Aurora

I woke up the next morning, one side of my face still wet from my soaked-through pillow. Who knew that one person could generate so many tears? I wondered. The sun was coming in through the window and down into my eyes. Stupid sun. I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow. For a brief second, I forgot last night. I had forgotten the horrible thing that I had done. I took the pillow off of my head and sat up in my bed. Then everything flooded back to me as soon as I saw my arm. How was I even going to hide this? If somebody found out, I could get sent away to rehab, or even some kind of mental hospital. Was I crazy? Why did I even do it in the first place? I regretted what I had done, yet somehow I wanted to do it again, and that scared me. When I did it, when I cut myself, I just couldn’t control it. I just kept wanting more.
What would happen if it wasn’t enough?