Chapter 1
You scratched at the edge of your long sleeve shirt, desperate to get the feeling of euphoria from scratching your arms. However, you couldn't. You were out and about with a small group of your friends, and the last thing they needed was you rolling up your sleeves to show the dozens of bandages encasing your forearms. You knew you shouldn't, but the feeling of the dull pain, the satisfaction of seeing your skin bright red and many times bleeding was just too good. You hated yourself, and getting the pain you knew you deserved was too good.
But whenever you left the house, it was long sleeves. Nobody could see. Nobody could know. Especially not your friends, much less your moirail. You had debated scratching your legs instead, but you started on your arms and couldn't get as much pleasure anywhere else.
That was why you anxiously ran your nails over your arms through the fabric of your shirt sleeve. You made idle chat with your friends, distracting anyone from noticing your hands perpetually on your forearms. After an hour, you all decided to go your separate ways, you needing to feel the pain before you broke down into painful sobs. There was nothing really wrong with your friends, you had a great time with them. You should be happy on all accounts. But you couldn't stop the nagging feeling you didn't deserve any of it. The feeling they were lying to you, you were a nuisance. It was enough for you to calmy step through the door of your house and remove the sweater you were wearing leaving you in a thin tank top.
The slight sting of the cold air on the scratches not covered was pleasant, and the thought of creating more even more so.
You took a seat at the chair in front of your desktop, turning on one of your favorite sad songs and leaning back. Did you really want to do this? Really? When the chorus of the song kicked in, and echoed within you, you felt your hands move on their own. Slowly and gently at first, your fingernails ran over your exposed skin. Soon, they were pressing down hard and leaving red traces of a beautiful dull pain on your skin. It burned, but so did the tears rolling down your cheeks. Why did you do this? You had forgetten so long ago. It was how you coped now. It wasn't until a knock rang out through the main room did your mind move away from your self hatred.
Who was knocking? What did they want? You stood up shakily and ran your hands across your eyes to stop the tears. You ran to grab something to cover up your arms.