I don’t know what made me pick up the scissors that first night. I think I was just sick of feeling as if I couldn’t release the pressure inside o... me. Something had to give. Now it seemed that each time I had an attack, I wanted to cut myself again. ‘Long sleeves, it is,’ I growled, frustrated with myself. I dressed quickly, attempted a look in the mirror, and sighed, once again. Dark circles had permanently taken up residence on my pale face, giving my hazel eyes a haunted look. I looked. She held out her mug as she giggled,"It doesn't look quite so high and mighty now, does it? Is it tired? Maybe all that earlier exercise wore it out?" she was examining my lower parts as she came out with this, finding a lot more humour in the situation than I did, and went on, "Maybe it's just too cold for it. Bring diddums back under the rug and let Mommy warm it up." She sort of cooed this out and I guessed that she had well and truly got over her earlier misgivings, and I eagerly accepted. More

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