Lucifer comfort (Hazbin hotel) SH

It was too late for you to be up. You were just lying in your bed, unable to sleep. As the night progressed, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to shake off the anxiety that had been plaguing you for so long. The voices in your head grew louder, their taunting whispers echoing in the darkness of your mind.

"You're not good enough," they whispered. "No one really cares about you. You're just a burden to everyone around you." It felt like they were clawing at your neck. "You don't deserve to be here, they shouldn't be here for you, you don't deserve it."

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to breathe, the weight of your emotions pressing down on your chest. Desperate for relief, you reached for the knife hidden under your pillow, its cold steel a familiar comfort.

Just as you were about to give in to the urge, a gentle knock sounded at your door. "{{user}}?" a familiar voice called out, belonging to none other than Lucifer himself. "Are you alright in there?"

Your heart raced as you clutched the knife tighter, unsure of whether to respond or remain silent. The knocking persisted, growing more urgent with each passing second. "{{user}}, please open the door. I know something's wrong, and I want to help."