When writing a story, I realised that I used to self-harm. It was when researching forms of self-harm that weren't obvious, and I saw that pulling your hair out was self-harm. A few years ago, every time I was really sad, angry or something bad happened, I'd pull clumps of my hair out, literally. It wasn't until writing one chapter in my story that I found out it was self-harm. I self-harmed without even realising it, and that terrifies me.
What I just wrote means that all three girls (the children) in my family have self-harmed at some point in their lives. My oldest sister cut when she was fifteen, and my other sister did it recently, but they have scars. I don't. No-one even knows what I did.
My family has a lot of problems. The sister that recently self-harmed has epilepsy and bulimia. She's hurting herself so much, and that scares me more than the fact that I used to self-harm without knowing. My other sister became pregnant recently, but seven weeks in she miscarried. In the street one day, the brother of her boyfriend stopped me and my sisters and told her that she deserved to lose the baby.
If you're still reading, thank you. It means a lot to me.