Johnny Depp [Character Imagine Stories]

𝔖𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯 𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔬𝔰𝔱 #1

•⚠️TRIGGER WARNING. SELF HARM. PLEASE LEAVE IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!!⚠️
•Self harm is detailed in this story. Please, read something else if that triggers you.

I stared at my wrist, healed from the previous scars I etched into it. It didn't feel right. I sat on the couch, whatever television show I had on playing in the background. I glanced at the clock

4:49PM

Spencer would be getting off work in 11 minutes. I got up, and sagged over to the kitchen. I quickly threw the drawer open and grabbed the sharpest knife I saw, and walked to the bathroom. I shut and locked the bathroom door behind me, and sagged down against the wall. The tornado of emotions and events I had felt lately had killed me, so much so I was convinced I couldn't feel anything worse anymore.

'Only one way to find out.' I thought as I held the knife to my wrist. I sighed deeply and leaned my head against the wall.

'Do I really... want to do this...?' I contemplated. Just then, I heard my charging phone ding in my bedroom. An excuse to get up. I unlocked the door and walked over to my phone. Α text from Spencer. Time was already 4:52PM.
"I'll be home soon, do you want any food?" It read. Normally I'd say yes, but my mind was in other places right now.

"No thank you." I replied, setting the phone face down on the nightstand. As I walked back towards the bathroom, I heard it ding again. I ignored and locked the door behind me. I sat on the toilet this time and glared down at my scarred wrist.

'You'll never find the time to do this if Spencer is home. Hurry up.' My conscious pushed me. I  stared between the knife and my wrist. I imagined the blood leaking from the cuts. No way in hell dis I want to clean that up again. I got up and leaned over the sink.

'He won't love you if you do it. Don't.' My own conscious was switching sides on me. I hit the counter with a balled up fist, the pain stinging through my palm. I glared at myself in the mirror, wondering why I did this to myself. Where I went wrong. My life was great. I had Spencer, good income, nice people around me... but I still wasn't happy.

'You ungrateful bitch.' I told my own mind. This only made me more ticked off. I held the knife to my wrist and pushed it to my skin, my fingertips turning write as I pushed.

"I'm home!" Spencer announced.

'Shit. Shit, shit, shit.' I thought as I ran to the bathroom door to double-check it was locked.

"Baby, where are you?" My husband's voice was α blur in the back of my head.
I ignored him. I tried to find it in me to just cut.

"y/n...?" His voice grew closer as he checked the house.

'Cut, you fucking idiot! Can't even do that right?!' My expression was blank. Why can't I do it?

"Honey? I got food anyways because I know you." Spencer lightly laughed at his comment right outside the door.
"Are you alright?" He asked, gently knocking on the door.

I drowned out his voice as I held the blade to my arm. My eyes switched between looking at my wrist and my sagged face in the mirror. I felt I was going to faint. I managed to get to the toilet, and sit there. I took the knife off my wrist and put it on the counter.

"y/n. I know you're in there. Please come out?" Spencer's knocks were α little less gentle.

"N-No." I subconsciously denied. I didn't even mean to say that. But I didn't want him coming in and seeing me with the knife, as he knows I've harmed myself before.

"Excuse me? Open the damn door." He cursed.

"Spencer, I said no." I said through gritted teeth.

"I'll break the fucking door down, baby..." He tried to sound calm but was clearly just as stressed as me.

"I'm going to the bathroom! Go away!" I lied.

"Really? Why's the silverware drawer open? You hate when I leave drawers open because you don't want to hit your hips on them. So why was it open?" Damn him for knowing me too well.

"I.. I forgot." I stuttered.

"You haven't forgotten for over 4 years, darling. Open. The fucking. Door." He demanded, kicking it.

"Back up! I'll open the damn door!" I wailed, standing up.
He was silent as I unlocked the door. I opened it and revealed Spencer, standing there in α black trench coat over a sky blue flannel. He had long black work pants on, and dress shoes. His eyes darted between the knife on the counter and my eyes.

"Show me." He ordered. I immediately knew what he was talking about and held out my wrist. He gently grabbed my hands and examined my arms.

"Fuck you." I mumbled. Did I mean that? No. But I was so confused, sad, and angry in the moment and he was right there for me to take my anger out on.

"For caring about you?" He questioned. Spencer was the only person who really understood me. His words impacted me in ways nobody else's did. That's one reason I loved him.
I stayed silent, not being able to counter his inquiry.

"Baby, please.." He begged, trailing off his words.

"What?" I gritted.

"Don't hurt yourself." He pulled me into α hug. My tense posture loosened and I held him back.

"I'm sorry, Spencer." I sniffled. Why did I do it? I tried to glanced back at the knife but Spencer's hand on the back of my head stopped me.

"Forget that. Focus on something else." He kissed my forehead, and picked me up bridal-style.

"Let's just talk. We can go out for dinner when we're done." He said, giving me no option to object.

"I-.. Okay." You agreed.

Words: 1034

This was pretty short, but I just really wanted to write α SH story. Thank you for reading.❤️