⚠️Content Warning: Self-harm ⚠
Leaning against the bathroom door, you slowly slide down. Taking the blade in your dominant hand, you drug it across the weaker arm. You took it at a leasurly pace, wanting to see the cut being made, wanting to watch the blood as it came out after ever millimeter you drug it. After that one, you made more, but more shallow; with more quickness and speed.
The stinging made you grit your teeth. The one weird thing about this stuff is that it does hurt - but it's a good kind. Your twisted tranquility interupted by a sudden knock.
"Hey, baby girl, you almost ready?"
Shit! He's early today!
"Uh, yea, just give me like five minutes. Okay, Two?"
"Alright."
Your thoughts raced as you tried to find some way to cover them so he wouldn't see. You quickly washed the blood from your arms and settled on a plain black long sleeve shirt. Then you took to cleaning up the sink and part of the floor - bloods a messy thing.
Maybe he won't notice.
When you stepped from the bathroom, he chuckled. "Okay, baby, I give. Why the shirt? It's ninety-eight degrees out, you'll die of heat stroke before you even hit the first step. Go on and change."
Dammit.
Two-bit's sweet, but he's persistent in what he wants. You squirmed and tried to wait him out, trying to convince him you'd be fine.
He took it on himself to raid your closet to find you a shirt, "I'll be fine," he mockingly repeated what you said. "That's a load of bull if I've ever heard. I know you. Put this on," he tossed a dark blue tank top over your way. Your mind was racing, in a war over what you should do; whether or not to show him.
You may as well he's gonna find out one way or another. Better this way then by someone else later.
Yeah, but what will he say?
Show him and find out. We all know it'd be better, you could get better.
You exhaled a large sigh, feeling defeated, you head back to the bathroom to put the shirt on anyway. Scared, you stepped back out, only keeping your eyes on the ground.
Two's eyes grew big when they landed on your arms.
"What are those?"
You looked at him, trying to be quick, "I told you, that damn cat of mine don't like me," you giggled.
For once, you could tell, that he was serious. The somber look never changed, he came closer, but he was timid. Almost like he thought he would break you if he moved too fast, but he got there and took your hands.
"This ain't a joke. I know I ain't the smartest man around but I sure ain't dumb neither. I know what those are. Why."
Your voice felt lost, it almost seemed to burn, you tried and tried but nothing would come out. All you could do was pull your hands away, wrapping them around you tightly as you tried to find your voice, any voice really, and when you did you didn't mean to get snippy, it just came out.
"Why do you drink? Huh? Why? To get rid of whatever's on your mind. To numb the pain for a little while. To escape. What this is," you hold out your arms to show him, "and your drinking ain't much different. They're both destructive as hell."
Two-Bit ran a hand through his hair, then looked back at you, his face more sad than before.
"I didn't realize my drinking bothered you that much."
You didn't answer, you only tried wrapping yourself tighter.
"Listen, doll," he began, "you get help for that, and I'll get help for my drinking, deal?"
You looked up at him with a sad smile, "Promise?"
"On my life," he smiled.
YOU ARE READING
The Outsiders Imagines
Fanfiction"They grew up on the outside of society. They weren't looking for a fight. They were looking to belong."
