I Dare You, I Bet I Can - Max Verstappen

𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓋

Today was no different; I knocked and immediately opened the door.

I should've waited.

"Jasmine!" Out of reflex, I immediately threw the door closed behind me.

She looked at me with even more panic than I felt coursing through my veins right now. I ran up to her and kneeled in front of her.

Little streams of blood covered her underarms; her breathing was heavy as she, with trembling fingers, put down the little blade next to her.

"Jassie," I trembled out; the tears were burning behind my eyes. She still didn't say anything; she looked at me, and I saw the tears building up behind her eyes.

I wrapped my arms around her, and she let out a sob as she fell into my embrace. I sat back down and tightened my embrace around her, trying to gather my own thoughts.

Jasmine kept crying, and that's when I noticed the scars on her upper arms, too. They weren't that big, but the white lines were there; anyone who would see them could easily guess they weren't there due to an accident.

"Jassie," I whispered again as I kept stroking her back. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

She slowly nodded and let go of my shirt; it was soaked with her tears, and that's when she finally faced me. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks had salty streaks and were even a bit swollen.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly; I almost hadn't heard it because her voice was softer than a whisper.

"I love you, Jasmine," I whispered back and pulled her into another hug; I kissed the top of her head.

"Don't..." She swallowed as her voice cracked. "Don't tell Mom, please."

I closed my eyes; she was asking me to keep this a secret for our mom. Her mental health was clearly declining, and my mom didn't see it this extreme. But this was direct proof.

"Please, Charlie," She looked back at me; her eyes were pleading, so I nodded.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up," I helped her stand up, and we walked to her ensuite bathroom. I let the water from the sink run for a few seconds so it wouldn't be freezing cold.

I grabbed a clean cloth and started gently dapping the fresh wounds, and I thank God it was just a few, and they weren't that deep.

Who knows what would've happened if I walked in a few minutes later?

"Where is the Christmas dress Mom bought for you?" I asked, and she shrugged.

"I am not wearing that one."

"It is long-sleeved."

She looked surprised but nodded, "Okay then. It's in the closet."

I walked to her closet and pulled out the dress, handing it to Jasmine. And when she went to change, I cleaned her room—carefully picking up her blades and putting them away. I could've thrown them out, but she would just get new ones.

Her bed was messy, so I grabbed the corners and tried making her bed. Her cigarettes fall next to it. I sighed as I realized how bad the situation actually was.