Breathing | Prinxiety

4

4

Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and self-harm, its kind of graphic idk

Edit: ok I put a tw here and I don't think I put any others further on but I've had a few people now say that they've been struggling to read it plus that was a pretty measly trigger warning. I just want to make it clear right now as when I put that warning I wasn't 100% sure how the rest of the story or even this chapter would pan out, but if self harm, suicidal thoughts, blood, panic attacks or suicide attempts even have the risk of affecting you if you read about them, DONT KEEP READING THIS BOOK! I don't want to cause anyone any negative reactions due to something I did and this book is pretty detailed on some really sensitive shit, so please proceed with caution and take care of yourself ❤️❤️❤️

That was way longer than I meant it to be oOPS LETS GET ON WITH THE STORY

It most definitely was not worth it.

Anxiety sat on his bed, cradling his injured arm. There was a first aid kit in the living area but he definitely didn't want to risk being caught right now. So he sat, shoulders shaking with sobs, staring down at the mess he'd created.

Five slashes were marked down his wrist, perfectly parallel to each other. He shook as the full extent of what he'd done hit him. The last of the five cuts had managed to catch the vain on his wrist, and a significant amount of blood was streaming out of it.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself, wrapping the bottom of his top around it and trying to apply pressure as an attempt to halt the bleeding. He began to contemplate whether or not he should go get the first aid kit to prevent himself from bleeding out.

No. He would wait this out. He wouldn't make someone else deal with his shit. Not again. But what if this was it? What if this killed him?

His mind ran a mile a minute, before he came to the conclusion that maybe it would be for the best. Maybe Roman was right. Maybe he only thought he was helping, but in actual fact he was just bringing everyone else down with him.

With that in mind, he came to a conclusion, and gently peeled the blood-soaked shirt away from the injury, and lay back on his bed. If this would kill him, then let it.