(ON HOLD) Worth-full? (Sans X Depressed!Self-harming!Reader)

Chapter 6: In Your Arms

(Edit: Cover added 01/24/18)

A/N: Here's another chapter! Honestly I almost died writing this because of the angst and feels oh my goodness. This chapter contains a majority on the topic of self-harm, also panic attacks. I would suggest being wary. Anyway on to the chapter!

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~1 month later~

A month has passed since my suicide attempt. Me and Sans have talked about the incident and I confessed to him about my depression. I don't know why but I trust him and I've never trusted anyone before. To my surprise Sans told me about his depression. At least I found someone who understands.

Throughout the month I've developed a few friendships, something I've never had before. Even if I did they never lasted long before my "friends" back stabbed me. Me and the child, Frisk, have grown to be good friends. As for Papyrus.... I still flinch and feel uncomfortable with his loud voice. I haven't told Sans this because I didn't want him telling Papyrus this. Having people change for me isn't what I want.

My nightmares have downed down a bit, I'd still see one occasionally but Sans would always come comfort me after one. Everyday my thoughts still continue to devour on my soul, my hope growing weaker slowly.

I can't let anyone see my soul, especially Sans. He's gotten himself concerned over me already and I don't want to bring any more stress to him because of me. I let out a sad sigh and stand out of bed. Sans let me take over his room, I feel bad taking his bed but he reassures me that he barely sleeps on it anyway.

Whenever I would wake up in the middle of the night I'd sometimes go downstairs and notice Sans sleeping on the couch. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep. His cute snores would fill the living room and I'd cover him with a blanket. I've always had the thought of kissing his forehead but never done that. He's become the light to my dark soul.

My thoughts haunt me, reminding me of my past, as I stand in front of the bathroom mirror. The shower faucet runs in the background but I ignore it, inspecting my body. Like always scars and cuts litter around, my arms and thighs especially. The bruises from my parents are long gone. I can still easily recall their abuse toward me. The countless times throughout my life when I was hated upon and cursed at.

I always brought misfortune and nuisance. At least that's what I've always been told.

Ever since the suicide attempted it seemed as though my tears dried out. I would feel the strong urge to cry but nothing came. Only the deep burning pain in my throat would come.

Sighing I jump into the hot shower. The water stings my fresh cuts from earlier. Like always I don't care. Nothing matters. To Sans and the others it looks like I'm getting better but in reality nothing much changed. I always fake it and like always no one notices.

I sit on the floor of the tub and bring my knees to my face. A wave of anxiety washes inside me. My heart rate increased slightly and my breathing turns shallow and ragged. I feel the senses my from fingers vanish as I'm greeted to the light headed sensation I've grown to hate.

My fingers dig into my palms trying to regain their feel. This is the third panic attack this week. I take deep breaths just like Sans taught me. He's been very helpful and understanding toward my panic attacks recently and he's taught me various breathing exercises to help.

I don't know how long I've been breathing. The water burns my body when I hear a knock on the door.

"Y/N are you ok in there?" Sans. My breath catches in my throat unable to speak. I want to call him out. I can't do this alone. I'm unable to breath properly.