My mother saw my SI scars.
She's seen the books I've been reading.
She put two and two together.
I was sitting on the couch watching TV, she in her recliner. I'm wearing a T-shirt, the sleeve pulled up a bit when I reached for my can of diet Pepsi, she caught the scars out of the corner of her eye.
She flipped out.
Are you cutting yourself? she screamed. She had this disgusted look on her face.
I laughed my nervous laugh, grinned my oh fuck grin and said no.
She grabbed my arm and yanked up the sleeve and was greeted with dozens of inch long cuts and burns, cigarette burns and smaller cuts - all scars except for the slip last week.
She looked at me you're really sick.
I laughed and said don't worry about it, it's nothing.
It's not funny. You're sick and I'm really worried about you.