'Show me your thighs.' He said.
'No.' She responded firmly.
'Show me your thighs.' He persisted.
'No.' She repeated.
'One way or another, you're going to show me. Make it easier for both of us.' He said in a softer tone.
She slowly lifted up her skirt to reveal the pale skin of her thighs, covered in scars, just like the ones on her wrists.
'Why would you do this? You already have enough on your wrists.' He asked slowly, still trying to comprehend.
'I started on my thighs so no one would notice. But after the first month I realised no one really cared, so I moved to my wrists. I kind of alternated between the two after a while.' She admitted.
'But why? What made you do this?'
'With everything that's going on in my life, all the times I've been hurt, I feel like this is the only pain I can control.'
T h i s i s s t u p i d , I ' m s o r r y .
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