Work Text:
Chloe stood alone in the kitchen, late at night.
She was tired and stressed but, as was the case with most of her nights nowadays, she couldn't sleep.
She stood in nothing but her underwear and an oversized t-shirt, eyeing the knife block on the counter.
She'd never self-harmed before, but she'd be a liar if she said she'd never thought about it. She'd had many moments like this over the years where she became transfixed on the thought, unable to ignore it.
She imagined taking the knife from the block and putting it to her inner wrist, where such an important vein sat in waiting.
She imagined pressing in the knife, clean metal against pale skin quickly flooded with red as she put the blade in.
She imagined dying in that kitchen and her mom or, worse, David finding her the next morning. The edgy, annoying, nagging daughter, dead on the floor in nothing but her underwear and a band shirt.
She came back to herself for only a moment before the intrusive thoughts came back.
What if she took the knife and, instead of outright killing herself, pressed it into her arm away from the vein.
It'd be less blood, less permanent- A quick escape from the heaviness of her brain.
But, no. She couldn't. She knew she couldn't... Could she?
Do I need to go to the hospital?
She quickly ate the food she'd cooked, now a bit cold as she'd been focused on the whirring thoughts in her brain instead of the beep of the microwave.
Once finished, she returned to her room, away from the knives.
Here, she could get high, or listen to rock music to numb her thoughts, or both.
You'll be okay. Everything will be okay...
Probably.