HUGE TRIGGER WARNING. SELF HARM OBVIOUSLY. PLEASE STAY AWAY IF YOU'RE TRIGGERED AND STAY SAFE BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY STAY ALIVE.

Requested by AshlynGarrett. I hope you enjoy!

These thoughts and descriptions of self-harm are completely based on my own experiences. I'm not trying to romanticize self-harm or use it just as a plot for a story. This is all me. It's serious. Please don't self-harm, ever.

The darkness surrounds you, taunting you. Screaming.

He's not here. You know what that means.

It feels like you're simply drifting away at the edges, the shadows pulling you farther and farther from reality.

We are.

You stand in the middle of your pitch black bedroom, silent tears pouring out of your eyes. You're clenching your fists so hard your fingernails dig into your palm. The darkness somehow feels better than the light, to you, right now. Though you can't see it, you stare straight ahead at the dresser you know is in front of you.

That last drawer, at the very bottom, hidden under piles of clothes, is a blade. Two, in fact. Maybe three. You don't know. You haven't checked in a long, long time.

Walk forward. Open the drawer. Die.

Shivers run up and down your spine. You shake your head repeatedly.

You're not shaking your head to say 'no', you're shaking your head to get those things out.

But they don't get out. In fact, they seem to bury themselves into your brain even more.

You take a deep breath as you, ignoring the tiny part of your brain that's screaming for you to stop, take a step forward.

Your eyes are wide, and your mouth is slightly agape. You reach out your hand and take another step, as if you're Sleeping Beauty about to touch the deadly spinning wheel. You might as well be. Same fate.

Your entire body is shaking as you kneel down in front of the bottom drawer of the dresser.

Before touching the handle, you look around the bedroom one last time.

You can't see anything, but you know they're there. You tap your fingers on your thigh as you stare in horror at the dark.

Open it.

You let out an audible noise, but you don't know exactly what it is. Something between a gasp, a cry, and a scream.

You squeeze your eyes shut and put your hands over them. The end of your palms press into your closed eyelids. Your head pounds, as does your heart.

You can't take it anymore. You feel as though your life is slipping away anyway, so might as well-

You slap yourself, right across your face. Your cheek stings.

Now why'd I go and do that?

But you know why. You had to stop yourself from thinking these thoughts somehow.

It's true, though. No matter how much you deny it. You don't feel alive anymore. You don't feel your fingers, your toes. You can only feel the pounding migraine in your head.

Someone taps on your shoulder. At least you think they do.

Turn around.

You don't. This has happened before, long ago. You know it's no one. No one except your own fear, your own demons.

You remain kneeling as you stare at the dresser drawer. It will be easy, you think, to just give up. Give in. Open the dresser, get the blade, just like they said. But a part of you is still screaming inside. Begging and pleading for you to stop what you're doing right now.

Do it. You're weak, I know you are. We know you are. Everyone knows you are. Please us. Prove us right and do it.

"Shut up!" You scream, holding the sides of your head. You hunch over and squeeze your eyes shut. "Leave me alone!"

You shiver. You want so desperately to turn the lights on, to walk away from that dresser for good, to prove them wrong, but you just can't bring yourself to do it. Your blood runs cold, and you feel your entire body freeze. Your toes curl. You grip the sides of your head so hard you could pull out tufts of hair.

This is fear. Raw, undisguised, absolutely painful fear. You've only felt this once before, you must remind yourself. You promised, those years ago, that you would never feel this kind of fear again.

Yet here you are.

"Leave me alone!" You repeat, hoping that invisible monster sitting next to you, hiding in the dark, will stop tugging on your sleeve. That they'll stop whispering things in your ear, awful things. That their friends will let go of your arms and your legs and your mind.

The invisible monster leans in, real close, and you can almost hear them whisper, 'Now'.

You bite your lip so hard it bleeds. You taste the slightest bit of sickening, salty blood, and that makes you absolutely lose it.

Suddenly, the air around you seems thin. You clutch at your throat, desperately gasping for oxygen. Your breath hitches as you let out a sob. With your right hand grasping your throat, your left reaches through the dark and wraps around the cool handle of the dresser drawer.

Finally, they snigger.

An awful feeling forms in your stomach. That sinking feeling that you felt as a child when you were doing something you weren't supposed to, and you knew it. You blink before yanking the drawer open.

Yes. Yes. Do it. Do it now. Right now. Hurry.

Doing exactly as they say, you push away the shirts and the leggings and the socks and everything that is getting in between you and that blade. After removing all the clothing from the drawer, you reach your hand inside and feel around for those blades you know are somewhere in the back.

You freeze when your hand wraps around something cold and sharp. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear the all too familiar sound of your fingernails against metal.

Shaking like a leaf, you slowly retract your arm. You hold the blades to your chest as if you were protecting them. Hiding it.

You don't hesitate, not another second. You hold the stack of about five blades in one one hand and with the other, you pick out a random one and hurriedly drag it across your bare arm.

You smile psychotically as you feel the familiar stinging feeling on your skin, and the warm blood trickling down your forearm.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Coward.

You like it.

Words ring through your mind, but you don't care. It's as if you're a desperate addict, the way you struggle to hastily make more and more marks on your skin. You don't notice how heavy you're breathing and how badly you're shaking and how much you're crying. You're too focused on cutting deeper and deeper. The only sound in the dark bedroom is your whimpering and the soft swoosh of the blade as you continue cutting.

"(Y/N)?"

Your eyes go as wide as they can go. Your face goes slack. The lights turn on.

Not even blinking from pure shock, you jump up and spin around to face the door of the bedroom. The blades slip from your hand and fall to the floor, making a mesmerizing sound like distant metallic rain.

"Y-You..." Your breath hitches. "You weren't s-supposed to...be h-h-home yet," is all you can manage to choke out. Shame washes over you, and you want death now more than ever.

You don't look up at his eyes. You can't bring yourself to do so. Instead, you stare at the suitcases around his feet. At his worn, calloused fingertips, still lightly tapping the side of his leg like it was a piano instead of a pair of jeans.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and the pools of tears that were forming finally spill over.

"(Y/N)," he says your name again. His voice is low.

"Dan," you reply, simply because you don't know what else to say.

He lets out a short, pained breath. He slowly reaches out his hand.

You don't take it. You quickly glance at the blades scattered on the floor, then back up at Dan. He follows your eyes, and his arm falls. He remains silent.

He clenches his teeth and just looks at you, a look that says, 'Don't you dare.'

It all happens so fast. A blur. You fall to your knees, desperately gathering as many blades as you can and trying to drag them across any part of your body you can reach. At the same time, Dan rushes over to you, wraps his arms tightly around your waist, and lifts you up off the floor.

"No!" You shriek, all of the blades flying out of your hands yet again. You kick your legs, trying to escape Dan's grip, but he just holds you tighter. "No! Dan, put me down! Let go of me! Let me go-!"

He carries you through the flat and to the lounge, you kicking and screaming the entire way. He throws you onto the couch. As soon as he lets go, you take your opportunity and try to run away, but he just puts his hands on your shoulders and holds you back.

You struggle against him for a while, but you finally calm down. Tears still pour out of your eyes. Dan stands over you, pinning you against the back of the couch.

"Please tell me," he says. His voice is soft, broken. You lift your eyes to meet his. His brown eyes are intense and flashing with anger, but are still somehow...gentle. "Why are you hurting yourself like this?"

His words break your heart.

"I-I'm s-so sorry..." You cry, but you're lying. Even here, in front of Dan, you still want nothing more than to go back in that room and pick up those blades.

"No, I don't want you to tell me you're sorry," Dan shakes his head. "I want you to tell me why. Please."

You just cry some more. The way Dan sounds so broken, so confused, so angry, it hurts you. Physically hurts.

"(Y/N)!" Dan yells, no, screams. He shakes you back and forth by your shoulders. "Tell me!"

"They made me do it, Dan!" You yell, finally. You stare up at Dan for a while with wide eyes, trying to read his expression. It's almost impossible. You know him, really know him, and yet you can't even tell what he's thinking now.

Silently, he lets go of your shoulders and sits down softly on the couch next to you. His eyes are cast downward for a good while, just...thinking. He exhales, then looks up at you.

When your eyes meet, you can see the tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you just close it again. Your throat is sore from crying and screaming, but it's not even that. Your brain, your heart, couldn't bring itself to find any words at all.

Dan simply shakes his head ever so slightly and pulls you into him. You sit sideways in his arms, all curled up like an upset child.

"Who's 'they'?" Dan asks, barely a whisper. He stares straight ahead, completely numb, but holds you close to him. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, almost like he wants to protect you. But from what? Yourself?

You shake your head and remain silent, except for the crying. You can't seem to stop crying. You're unable to answer, but for what reason? It's not like you can just tell him that your own mind told you to kill yourself.

Dan nods slowly, like he understands. You hope he does.

"Y-You left..." You whisper. Your head is resting on his chest, listening to his breath and his heartbeat. You can't decide which one you like more. "You left and it's not your fault and I'm not saying it is but when you left they-" you take a moment to sharply inhale before continuing, "-they came back, Dan. They saw you were gone and they knew you weren't there with me and they..."

You stop, mid-sentence, and just cry. You're so, so tired of crying, but you can't bring yourself to do anything else.

And when my car was far out of sight
He crept in her room and stayed there for the night

"How long have they been here?" Dan asks. He seems to hold on to you even closer, if that's even possible.

"S-Since you've..." You begin, but honestly do not have the strength to continue speaking.

"Been gone?" Dan finishes for you. His voice is still low, quiet.

You nod, and so does Dan. So the two of you just sit in silence for a good while. Dan hugs you, rocks back and forth slightly. You don't notice it, but you're clutching on to Dan - his arms, his black shirt - for dear life. Both of you are acting as if somebody is trying to pry you two away from each other.

"Do you love me?" Dan asks suddenly, his voice piercing the silence like a bullet.

For the first time the entire night, you stop crying. At last. Tears stop flowing out of your eyes as you look up at Dan in shock. "O-Of course I do!"

"Then..." He exhales, sounding defeated. "Why did you do this?"

You freeze. There's that question again: why? You don't answer because you don't know yourself.

"Every cut you make," Dan murmurs. "You have to give to me."

Dan shifts and lets go of you. He takes your hand and stands, pulling you up with him. Now the two of you are standing in the middle of the living room, barely inches apart but still not looking at each other.

"Go into the bedroom," Dan continues - painfully, you decide. He's looking down at his feet. "And cut as many times as you want. As many as you would've made if I hadn't walked in. Then give the same amount to me."

"I couldn't do that to you. I-I wouldn't do that to you," you rush out, trying to get your sentence in before he breaks your heart any further. It's already shattered.

"You almost did." Dan stops staring at the ground and finally shifts his eyes up. To you.

You stare back at him, even though it hurts to do so. You shudder and freeze and the same time, if that's possible. Your entire world becomes still.

Now it's your turn to look down. You're mouth is slightly agape, and your brain repeats a single line: I understand. And you do. Finally. You finally understand how stupid and selfish it is. To want to kill yourself, that is. Life is worth it. Staying alive is worth it. You're worth it.

You understand that killing yourself is like killing Dan, too.

Dan tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, so you look up at him. Immediately you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. You start crying again, sobbing into his shirt.

"It's okay," is all Dan says. "I'm here and you're not dead and it's okay." He hugs you tighter and soothingly rubs your back. For the first time this entire night, you feel safe.

I'm safe. Dan's here and they're not. I'm safe.

"You're so beautiful, (Y/N)." Dan's voice is so soft, so gentle. It almost makes the demons go away completely. Almost. You can still feel them tugging on your shirt and tapping your shoulder. You hug Dan so tightly your fingernails dig into his back a little bit. "Don't...Don't let them tell you different."

♡fin♡

Stay alive.