Mission: LOVE ⚔️ (mikasa x reader)

Attempt

Warning: this chapter will include mentions of self harm and attempted suicide. Only continue if you're comfortable, if not, just read the two sentences of this chapter and move on to the next.

It wouldn't be long before you were no longer able to pay your water bill, and practically every other bill for the house.

You still couldn't come to terms with the fact that this was actually happening. Sammy's been gone for three months, and you were all alone, rotting away in a house that reeked of mold.

You knew you had to get a job, but that'd just be so much added stress. You hated leaving your house. Your dad began giving less of a shit while you were struggling in so many ways.

You felt like you couldn't trust anyone. You cut ties with friends, stopped sending mail and didn't bother to open the ones you received.

It made you want to puke, eating less, starving yourself and putting such a change on yourself. Your body felt weak every single time you woke up, and every single time as you laid down for the night. There were days you didn't get up at all.

You would lie down in your bed and look around the room, remembering your mom tucking you into bed. Your mom telling you bed time stories and giving you gentle kisses on your forehead before bed. You even remembered the memories of Sammy. The times where you and her redesigned your old room to be one that fit the both of you. The times you'd hum a tune and slow dance in the open space in front of your rooms door.

You began to cry.

God damn it. Not again.

~

You needed food, even just a little. Enough to barely fill your stomach so you can go back to bed.

Your sense of self worth was out of the door as you could no longer use your oven, microwave or refrigerator. Only food you found in the cabinet were food good enough to eat. And even then, who knows how long it'll take for them to expire.

Your eyes squinted shut as you limped back up the stairs to your room before turning around, dropping the muffin you'd picked up, and ran to the bathroom.

Your body couldn't take the stress it was receiving. You threw up into the toilet bowl just in time. Yet, you've never felt this disgusted with yourself.

You knew you needed to eat. But starving yourself until death didn't sound too bad at this point.

You had nothing except this stupid house, but what was a house supposed to do? It was good for memories and shelter. Nothing else.

Just dying would be so much more peaceful yet here you were, hurling aggressively into a toilet bowl you haven't cleaned in months.

Disgusting.

~

You woke up a month later, going for your daily routine. That daily routine being eating practically nothing and throwing it up seconds later, then going back to bed.

Depression was nothing cute and you had no idea what exactly was wrong with you. Maybe if you hadn't met Sammy in the first place. Maybe if your mom was still alive. Maybe you should've died with her.

You stopped showering to save the water bill as you felt your oily hair droop down by your face. Hygiene wasn't a thing you cared about anymore. You didn't care about anything, though.

Death seemed so simple yet you just couldn't do it. You couldn't die, your will to live prevented the idea of finishing yourself off. Why? Why couldn't you just die already?

The pills you've never touched in the cabinet were all lying flat on the kitchen table.

You picked a handful up before putting it close to your mouth. "Just do it (y/n)" you told yourself as your legs shook. You closed your eyes aggressively as you opened your mouth, tilting your head back and shoving the pills into your mouth.

'Just swallow, just swallow, just swallow' you clenched your eyes shut as you tried your best to just let the pills flow down your body and kill you.

"Bleh!" You spit out the pills into the sink before breathing heavily and filling your mouth with the dirty sink water, attempting to get the taste of the pills off of your mouth.

Why.... just why couldn't you do it?

You stare into the sink that had the hard pills sitting inside.

"God damn it!" You punch the rim of the sink as a teardrop falls from your eye to your fist on the counter.

"Just why couldn't I do it?" You begin to weep as you turn to the side to lean over the countertop of the kitchen island.

Your small weeps began becoming loud cries as you thought about your life. Why would your mind drift at a time like this? Why couldn't you just have the willpower to do it and not just wimp out like a pussy. It's not like there's anything to live for anyways.

Your vision became blurry as the teardrops spilled from your eyes onto the countertop.

"God damn it." You silently said as you realized your tears were nearly falling onto a piece of paper. You pushed it out of the way before pulling it towards yourself once more, wiping your eyes with your sleeve and calming your sniffles.

The scout registration... you'd forgotten about it. But what even was the point of going? They'd give you basic necessities but they wouldn't give you your old life back, or bring you happiness once again.

But it would be better than rotting away in this house that's close to shutting down completely if you didn't pay your bills.

You groaned before wiping the last year from your cheek and keeping your breathing calm, unlike before.

You looked at the paper which only needed your signature, address, and medical information.

You walked towards your room in the house, drooping from side to side as you climbed up the stairs. Arriving at your fathers old computer room, you pulled open the cabinets.

You hated this room of the house. Your dad spent so much time here when you were young. He didn't care about raising you, your mother did all of that. Your dad just spent his stupid life in this stupid room doing stupid work and stupid paperwork all the damn time.

But your health card and all information about your family was kept there in files.

You were never allowed in this room as a child, so going through the cabinets and files made you uncomfortable. You knew if you did this as a child, your dad would flip.

You found your name on a file before opening it up and looking through it.

Tons of pictures of yourself were placed in a paper book as you flipped through the pages. From pictures of yourself as a baby to pictures of you first learning to ride a bike.

Why did your mother never tell you about this?

You continued to flip through the file before coming upon one under your name titled "mom".

Although you were getting offtrack, you were curious to know what "mom" meant under your files.

You opened the separate section titled mom before flipping through the pieces of paper.

There were tons of letters, following by a few pictures of your mom holding you up at the hospital when you were born.

You flipped through the next page before stopping, staring wide eyed at the note in front of you.

"Dear (y/n), my death wasn't an accident. Be careful. Love, mom."