Jenna Ortega Imagines

Painful Nights

(Warning: slight yelling, self harm, depression, and mild violence)

2nd Person POV:

You were home alone on a Friday night, casually hanging around in your pajamas. You were watching your favorite movie, waiting for Jenna to come home from a late night on set. You also knew she would be busy, especially since she was in movie after movie.

So, you weren't surprised when you got a text from her saying, she might not be home till almost 1am. You weren't mad though, you understood how busy her job could be. You were fine with staying home and watching her movies over and over again, thinking about how much you missed her.

You stood up from the couch, walking towards the bathroom. Shutting the door, you overlooked your appearance in the mirror. You had dark, heavy bags under your eyes, your face was a bit paler than normal, you had lost a lot of weigh unintentionally, and your eyes looked dead. They weren't filled with their normal spark of color or light.

You sighed, turning the facet in as you splashed some water over your face, feeling it drop from your chin. You looked up from the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror again. If anything, you thought that the water cleared your vision just to see how ugly you looked. You hated it, you hated yourself.

It was a new year, you wished that you could find the motivation to complete your resolution in changing yourself. Helping your physical appearance and to be more healthier. But, old habits resurfaced, especially when Jenna began to be more busy by the end and beginning of the year, leaving you alone for hours on end, most nights.

You carefully reached into the drawer beside you, your hands shook as you detached the sharp blade from your razor. It was brand new, never used. Just how you liked it. You fell to the ground, sitting with your knees tucked to your chest as you leaned back against the bathroom door.

Gently and lightly, you dragged the tip of the blade along your fragile skin. It created a white line, it wasn't enough to make you bleed, though.

You bit your bottom lip hard as you dragged it across your arm again, a bit more harder this time, you felt the burning and sharp sensation of the blade against your skin. You hissed when you felt it dig a little deeper, the pain only urged you on, as you watched the blood form like droplets along the line you cut in your arm.

It was a dangerous habit you had, harming yourself. You thought you put it past you, but you couldn't be clean for more than 2 months. You craved it. You felt as if you needed it to survive. It was like an addiction, one you are in full control of but is equally as dangerous.

You stood from the ground, rushing over to the bath tub as you examined the damage you had down to yourself. You could've done far worse, you have done it, but you decided that was enough for tonight. Besides, Jenna would be home soon.

You reached over for a rag in the cabinet, the pain no longer bother you, you found an odd amount of comfort in it. Something that worried your family and friends.

You wet the rag, running your arm under the lukewarm water, it didn't sting, it didn't burn, nor did it hurt. It felt as if you were giving yourself a bath.

You gently pressed the rag against your arm, dabbing it lightly, washing the blood away. The wound you created was nothing but a dark red line now, and you knew there was no hiding it from Jenna, so when you finish, you'd have to put a long sleeve on.

After throughout rinsing it and washing it as well, making sure no bacteria were present, you stood from the side of the tub, taking a towel from the rack and drying your arm.

As you made your way out of the bathroom, you entered Jenna and yours shared bedroom, removing your shirt to replace it with a long sleeved one.

The scratch you embedded in your skin was a mere 6 inches long, it was pretty big, no point in trying to disguise it with so much makeup. You'll just have to wear hoodies and long sleeves until it heals.