My Digital Escape Preferences/ Imagines

Requested: How Much Damage It Can Do

Another request for the awesome izcrazy64

I just got home from the best friend's house, and I felt the need to lie down on my bed and just relax. On top of exhausting my somewhat social life, work has been driving me insane with all the deadlines and assignments that keep on stacking up; one on top of another. It made me feel like it was all my fault, because I never give myself the chance to do the work and I refuse to do it. Sometimes I try to preoccupy my mind to shake the stress and procrastination, but then it just keeps me from doing anything. Out of instinct, I walked to the restroom and pulled out the razor from the right side of the sink. Alright, before anyone tries to tell me what I'm doing is wrong - I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't do such a thing to myself, but the sickly thing about self-harm is that we feel the need to correct ourselves for our faults. I'm a procrastinator, and I hate my job; two things to correct myself on. I have to make myself love my job, and I have to stop procrastinating so much. If I did this, it'll make me realize that I'm the problem and this could change. I walk to the bathtub and put the metal of the razor against my forearm and I let it leave scars on my skin. I planned to just cut twice, but it became five quickly, and it was hard to stop. Self-harm is just like a drug: Once you get it into your system, you begin to ache for more. I couldn't stop, and I knew if I continued to do this, Kyle would get after me. I heard footsteps echo from downstairs in the foyer, and I threw the razor into the bathtub, and I quickly changed into an over-sized sweater to cover the scars. 

I ran downstairs to greet Kyle, and he pulled me against him by having his hands around my waist and pulled me into a tight hug and a sweet kiss. It made me feel bad that I've been lying to him about my self-harm, but sometimes things are better left unsaid. 

"Sorry I've been gone so long, Izzy. I meant to be back thirty minutes ago," Kyle excused himself for his overdue absence.

"Well at least you're home now," I said through a wide smile. We shared another kiss. Kyle and I walked into the kitchen to prepare for dinner, and we decided on tortellini with garlic bread. We planned to go to the store together, but I last minute decided to stay behind and clean up around the house. I managed to get the cleaning supplies from the top of the pantry, and I started to wipe up the tables, but I didn't notice that my sleeve was pulled up until Kyle made mention of it.

"Izzy, what is that?" Kyle asked and pointed at the fresh cuts around my wrist and exposed forearm. 

"Nothing." I shrugged off his question and continued cleaning, but Kyle kept forcing his question on me. 

"Izzy, I'm not stopping until you tell me," Kyle persisted. I mentally sighed to myself, knowing that I'm going to have to tell him.

"I think you know what they are," I mumbled quietly. 

"Huh?" 

"I think you know what they are," I mumbled at a reasonable tone; afraid to look into his eyes. I glanced up at him for a brief second, and it looked like anger was taking over his facial expression. Kyle punched the kitchen counter in front of him, and brought his hand back up to look at the red marks on his hand. 

"I thought you were sober," Kyle gritted through his teeth, "I thought you were sober!" At this point, his voice reached his maximum that it roared in my ears. 

"I am! Well, at least, I was! Why does this make you mad?" Now my voice reached its maximum, and I was pissed off at Kyle. First, you question if I'm sober, and second, you question my actions. 

"Because I know you're stronger than this! This isn't the girl I knew when we met. You used to be so carefree, happy, and sober. I'd like that girl back!" Kyle yelled. Now it was my chance to realize what he just said to me. Am I really that different? But at the same time, he just likes to think he knows my past when he doesn't. 

"And how do you know that? You don't know anything about my life beforehand!" 

Now it was Kyle's turn to go silent. You could the tension with a knife. 

"Izzy, I'm sor -," I didn't let Kyle finish his apology. I walked upstairs and locked myself in our shared bedroom. I could hear Kyle on the other side pleading for me to come out. 

~ Two Hours Later ~

I opened the door to notice Kyle asleep across from the door. Something told me to wake him up, so I woke him up with a gentle push on his shoulder. He woke up instantly. 

"Izzy, I'm sorry for what I said. I was trying to get you to realize how strong you are. I just care about you a lot, and I know that you can get through anything. I'm sorry for my bad phrasing," Kyle apologized, while he held my hand to my chin to get him to look at him. 

"You're forgiven."