Jack Barakat Imagines

Not Again

Can you do an imagine where y/n used to self harm, like pinch her arms and cut her thighs , one day she is feeling like it again she doesn't know jack would surprise her and be back home, so when they have sex the cuts on her thighs open up and jack notice them and you continue what happens thank you so much

AN If you are at all triggered/ uncomfortable with the situation in this story, by no means are you obligated to read it. Thank you guys so much for all your kind support. You're so patient with me and you're so kind and I just love you guys so much. Thank you so much for everything. Enjoy the imagine lovelies xx

Warning: self harm

Your POV

With Jack being gone there was absolutely nothing stopping me from reverting to my old ways again. I always thought about it. Even if I was happy. It'd be thoughts like I'm glad I don't have that feeling anymore or thank god that's over. But once my happiness flushes away, my thoughts become things like just one I promise or you do deserve it you know. The thoughts never stop. Even when you've believed you were over it.

That's what's so addicting about self harm. The pain. The pain can take you away just as fast as reality can snap you back. It's like a high, and once your high isn't enough, you crave more. And just like a lifelong addiction, you never stop wanting it.

It's not as if I liked being like this, it was just how it was with dealing with it. My skin looked so vulnerable without an accurate representation of what was going on inside. It was like as if it were a part of me I couldn't shake. I admit that with Jack being around that those times weren't frequent and rarely had I been relapsing, but with him so far away and asleep, not being able to answer my calls, I was weak. I was vulnerable. And so looked my skin.

Jack's face was etched in my memory, and even though I saw it whenever I closed my eyes, if I was going to do this, I had to block his memory out. The sensation on my skin to beg me to hurt myself was stronger than it had been in a while. Jack's been gone for so long. By the time he gets back, it'll have already healed. Just like my other scars that he hasn't seen.

I was on the floor of my room, my things sprawled out around me like I was facing a jury of blades. They stared back judging me, telling me I'm alone, that Jack's never coming back. The reason why he hasn't called or texted was because he was with someone else. Someone taller, someone skinnier, someone better. You're not good enough.

To make the pain stop, I distracted myself with outside pain, and relief washed over me as the blood flowed down my leg. This feeling is a terrible one after it's all finished, but it feels refreshing in the moment. The mental weight it holds on you is enough to break a grown man, so why girls that were between the ages of 12 and 25 were struggling with it, I didn't know.

It's not just girls either. It's boys, it's men, it's women, it's everyone. Everyone is a victim of some kind of unhealthy addiction. With my best friend, it's gummy bears. With me, it's pain. It's the blood. It's the sensation you feel when you're distracted. It's the lifting feeling off your chest that everything is fine now. And then the burning happens, and that's the part that everyone hates the most.

With slashes in my thighs and tears down my cheeks, I wondered what Jack even saw in me. It couldn't be my award winning personality, even though god knows that's half the reason why I chose Jack, if not the full reason. His ability to make me smile was an abyss. He was so good at it that his talent was endless. But when I needed him the most, where was he? Where did he go when I was crying on the floor, begging for him to return home.

It was times like these that I couldn't handle being myself anymore, but like all dry spells in nature, I got through it. And with a little help from a shiney metal friend, I was able to overcome that dry spell with a shower of relief.