Scarlett Johansson x Daughter One Shots

again

Age: 18.
Warnings: self harm-cutting.

Y/N:
I thought that I was getting better, but here I am again, sat on my bathroom floor with a blade in my hand.

I was nine days clean up until now.

Sometimes I don't even know why I hurt myself or what leads me to doing it, but I almost feel as though it's the only thing that keeps me feeling alive. It probably sounds stupid, but the pain that comes every time I press the blade against my skin is keeping me actually feeling something other than utter darkness.

My mom knows I struggle with self harm. She found out about a month ago and she's done everything she knows to do to help and I am eternally grateful for her, but sometimes I wish she didn't know, because then I wouldn't be carrying the guilt of her worrying about me all the time.

I knew she'd be home from work in a few minutes and I don't really want her finding out I've relapsed...again, so I clean up all the blood on my arms and any that dripped onto the tiles, flushed all the tissues down the toilet and washed my blade before hiding it under my mattress.

I finished up just as I heard my mom walk in the door. I threw a hoodie on and checked my face in the mirror to make sure it's not too obvious that I've been crying before making my way downstairs to see her.

"Hi baby," she smiles happily as she sees my come down the last few steps. "Hi," I force a smile before wrapping my arms around her waist, giving her a hug. She does the same, kissing my forehead.

"Did you have a good day?" She questions. I just shrug in response. I know if I tell her no, I'd cry. I know if I tell her yes, I'd also cry because she'd be able to see right through me. "Did you have a good day?" I ask before she has the chance for any further questions.

"My day was okay," she answers. "Did something happen? You seem upset."
Of course she knows. I don't even know how she does it, but she seems to be able to pick up on how I'm feeling all the damn time.

"No," I answer simply. She slowly pulls back from our hug and looks at me, worried. "You know you can talk to me, baby?" She assures me. I take a deep breath and nod, looking at her with tears in my eyes. "Oh sweetheart, what's wrong?" She frowns as she wraps one around my back and walks me over to the couch.

I don't get to answer her before I start crying. We both sit down and she pulls me in so that I'm laying in between her legs with my back against her chest. Her arms wrap tightly around my body.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks in a gentle tone. Truthfully, I know that she probably already knows but I think she just wants to be sure. Still, I shake my head no.

I feel her sigh but she doesn't say anything for a few minutes as she holds me whilst I cry. She whispers sweet nothings to me as she tries to calm me down, which it does. The sound of my moms voice always comforts me.

"Baby, can I see your arms please?" She questions, taking ahold of one of my hands. I shake my head. "I didn't do it," I try to convince her. Every time she asks me that question knowing that I've done it again, I feel like I've disappointed her. And feeling like I've let my mom down is worse than any other feeling in the world.

"Okay honey, I just want to make sure. Please?" She coaxes gently. Again, I shake my head. She squeezes my hand and kisses the top of my head. "You know nothing you do could ever disappoint me, Y/N? I just want to help you my beautiful girl," she speaks in a soft tone.

Hesitantly, I nod. I let go of her hand and she loosens her arms from around my body before I slowly and carefully roll up my sleeves. Mom looks at my arms and I see her eyes become glassy which immediately makes me cry. "I'm sorry."

She looks up at me, her lips folded and her eyes drawn together. "Sweetheart, you never have to be sorry for struggling," she smiles sadly. "I just want you to know though, that no matter what, I am here for you. You are not alone, okay?"

I nod as she gently wipes my tears away. "It's okay to relapse. It doesn't make you a failure or anything even remotely related. Just know that this doesn't define who you are, yeah? You are more than your scars. You are more than you anxiety and you more than your depression," she assures me before gently kissing over my recent cuts.

"Would it be okay if I wrapped a bandage around them?" She questions. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Okay," she smiles gently. The two of us get up from the couch and she walks me into the kitchen. Whilst she reaches for the bandages, I sit on the counter.

Afterwards, she ordered Chinese food for dinner and we sat on the couch to watch Good Luck Charlie. Yes, we are both are technically adults but hey, that show is comforting.

I cuddled up closely next to mom and she pulled a blanket over us. "I love you baby, and I'm so proud of you," she smiles gently. "Thank you," I mumble, "I love you too."

__________
A/N: I promise to write more fluff but I needed to vent 'cause today has been terrible

anywayysss, I hope you have a lovely day or night whatever time it is that you're reading this <3