warnings: self harm (at a young age)
age: 11
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Y/N's POV
Being a child who hurts herself isn't easy. No one suspects it since I'm so young, therefore no one offers help. And I'm certainly not gonna be the one to bring it up.
Not a single person, including my own mama, has noticed. Oh how I wish she would. I can't say it's her fault, I've been the one pretending I'm okay and putting on a smile every day in order to convince her that I'm fine - because who wants a problematic child?
I suppose it all started when I had an argument with my friends one time. They said some mean things and I got so angry, the only thing I felt like doing was causing damage to myself, so I did.
And since then, it's become a relief for any bad or unwanted feeling I get, which seems to be a lot these days.
So as I'm once again slashing at my wrists, I don't realize that mom is standing right in front of me until it's too late and she's taken both of my hands in hers, mascara running down her face.
I try shuffling backwards, but her warm and soft touch lures me back.
"Y/N," she starts, her voice quiet and hurt, "Let me see," she begs, taking off the blanket I quickly threw over my arms so that she couldn't see the damage I caused upon myself.
"But... but you're just a baby," she whispers, drying her eyes with her sleeve before moving onto mine.
"I have bad thoughts sometimes. I can't help it," I defend and she gives up on wiping away my tears since new ones keep forming in their place.
"Oh, Y/N. My love, I know you can't! This isn't your fault. Sweetheart, I know this is hard, but can you tell me if you've had any thoughts of dying?"
To reassure her, I shake my head and watch as she studies my face before shifting her gaze back to my arms, both bloody and dripping.
Momentarily, two hands are hooked underneath my armpits and I'm brought into mom's bathroom as she holds me on her hip, hugging me until it's time for her to clean up my arms.
I obediently hold out both of my cut up limbs for her to soothe. When she's done placing the bandages, she leans down to kiss each of my arms and picks me back up again, holding on tightly as she walks me back into my room.
I just cry, and cry, and cry. Until my sadness turns into anger, and my anger turns physical.
Mom has to restrain me from behind so that I don't start hurting myself again.
And so I struggle against her over and over, not letting up the fight. Until eventually, the exhaustion takes over, and I fall asleep safe and sound in my protector's arms.
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to everyone who gave me a request on my message board, im working on them as quick as i can and i've managed to complete a few already !! 🤍