I felt her trace the scars on my wrists. She did that everyday. I had no idea why, but I guess my sister just felt the need to do that.
“Why do you have to do that, Sarah?” I snapped. It was really getting annoying.
“Well I wouldn’t be able to do this if you hadn’t started cutting yourself in the first place!” she snapped back.
This “fight” happened almost everyday. Sarah would make sure our parents weren’t home, then she’d trace my scars. My parents still hadn’t found out yet.
“Cass, I just don’t get it! Why’d you start?” She would never get the answer. I was never going to tell her, because the only reason I started, was her. How perfect she was and how much pressure I was under to be just like her.
She had no idea how hard it was to be under so much pressure all the time. She never had a perfect sister that everyone expected you to be like. All your teachers always going “Sarah could always do this, why can’t you?”
“I’ll never tell you. Ever.” She just stood there and stared.