Ponder// Miniminter x reader

Part 5 (Trigger Warning)

Later 1:06pm

You stare down at your feet. The tile slowing becoming warmer as the hit water streamed down your naked back. The first time you could have a real shower in weeks, other than a bath with Freya or Sarah helping you. Your stitches were due to be refreshed in a few hours, and you had to clean yourself.

You pick up the orange scented shampoo, putting some in your hand and lathering it in. Quenching your eyes shut to keep out the soap, you felt some suds run down the back of your neck softly. Washing out the rest of it, you add a similar scented conditioner, lathering that in and ,eating it sit for a few moments.

While it sat, you scratched at the skin around the stitches. It was staring to become a nervous habit.

You had the same dream again. Same as the one before. Simon made you go back to bed, but he joined you so you wouldn't be lonely. You fell asleep in his arms, but you had the same dream.

Simon being home with you before it all happened.

But that time when you woke up, he wasn't there. You sat straight up like before, looking around for him, to notice that he had ditched you.

On top of that, the others have been a bit worried lately. Saying your not yourself, and look around at things that aren't there. But when you "told" Simon about it, he just shrugged saying they were just worried.

You went back under the spicket a and rinsed out the conditioner. You reached for the body wash, putting it onto a loofah and rubbing it around your bare body. Careful to avoid the stitches when washing your chest.

When you finished you rinsed and turned off the tap, reaching onto the counter outside the shower to get a towel. You pull it back into the shower drying yourself and covering your body as you step out. You out the towel to your hair as well to dry it out before putting on underwear and clothing. A red sweater and jeans. The sweater was turtleneck and went up high enough to cover the stitches. You brush your hair out, blow drying it, and styling it nicely.

You turn the light off walking out of the bathroom, taking your damp towel and old clothes with you. You drape the towel over your bed and put the clothes in the hamper. You go to your drawer for some thicker socks since your feet felt cold.

As you opened the drawer, you reach in and grab a sock, but quickly notice it's twin is missing. You throw the available sock onto the bed and search your drawer for the other. You finally spot it near the back and reach in to get it, pulling it out. Losing the drawer with your hip, you go to sit on the bed to put them on, but notice the new found sock felt heavy.

———————————————-🚫

You reach into it, pulling out a packet of a razor head. It went to the one you used to shave your legs...how it ended up in your underwear drawer..

You peer at it as it rested in the confined case, never opened of course. The silver blades, although slightly dulled by its packaging, still gleamed whenever the lights hit it right. It reminded you of that night...

A man in dark clothing and pale hands stands behind you, holding  knife.  Before you can scream, he raises his knife, cutting it across you line of vision.  Your eyes wide as blood spills out onto your shirt and hands onto the floor.  You drop to your knees then the floor, as you lay on your back, blood seeping out of you as the invader runs.  You lay there.  Staring up at the ceiling, waiting for your life to fade away.

You gasp dropping the packet before picking it back up again.

You barely remembered that night. You barely remember the pain that came after your neck was cut open. You didn't feel anything matter of fact, just the fact that you felt so so tired.

You gave up that night. You'd admit that. You were very accepting of death.

But now,

Your eyes glass over with tears as you sit in the bed, your mind derailed from its mellow task to this.

Maybe?

'No. It never leads to anything good'

You sigh. But go against it. You open the packet letting it fall onto the floor again accidentally. You pick it up carefully. Examining and entranced by the shine of the silver blades.

You roll up the sleeve of your red sweater and stare at your clean arm, do I?

You press the silver to your skin, feeling numdpb at first. But in one quick movement, you striked it like a match along your forearm. Fire erupted from your arm as fine paper thin razor cuts oozed blood. You stared at the crimson liquid as it dully and colourlessly seeped from beneath your skin.

You watch mesmerised as it dropped onto the carpet.

Drip ....drop ...drop...

'Again,'

You repeat the process again, cutting along the inside of your elbow, fire seethed again as more oozed. It circled around your elbow and arm as it reaches your thumb and knuckles before dripping down. You raise the blade to repeat the action a third time but...

———————————————🚫 over now

"Stop!" Someone shouts. You jump looking up in surprise. Simon grabs your arm and bringing the blood to his lips. You watch in horror as he licks the stream of blood from your arm.

You batch you arm away in disgust, rubbing away his spit.

"Gross innit ?" He remakes wiping the blood from lips. You say nothing.

'How'd he get in here, the door was locked?'

'Was it?'

"Don't ever do it again," he says. You just nod your head, holding your arm. You ignore your thoughts as he drags you into the bathroom and makes you sit on the toilet while he grabs bandages. Your mind in a thick haze while he does so. You felt sleepy, but just decided to blame it on blood loss.

"I can't go through almost loosing you again, y/n" he says quietly as he wraps your arm up. You just stare at him as he does so. He's really the only one other than Vik that showed an amaculate amount of concern. The others just say you talk to yourself and see shit...

Simon finished and looks at you. You stare into his eyes as he does the same and you just don't wanna look away. He cares so much for you it's unreal. He makes the effort, he understands you, he doesn't need to to speak, you could it in silence and he'd understand every thought and word running through your head.

Sometimes your quiet just violence.

It's miscalculations and mistakes. Insecurities and harsh phrases dashing through your head. They play on an endless loop and you can't escape them by talking with others to distract yourself. You breaking slowly.

Bit by bit.

Piece by piece.

Of all the things he understands and interperets, and talks to you about..

He didn't know it was this deep...

"Sometimes, quiet is violent,"