Dean Winchester Imagines

Help Me

WARNING: Self-harm, Depression, Eating Disorder, Suicide

Mini- Authors Note:
Before I get started I just want to say that all of the things talked about in this chapter are very serious and are nothing to joke about. An old friend of mine had someone who was every close to killing themselves. A good friend of mine tried to kill themselves. These topics are no joking matter. I never thought that something like that would happen but they affect all of us. Eating disorders are serious. People die whether it be eating too much to cope with something or eating too little. Cutting is a very popular choice today. People go through so much because we are so cruel to each other. All of these things are serious and if you go through things like this, those poisonous thoughts talk to someone. That friend I said tried to kill themselves, they are now opening up to more people and getting all of her troubles off her chest. As Jensen and Misha said, YOU ARE NOT ALONE!

Dean x Daughter Reader
Requested by glitterhoee

I am the laughing stalk of the school. People are so cruel to me. They call me a fat cow, they say that I can't even fit in the doorway. My dad, Dean Winchester, and my uncle, Sam, tell me that they are just jealous of me but it doesn't help. Every day for the past 5 years. I don't understand why they do it. Do they get off on causing me to hate myself and hate looking in a mirror? Do they like when I lock myself in the school bathroom and skip class just to get away from them? Do they like it when the only way I see out of this is death? WHY do they do it?

The pain kept building and building. I couldn't take it anymore. I finally snapped. I was sitting in my bedroom, a few rooms down from my dad's. I was on my computer scrolling through Tumblr because I had nothing better to do. A message popped up on the side of my computer. It was a message from my friend Y/f/n. He was like my best friend, well more like my only friend. I open the message to see what she said. What I find makes my stomach clench and turn.

Y/f/n: What the hell are you still doing alive? You tried to get my boyfriend to break up with me? How dare you! GO KILL YOURSELF YOU WHORE!

I died. Right there. Frozen with death. As if I could feel my heart split in two. Tears started slipping down my cheeks. Why? I always tried my hardest to stay away from him when he was with his boyfriend. I didn't like the way he acted around him. It made me realize that I would never have what he has. No one falls in love with a broken person.

I ran into my bathroom thinking that my dad or uncle was going to pass my room and hear me crying. I close and lock the door. I sink to the floor and just cry. Sobbing not able to think of anything else. People hate me. I am worthless in this world. No one is going to miss me if I died right now. I am always that person that was invisible. My own family barely noticed me. I had locked myself in the garage accidentally to get something out of the Impala and I was in there for 2 hours slamming my fist against the door before they came to get me. I'm invisible.

In the drawer on the bottom, there were things. Things that no one knew about. Things that I couldn't stop using. Things that left red marks. Things that helped take the pain away even when it was only for a few hours. Things that had scared me physically. Things I couldn't get away from. Thin, metallic, small things. I always think that these things will help me. But deep inside, I know that the only thing that those things do is sweep everything under the carpet. Things that push those thoughts away. Things that block everything out.

I crawl over to the bottom drawer and get those things out. My mind was yelling at me. Telling me to stop. But I was too desperate. This was the only way. I couldn't let these things tear me apart. I couldn't. I just couldn't. I turned the thing over in my hand. There was a small red-orange line that only went up about one-fourth the way up. I pull up the sleeve on my sweatshirt. I see thin red lines from the last time I used the things. I don't go over the red lines. I go between them. I never liked overlapping.