Barbara Dunkelman x Reader

Depression Pt. 1

( potential trigger warnings: Self-harm and suicide attempts mentioned and attempted-

-Years ago, your pov-

Sitting at your house, you sit up in another cold sweat. Another nightmare about Margaret beating you senseless and burying you alive. This time, Barbara is out of town for a week at a convention, and you have no one to turn to for this. You had pleaded to come on the trip with them, but Burnie had decided you needed some days of rest, and time off. In the end, you had agreed, not wanting to be a burden to them, a burden like you always were. So, waking up from this nightmare, there was no one to hold onto you until you fell back asleep. 

Then again, what if you called Barbara, and she didn't come? What if she secretly hated you, and having to always come over for you? After all, she was one of the best people you knew, and you were just you. There had to be some resentment that someone like her had to keep helping someone like you. Making sure you were okay drained so much time from her, and you wondered how much happier she would be if you weren't around. She probably could have found someone if it weren't for you being such a drag on her life. 

And it wasn't just her you were a burden to. Everyone at Roosterteeth probably hated you. Hated how much you talked, how weird your interests were compared to theirs. How much you spent time with Barbara. And recently, they probably hated you more. Having to walk on eggshells around you, having to constantly ask if you were okay, and going out of their way to have to be nice to you. They hated how sensitive you were. How weak you were. None of them would ever be in an abusive relationship, because they were better than you. 

Maybe Margaret was right about everything, and so were your parents. You were a freak, an idiot. A mistake, and not in the sense your parents always told you you were, referring to you being an accidental pregnancy. No, you were a mistake in the purest sense of the word, something that shouldn't have existed. Something that didn't belong in the world with everything else. Maybe that was the reason your parents were always so hard on you. They were ashamed, and rightfully so that they had brought you into the world. All they had been doing was correct their mistake. And that's why Margaret was so quick to beat you. No, beat is the wrong word. She punished you for existing just like she should have. Because mistakes like you needed to be corrected. Margaret was right about everything she ever said about you. 

With that thought in mind, you go to the bathroom, and find your razor. Uncapping it, you look down at your wrists, and take a deep breath. Placing it down, you make one horizontal cut. Blood begins to drip freely from it, and stings in the open air. " Shit," you mumble, before the pain starts to feel good, in the worst possible way. Taking a few moments to adjust to the pain, you make another cut, and then another and another. Eventually, your arms have lost feeling, and you grow woozy from blood loss. However, you feel like you started the first part of atoning for being a mistake, and that thought makes you feel good. 

Over the next few days, you keep doing this. And not just on your arms. On your legs, chest and everywhere you can pretty much. You've also begun to starve yourself, and not leaving the house. The rest of the world shouldn't have had to deal with you ever again. However, one day you decided you were going to speed up the process of your atonement. You were going to kill yourself, and purge the world of someone like you. Not today, since you need to leave a note, and give away your things, as one final try at being something other than a failure. The following morning, you leave that note, and then send a text to the one person you thought you had loved, thought you had the right to love. A text to Barbara, reading simply, " Soon, I won't be a burden to you anymore. I'm so sorry for having wasted your time, but thank you for the good memories."

With everything taken care of, all you had to do was decide the way you were going to kill yourself. 

-Barbara Pov-

I sit at the panel, and try to control my breathing. Being here feels wrong. I shouldn't be here. I should be with (y/n), making sure he's okay. I keep freaking out, and imagining the worst possible scenario for what might be happening to him. Everyone keeps telling me nothing will happen, but I can't help but worry. When my phone rings, I take a brief glance at it, and then my eyes widen. I stand up abruptly, causing everyone to look at me. " Look, I'm sorry everyone, and thank you so much for having me. But, I gotta go."

As I start to race for my car, Arryn follows me. " Barbara, what the hell was that," she asks, and I frantically show her my phone. " Shit," she says, before getting into the car with me. I start the car, and then race for his apartment, praying to any god who will listen that I make it there on time. 

" Don't let me be too late," becomes my mantra, as I begin to hyperventilate. I have to make it there on time, I just have to. Once I make it close to his apartment, the cops stop me. Rolling my eyes, I start to curse frantically. I step out of the car, and he begins to lecture me on how many traffic laws I broke. " Yeah? Sue me," I tell him, as I start to bolt into the apartment. 

-Your Pov-

You smile sadly as you hold the bottle of pills in your hand. Eventually, this is how you decided you were going to end everything. The only regret you had about this was never having told Barbara how you felt. But, it didn't matter really. She never could have loved someone like you. " (y/n)," you hear a voice from the door. " It's me, Barbara. I got your text. Please let me in." You don't answer, not knowing what to do, and then she slams her fist on the door. " Let me in," she yells, fear and panic setting in.

" Alright, then, I'm coming in," she says forcefully, before kicking the door. She curses with pain, and then keeps kicking. You can't help but be touched at her persistence, however you know nothing will come of this, other than you having brought her more pain. As you think this however, the door flies off its hinges, and you see Barbara step into the room. She makes her way over to you, and smacks the bottle of pills out of your hands. 

You take a step back, suddenly worried she's going to hit you.However, she pulls you into a tight hug. " You were never a burden to me," she says, trying to keep her voice level. " I never wanted this. I left the convention right away, because I was worried sick." Somehow, her hug gets even tighter. 

Blood starts to drip from your cuts, and she steps back long enough to roll up your sleeves, and then let out a gasp. You consider telling her there's more, but then she pulls you into an even bigger hug than before. " Why? What if I had lost you huh? What if you had died? If I had been even a minute later? You can't do this to yourself, hell, you can't do this to me ever again. Promise me okay?"

You can't help but be touched by this, but you feel so bad for making the woman you loved cry. " Why are you doing all this for me," you mumble sheepishly. " I don't deserve all of this, any of this. I'm a burden."

"No, you aren't," she says, such conviction in her voice that you want to believe her, even though you know the truth of it. " Don't you ever say that about yourself again. You're my best friend, and I know if the roles were reversed, you would be doing all of this for me. So don't say you don't deserve this."

-Barbara Pov-

As I hold onto him, (y/n) passes out from blood loss. I begin to panic, and then call 911, and explain the situation to them. They dispatch an ambulance my way, and then I hold onto (y/n), and cradle him. " We're going to figure this out," I tell him, even though he can't hear me. " You and me, we're a team. And together, we're going to get through all of this. I'll do whatever it takes to help you." 

Eventually, I help him onto a stretcher, and then take him downstairs to the ambulance. The same cop from earlier tries to stop me from going into the back, and I just glare at him. " Eat me," I tell him, before slamming the back door of the ambulance in his face. 

Making my way over to (y/n), I see him slowly start to wake up, and he tries to apologize and begs me to leave him, so I don't have to suffer. I place a finger to his lips to shush him. " I'll follow you anywhere (y/n)," I tell him. " So please, don't go anywhere I can't follow."

( part 1 of 2. let me know what you thought. I don't have depression, so hopefully I was able to have a solid depiction of it. but this chapter more than most I'm worried about, so any feedback would be appreciated)