tequila ; s. paulson one - shots

relapse (w. venable)

tw : self harm

Scratching your arms and thighs fiercely, the red marks were getting more and more prominent as you tried to resist the temptation to cut yourself. It had been months since your moods got this bad.

You were well aware that the blade was in the stationery drawer, but you were also aware of your girlfriend's hatred of the act. Wilhemina had made you swear up and down never to harm yourself after she discovered your past with it, and so far, you had done a pretty good job keeping that promise.

The urge to draw blood was getting stronger, and she wasn't due to be home for a while. As much as you hated to do it, you got up and took the silver blade from the drawer and entered the bathroom, stripping off your shirt and hoodie. 

As you traced your fingers over the scars on your shoulders, you dragged the blade across your skin, allowing the blood to stream down your body. Normally, you'd contain the damage to an easily concealed area, but the blood you were drawing wasn't enough.

"Y/N? Where are you?" Mina called, apparently home from work early, "Are you hungry?"

Slashing roughly on your forearms, you realized the extent of everything you had been doing, "Shit."

"I'm in the bathroom, I'll be there in a sec," you called, voice miraculously steady. With your quick decision making and instincts, you managed to wrap toilet paper around all the wounds, flush the toilet, and wash your hands in record time.

You threw on your shirt and hoodie, careful not to mess up the tissues, and ran to meet the redhead, who was sitting in the living room.

"Sorry I took so long, Mina," with your head hung, you sat next to your girlfriend, who wrapped her arm around you, which hurt, but you weren't going to show it, "Why didn't you tell me you were coming home early?"

"It was obviously meant to be a surprise," she raised an eyebrow at you, taking your hand in hers, "And I brought you some ramen for dinner."

"Really?" you asked excitedly, "You should have started with that, now that you mention food, I'm starving."

The older woman rolled her eyes at your constant hunger, "Well, aren't you always."

"I am, but can we please eat anyway?"

"Only because you asked nicely," she replied, using her cane to get up from the couch and offering you her hand.

The two of you went to the kitchen and sat down to eat. Despite your hair being tied back, the steam from the hot soup and the heat of your hoodie made you start to sweat, which of course, didn't go unnoticed.

"Take off your hoodie, Y/N," Mina said, "It's hot. And you're eating soup."

You shook your head, wiping a drop of sweat tracing down your cheek, "I'm fine."

"Just take it off already."

Very very reluctantly, you stripped off your protective armor, exposing the blood-stained tissues on your forearms. You hung your head shamefully, not wanting to face the fury of your girlfriend.

"What the fuck, Y/N? I thought you promised never to do this again! Are you really incapable of keeping a single promise?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes and trickling down your face, "I'm really sorry."

With a sigh, Wilhemina stood up, taking your hand in hers. She led you to your bedroom, "Sit on the bed."

Wiping away your tears, you nodded, not daring to say a word. The older woman took the medical kit from the bathroom and upon coming back, the sight of you broke her heart. She absolutely hated seeing you vulnerable and anything other than happy.

She sat down next to you, taking your left forearm in her hands and wiping it gently with a damp washcloth, "It's going to hurt a little, okay?"

Pouring hydrogen peroxide over your cuts, you bit your lip, resisting the urge to make a sound. She took your right arm and after cleaning it poured the liquid over it as well, only looking up at you when you hissed, the tears streaming down your face.

She dabbed some antiseptic on the wounds and wrapped bandages around your arm securely, "Are those the only ones, or are there some more?"

"There...are some...on my shoulders," you stuttered through your quiet sobs, "I'm really sorry, Mina."

"Lie down, sweet girl," she replied, pulling your blood-stained white shirt off you.

You couldn't stop crying as you felt the gentle movements of the washcloth, then the acid-like burn of the cleaning, then the oh-so delicate but firm way she wrapped the bandages around your shoulders.

"Y/N, love, can you look at me?" Mina asked kindly as she put a clean shirt on you, "Please?"

Lifting your gaze to meet the warm brown eyes you loved so much, you tried to wipe away the hot tears still running down your face, "I'm really really sorry about this, Mina. I-I felt so angry, I just couldn't stop."

"It's okay, love," she soothed, caressing your cheek and brushing your hair away from your face, "I'm sorry I got so mad, I just worry about you. A lot."

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise," you sobbed.

"Promises were made to be broken, but you just have to try harder, okay?" wrapping you in a hug, the older woman stroked your back, "I believe in you, sweet girl, and I love you so much. Please don't forget that."

"I'm sorry I ruined dinner," you sniffed, "The soup's probably cold now."

"I could honestly care less. I just need to know you're okay."

"Thank you. For everything. I love you," you said, tears finally stopping.

Placing a tender kiss on your forehead, Mina took your hand in hers and traced her finger over your knuckles, "I love you so much, my sweet girl. I don't say it often enough, but I do. Don't forget it."

"I won't."

wc : 1009