Red in my Ledger

Chapter Twenty-Three

TW: self-harm

I was done.
I didn't want this anymore.
I had barely made it out the room when the tears started falling down my face.
I got to the hallway and let myself cry.
I heard footsteps behind me, so I started running, worrying that it might be the woman that saw the tattoo.
I ran to the nearest bathroom and locked myself in.
I collapsed crying on the floor next to the shower.
Then I noticed something by the sink.
Without thinking, I stood and picked up the razor, and I took the blade out.
I didn't know what I was doing until I swiped across my wrist, creating a cut right across the tattoo.
It immediately started bleeding.
I did it again.
It didn't even hurt that much.
The black ink was slowly disappearing under the red splashes leaking from my skin
I pressed the blade right into the middle of the Red Room symbol.
I heard banging on the door, until it finally swung open.
I ignored it.
I was about to take the blade and cross through the words when someone launched themselves at me.
"No!" I screamed at them.
I didn't drop the blade. I grabbed it in my hand before I was pushed over. When I opened my fist, I saw it had cut into my palm.
I saw it was Sam in the room with me.
I kicked him off me and held the blade again.
He quickly got to his feet but didn't move, wary that I was still holding it in my hand.
"Y/n don't do it" he warned.
"I'm fucking done" I moaned, then tore through the skin on my wrist.
I bit down on my lip as I did.
"You're hurting yourself!" Sam cried.
I ignored him.
I was crying more now. So much my hands were shaking.
I could still see the tattoo. I hated it. I had to keep going.
I heard people running down the hallway.
I turned my back to the doorway and focused on what I was doing.
Within seconds, I felt someone's arms wrap around me and pick me up off the ground.
"Get off!" I screamed and struggled to get free. "No! It's not done! It's st- it's still there! No!"
My screams quickly turned into sobs.
I stopped struggling - I accepted the fact that I was weaker in this moment.
I opened my eyes and stared at the floor. I realised exactly what I had just done.
There were pools of my blood everywhere, smeared across the tiles.
I looked at my arm.
I couldn't see the tattoo anymore. I also couldn't see any clean or uncut skin.
The more I stared at it, the more it started to hurt.
—
Clint was looking around in the cupboards trying to find anything that could help clean you up.
Bucky put you down against the wall, and he sat on your left.
He put his arm around you so you could lean on him more comfortably while Clint started to deal with your wrist.
Your left hand was sitting in your lap, and your palm was still bleeding. Bucky picked it up in his metal hand and frowned at it.
It wasn't a huge cut, so he asked Sam to just pass him a plaster. He stuck it on for you, then held your hand properly.
Clint was slowly wrapping a bandage around your arm.
You watched him finish it off.
"There. All done" he smiled softly. He brushed away some of the hair that had stuck to your face, then stood up to talk to Sam. "I'm gonna go find Natasha."
He left you, Bucky and Sam alone in the bathroom.
Sam stood by the door, telling anyone that came towards him to find a different bathroom.
You pulled your sleeves down over the bandages then held your knees up to your chest.
Your head was still leaning on Bucky. You had stopped crying, but were still sniffing every now and then.
Natasha and Tony were going to be so mad, you thought.
You were staring blankly at the floor where one of the larger pools of blood was beginning to dry around the edges. You didn't say a word.
All of a sudden, everyone seemed to be at the door.
Clint had found them.
Tony was at the front of the group, and when he saw you, he instantly ran over to kneel in front of you.   
"Hey y/n what happened?" he asked.
Your gaze was fixed in the same place even though Tony was now sat in the way. You had completely zoned out.
—
I didn't cry like this. It was weak. I was weak.
I was avoiding eye contact.
I regretted what I did. Kind of.
But I didn't want to cry anymore.
—
"What happened?" Tony repeated, facing Bucky when you didn't answer.
"She was cutting her wrist" Bucky's voice broke with worry. "Because of the tattoo."
"Someone saw it" Steve mentioned.
Tony picked up your hand.
You finally looked up at him, but you didn't say anything. You were worried that if you opened your mouth, you would start sobbing again.
"I'm so sorry y/n" Tony apologised.
You didn't say anything.
Bucky still had his arm around you, and he pulled you closer.
"Do you want to go back your room?" he asked.
You nodded.
Tony stood, and he helped you up. He gave you a hug as Bucky stood up next to you.
"Do you need anything?" Tony asked. "Do you want me to come with you? I could get you some water or-"
"No" you mumbled.
You stepped back from Tony, and hugged Bucky instead.
He didn't hesitate to pick you up.
You rested your head on his shoulder as he carried you out the bathroom.
There was a small crowd in the hallway.
You saw some people you recognised, but a lot of people you didn't.
You shamefully hid your face in Bucky's chest until you were in the elevator.
"You can, um, you can put me down now" you muttered.
Bucky did as requested, then picked up your hand.
He squeezed it tightly.
You squeezed his back.
"Please don't hurt yourself y/n" Bucky whispered.
"I'm sorry... it's just not fair."
"I know."
Bucky was probably the only person that understood. Maybe Natasha and Yelena. No one else.
You got back to your room, and Bucky followed you in.
You sat on your bed and Bucky sat next to you.
You took out your earrings as Bucky took off your shoes for you.
You couldn't be bothered to get changed anymore so you decided just to sleep in the dress.
You crawled under the sheets and pulled them up to your chin.
Then you lay with your eyes open, staring at the wall.
Bucky comfortingly put his hand on your shoulder and ran his fingers up and down your arm.
"You can go" you mumbled quietly. You didn't really want him to go.
"I'm not leaving" he sighed.
You shuffled over in bed as an indication that you wanted him to get in with you.
You became hopeful when he kicked off his shoes.
But he ended up just sitting against the headboard with his legs straightened out across the mattress.
At least you were still able to lean on him.
You rested your head on his side and eventually, you slowly drifted off to sleep.