Sanmos angst/whump collection

Hidden scars

Author's Note:unrelated but I was listening to Two Trucks while writing this

Deimos buried his head in his pillow. He had been trying to sleep, but every time he tried, he'd be awoken by horrible nightmares. Horrible nightmares of the agency, of all the horrible shit they did to him. The psychical and emotional abuse they put him through. With the help of Doc, Deimos had recovered from the psychical scars, but the emotional scars still lingered, tormenting him at every given opportunity. Deimos screamed into his pillow. He wanted to rip apart every single fucking agent in that damn place, for either supporting the agency's harsh treatment or standing by and doing nothing as he was brutally tortured for a minor mistake.

Deimos heard the door creak open. He shot up to see Sanford standing there, looking concerned. "Deimos? Babe? Are you okay?" Sanford said. Deimos was immediately put on defensive, he didn't want Sanford to think he was weak. "It's nothing San, go back to sleep" he said. "Deimos, have you been crying?" Sanford said. Deimos tensed "get out Sanford, I don't wanna talk to you right now, I want to sleep" Sanford opened his mouth to speak again but Deimos butted in before he could say anything. "I said get out Sanford! Is that hard to understand?!" He yelled. Sanford was taken aback by this outburst, but decided he'll deal with it in the morning. Sanford turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Deimos planted his face into his pillow again and sobbed again. Fuck the agency, fuck Sanford, fuck everything.

Some wounds leave scars, some scars are psychical, some are emotional.