❪ 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ❫
THESE ONESHOTS ARE BAD !
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
just really bad oneshots
written by a mentally ill ,
possessive teenager .
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
when tmnt becomes my special
interest again, i'll come back to
...
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━━ UNDER DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES mikey x fem! reader ☆
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀
Choked sobs ripped their way through your throat and into the palm of your hand as you tried your best to quiet them. The loud and repeated yells of your mother rang endlessly in your head as she continued to harshly bang her fist against the locked door, despite your refusal to answer. Harsh words roared from her mouth and all you could do was listen and take in the vile comments. Fingernails bit into the palm of your skin, hard enough to harm yourself as the pressure from it began to draw blood.
The older woman berating you, left while muttering incoherent words under her breath. Though, you hadn't noticed. Her words continued to swirl around your head, battering down the little self-confidence you had left into a pile of mush. Every reason for still being here, for still hanging onto this world that treated you like shit, had dissipated in a matter of seconds.
Burying your head in your knees, your sobs only became louder as you tried to pull yourself out of this state. Focusing on anything else but the recurring words in your head. A raging scarlet coloured liquid ran down your palm from the wound you had caused yourself, and you tried to focus on that. Clenching and unclenching your fist, the blood coated more of your hand, but it was bringing you more awareness of your surroundings, and eventually, it pulled you through the small panic attack.
Pulling your head away from your knees, your vision was expectedly blurry. Your head pounded and the lights from the bathroom only seemed to make it worse. Time to head to the bedroom after being trapped in there for at least an hour.
You shakily pushed yourself off of the floor, careful as your knees almost buckled beneath your weight of sitting for so long. "Jeez," you whispered, gently pushing open the bathroom door and stumbling into the hallway. Everything was quiet aside from the faint murmurs from the television in the other room. Hopefully, your father had fallen asleep on the couch and your mother was headed to bed if so you could finally get some rest.
Entering your room, you closed the door behind you as quietly as possible, disrupting the little peace you had was an awful idea, especially during the night.
Before giving in to the sweet relief of sleep, you quickly cleaned up the now-dried blood that coated your hand. You were too lazy to bandage up the small wound so you just left it as is, sure it would heal overnight.
You crawled onto your bed, and feeling the soft sheets below your aching limbs made a smile tug at your lips. Sleep was calling your name, and you were ready to give in to its sweet whispers. But unfortunately, a yell from your mother followed by a loud bang, indicated you were not getting any sleep for the next couple of hours. Great.
