You stood in front of your father Scara, with bare, outstretched arms. He examined them, checking for cuts. After one incident long ago, when your father found out that you were cutting yourself, he began checking your body every evening, looking for white marks from wounds.

What is this?

The man points to several small scratches on his hands.

I ask what is this?

His voice gets rougher and his grip on your wrists tightens.

Answer.