Jasper x Fem! Reader (NOT FINISHED, may continue at a later date)

Chapter 37: An Upward Turn

Update (01/02/21): Grammatical errors were fixed.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This chapter contains triggering themes.

You hummed softly as you tapped your bare feet against the sheets of your bed. You were hanging upside down over the mattress, becoming slightly lightheaded from the blood rushing to your head. You giggled, the feeling of being dizzy making you giddy. "(Y/n)?" You glanced over at the door after hearing a quiet knock. "Sweetheart, come and eat something for me", your mom's lilted voice spoke from the hallway. You flipped off of the mattress, sitting on the floor with your legs crossed. You hadn't eaten much since you had gotten to your mom's house almost two weeks ago. You no longer had much of an appetite and you were losing a considerable amount of weight because of it. You frowned, gripping the end of the yellow sweater you were wearing.
"I'm not hungry", you mumbled, fiddling with the fabric. You heard your mom sigh, the sound of a plate clinking following it. Every day your mom would make something for you and ask you to come out and eat, but you'd always refuse. She would then leave the plate outside the door until she made your next meal a few hours later and ask you again. You wanted to eat, but you weren't sure you'd be able to hold the food down. You bit your bottom lip, listening to the sound of your mom shuffling away from the door. You felt bad for not interacting with her as much since the day you barged into her home and you knew your state of mind wasn't only having an effect on you but her as well. "I want to be better...", you said softly to yourself, picking at the scabs that were forming along your thighs. "...but I don't know how." You sniffed, feeling your eyes begin to water at the thought of what you were doing to your mother. "I'm so useless. I'm worthless. Helpless. Nothing is going to get better, only worse. There isn't anything I can do about what's happening to me." Your hands began to shake as you began crying. You knew that doing so would dehydrate you even more, but your physical health wasn't anything important to you anymore. Sliding your hand under your bed your fingers touched the cold metal of the object you were looking for. You grabbed hold of it, the sharp blade biting into your hand. Warm blood spilled over onto the small knife you had taken from the kitchen a week ago, covering the already dried up crust that was on it. You pressed the weapon to your neck, only to drop it in your lap a second later. You spread your hands out in front of you, your palms facing upward. You watched your blood run down your hand and onto your thigh, staining your (s/c-t) skin. I can't even put myself out of my misery. How weak. You let out a dry laugh, tossing the knife away from you as your stomach let out a loud growl. You ignored the sound, standing to your feet to walk into the bathroom attached to the bedroom you were in. You hadn't seen the shower in days, let alone taken one since you started staying with your mom again. You stood in front of the mirror, jumping slightly at your appearance. Dark circles were under your eyes, your face was sunken and your hair was an absolute mess. You scratched the nest atop your head, cringing at the layer of dandruff that ran along your scalp. You sighed, leaning against the sink to look at yourself more intently in the reflective glass in front of you. "I want to get better", you said firmly to yourself, locking (e/c) eyes with your reflection. "I have to get better. But I can't do it alone and I can't do it all at once." You licked your cracked lips, pushing back off of the sink. "So let's start small. With a much-needed shower." You then turned to the crystal prism behind you, shuffling over to it. You pushed the glass sliding door open, reaching inside to turn on the water. You pushed up your sleeves as to not get your sweater wet, feeling the temperature of the water. Once it was at a point that you were comfortable with, you closed the shower door, beginning to peel your clothes off. Your sweater stuck to you, dried blood covering the inside of the sleeves. Your arms were littered with scars, some deeper than others. You winced, throwing the piece of clothing down before working on your shorts and then lastly your undergarments. You let out a deep breath, grabbing two towels from the cabinet. You placed the bigger one on the edge of the sink, taking the smaller one into the shower with you. When the warm water hit your body you sighed, feeling as though you could wash all your problems away. All of your intrusive thoughts and feelings; just starting at a clean slate again. You let the towel get soaked under the water before squeezing it and wiping the cloth across your face. You then grabbed the bottle of shower gel, turning it upside down and squeezing the plastic. You watched as the soap fell onto your towel, already beginning to foam from coming in contact with the water. You put the bottle down, using both of your hands to rub the fabric of the towel together. You took your time cleaning yourself, paying attention to every detail on your skin. The soap stung the newer cuts along your thighs, but you continued to clean your legs down to your feet.
By the time you were ready to rinse off, you were covered head to toe in soap suds. Your skin was slightly raw from how much you scrubbed, but at least you felt clean. You turned the knob in the shower to put the water at a colder temperature to cool your skin. You let out a sigh of content as the cold water hit your aching body. When you started shivering, you put the water back to a more comfortable temperature, grabbing the shampoo. You wet your (h/c) hair thoroughly, squeezing a glob of shampoo into your hand. You scratched at your scalp, spreading the shampoo everywhere. You winced slightly at how good of a job your nails were doing, taking your hands out of your hair to examine them. They weren't exceptionally long, but they were longer than what you were comfortable with. You made a mental note to give yourself a Mani/Pedi later, going back to washing your hair. Once you felt as though your scalp was clean, you rinsed your hair out, running your fingers through it in an attempt to detangle. After that, you used the conditioner, repeating the process all over again. You found yourself humming softly as you stepped out of the shower and onto the bathmat. You grabbed the towel you had been saving on the sink, patting your body dry. You wrapped the towel around your form, walking over to the cabinet to get another for your hair. As you were about to walk past the mirror and out of the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflective glass. You noticed you looked considerably better and smiled softly at the fact. Pulling one of the drawers open in the dresser, your stomach growled again. You rolled your eyes, taking out a clean pair of underwear and a bra before dropping your towel. You put the undergarments on, bending down to another drawer to grab a pair of black tights and a lightweight striped sweater. You didn't want to put on a pair of jeans because you felt as though the material would be too rough on your thighs. And the black tights won't show any blood if I accidentally break open a scar, you thought, sliding the cotton fabric up your legs. You then kicked the drawer closed, gathering up your towel and dirty clothes you had just taken off. You tossed all of it into the hamper, dragging the thing with you. You stopped at your bedroom door, unlocking and twisting the knob slowly. You peeked out into the dark hallway, listening for any sign of your mother. "Mom", you called, but no one answered. You nodded to yourself, only to be stopped dead in your tracks after opening the door. You had almost stepped in the plate of food on the floor and you let out a sigh of relief from being able to catch yourself. You bent down to pick up the plate, noticing that it was still hot. You took the plate with you into the laundry room, still dragging the dirty clothes hamper behind you. You checked inside the washer and dryer to see if anything was in either of the machines and to your pleasure there wasn't. You quickly sorted out your clothing, deciding to wash colored garments first so that you could get the yellow sweater you had just taken off in and out of the laundry room without your mom seeing. You didn't want her to know that you had been harming yourself. You didn't even want to think of what her reaction would be. You shuddered, closing the door to the washing machine and then turning it on. You left the hamper in the laundry room, quickly walking into the kitchen to get a fork for your food.
    "(Y/n)?" You stopped in your tracks after hearing a familiar voice. You then turned, your (e/c) eyes meeting with Miguel's dark brown ones. "¿Que estas haciendo, mi amor?"
    "What are you doing", you asked in rebuttal, pressing your back against the kitchen island. Miguel chuckled, closing the front door behind him and locking it.
    "You aren't supposed to answer a question with a question, princesa. But if you must know, I came to check on you." You pouted, sticking your fork into the mashed potatoes and gravy on your plate.
    "I was getting a fork", you mumbled, your mouth full.
    "When was the last time you ate before this", Miguel asked, approaching you. You simply shook your head, eating more of the mashed potatoes. He sighed, pushing a tuft of hair behind your ear that had escaped from your towel. "You look tired, cariña...how have you been sleeping?" You shook your head again, averting your eyes from Miguel's. "Your mother is worried about you. I'm worried about you."
    "I know"..., you said softly, turning slightly to put your plate down. "...but I don't want you to be", you finished, wrapping your arms around Miguel's waist. "I've already been a burden on my friends back in Beach City, and I don't want to be a burden on you guys too, so just — don't worry about me. Please..."
    "(Y/n), you will never be a burden to anyone, do you understand me", Miguel said, pushing you back slightly to look down at you. "We love you, cielito. Y nada cambiará eso jamás."
    "Why did you have to say it in Spanish", you whined, pressing your face into his chest. The older man chuckled, rubbing your back. "Now I'm going to cry...thanks, Miguel."
    "You're welcome, bebita. But seriously. Eat your food before I choke you out. You know I don't play about my daughters not eating." You giggled, squeezing him tighter.
    "Yes, sir."