warnings: self harm, anxiety attack
age: 15
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NATASHA's POV
"Y/N/N, I need you to tell me what's wrong. What hurts? Is it your chest?" I ask my daughter who's currently doubled over on the couch, hugging herself tightly.
"Yeah," she replies through gritted teeth. My poor girl, the chest pain that comes with her anxiety really bothers her. It tends to get worse during the anxiety attacks she has sometimes, but her panic attacks are a whole other story.
Right now though it seemed to just be an anxiety attack which is somewhat better since it doesn't involve her breathing rapidly.
"Okay, detka. It's all gonna be okay. Can I carry you to your bedroom? Or mine?"
"Yours," she says, not being able to talk in sentences as a result of the immense pain she's in right now.
Once I've got Y/N and myself situated in my room and on my bed, I place her so that her head is resting on my bare chest and I pull my weighted blanket over her since it always makes her feel safer.
One thing I've learnt about my daughter is that skin-to-skin really calms her down. She enjoys feeling the warmth of my skin against hers and especially during her anxiety attacks when her whole body runs cold.
"Mommy, it really hurts," she cries into me and my face softens at the name. It's rare she calls me 'mommy', she only does it when she's super tired or when she's extremely distressed. So it's quite bittersweet actually.
"I know, baby, I know. You wanna try some deep breaths? I know they don't always help but they might," I suggest while running my fingers through her hair and pulling her closer into my side.
"It won't help. Mama, it hurts so bad, I can't. Why does this keep happening? Why doesn't it ever stop?"
"I'm so sorry, my love. Believe me, if I could take it away from you, I would. Anxiety is a horrible thing to have. Do you know what it is you need? I'll do whatever."
"There's only one thing I can think of..."
Of course. I should've known.
"Do you think we can wait it out? I'll just hold you and we'll watch some Brooklyn Nine-Nine?"
"I'm sorry, I really think I have to do it," she wails and starts viciously scratching at her arm.
"Baby, don't do that to yourself," I say firmly but gently and pull her hand away so I'm holding it in mine.
"It's the only way to make it go away!"
"It's not. It's not the only way. There's always another option. Always. You need to cry it out for hours and hours until the urge goes away? Fine. You need to scream into your mama's chest or shoulder until every ounce of anxiety has left your body? Go ahead. Do I have to physically restrain you so you don't do anything you'll regret? Just give me the word and I will hold on as tight as I can."
I'll never understand how difficult this is for her and how badly she wants to do this, because I haven't been there so I can't possibly understand. But that is my baby girl and I will not allow her to do something that's only gonna cause her more pain in the long run.
Y/N's POV
I know for a fact that mom won't leave me tonight after this, so there's no getting out of it at the moment. When we go to sleep however, I'll just sneak off and do it anyway. But for now and for her own peace of mind, I will let her believe that watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine will distract me.
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"Morning, sweetheart," she greets me the second I step into the kitchen. Everyone else is here too, but they all scramble to leave after noting the mood I'm in, everyone except mom and Wanda of course.
"What time did you leave my room? You weren't there when I woke up and I got up at six. That's early for you."
Shit, she's onto something.
"Um... like half five ish. I wanted to get some early morning training in," I lie and somehow manage to get her to drop the subject fairly quickly, until Wanda cuts in.
"Y/N, you can't have possibly been in there this morning. Clint, Steve, and I were all training. We didn't see you," my aunt says suspiciously and it makes mom drop what she's doing and turn her head to me.
"Y-yeah, I w-went for a run instead," I'm quick to defend, fibbing for the second time this morning.
"No, Friday would have alerted me if you left the Compound. I always put that setting on if I know you're in a risky mindset in case you run off. So, Y/N Romanoff, what were you doing at five-thirty in the morning?"
I'm in deep shit now. There's no way I can escape this. My arms burn and sting, my vision is clouded by an array of tears forming, and my knees can no longer keep me up as I fall to the floor and let out a series of broken sobs.
"Oh, sweetheart," mom coos sympathetically before joining me on the floor and pulling me onto her lap from where we're sitting, allowing me to cry it all out into her chest.
"Here you go, lovey," Wanda says and hands me a bottle of water, holding it up to my lips because sometimes, just sometimes, drinking water helps me to calm down since it stops me from breathing so rapidly.
"That's it, you're okay, baby. Mama's got you safe right here. It's all gonna be okay."
Once I've had a chance to settle myself and my cries have faded, I pick myself up off the floor and turn the opposite direction to the two women in shame. I'm wasting their time.
"No, you're not," my aunt speaks out of nowhere.
She promised us all that she wouldn't read our minds randomly, and she usually keeps that promise, except for when she's worried about one of us and we won't open up.
"You're not wasting our time," she repeats and walks back up to me, placing a hand on my shoulder which causes me to turn around and see my mom trying to hold back her own tears. She usually refuses to cry in front of anyone, but me and Wands are the two people she trusts with her life so she allows herself to be more vulnerable with us.
"I just... I don't think I can keep going like this," I admit in a whisper.
I can't keep going like this.