You know how sometimes, movies show a dam bursting, destroying whatever lies below? That’s what it’s like, to cut your skin. A dam slowly filling with water, until it bursts.

The year is 2010. I’m sat in English class, and it must have been warm because the sleeves of my school jumper were rolled up past my elbows.

This shouldn’t have mattered, but it did to me. I’d forgotten about the prominence of the angry red cuts slicing through the smooth porcelain of my inner arm, now flashing like a warning beacon to everyone around me. I usually wouldn’t forget. Usually, I was careful. I made sure my…