Hiding

Not too long ago my mum found where I cut myself, and now she keeps checking. All that remains there are some thick and thin scars of pain. Every time I go into the bathroom I have to resist because I know she’ll find out. I don’t know how to deal with the pain any other way, I need the comfort that one stream of blood gives me. I just need it. I started doing it somewhere else, but it’s not the same in a way, it sounds stupid, but it doesn’t give me the same release. I hate that she found out. I hate that she can’t accept that I need to do this.