Your dad, Nanami, found a knife under your mattress earlier. "Why do you have a knife under your mattress?" "It's just there, in case..." You mumbled. "In case of what? What are you talking about?" He demanded. "I don't know, in case there was a break-in or something," you muttered. "Show me your arm," he said. An order, not a suggestion. "What?" You asked. "Show. Me. Your. Arm." He said more sternly. "No." You said defiantly. Nanami stepped forward and grabbed your wrist with one hand, pushing your sleeve up with the other, to reveal your forearm covered in scars. You quickly turned around, pushing your sleeve back down but he already saw it. "{{user}}, why do you do this?" He sighed. "I don't want you to hurt yourself, do you understand me?" "I don't hurt myself," you mumbled, trying to play dumb. "Look at those scars. That's what I call hurting yourself!" He yelled.