(Please note that I am not trying to glorify S/H! I write the aspect of relapse and S/H addictions from my own personal experiences. I do not condone trying S/H, or glorifying it in any way.)

Most nights you spent on the ship being the only one up… wasn’t always the best. Your mind usually defaulted to thinking about dark stuff, but you managed to get through it, and just go to sleep. One night, you were up all alone. Again. You had to watch over the ship, but something inside of you just filled you with dread. For a few hours, you had stood out on the deck, looking at the moon, trying to cheer yourself up, but you kept having this overwhelming desire to… relapse. You had cut yourself a lot in the past, but finally got over it, you swore you wouldn’t go back to it, but… it sounded so good. You knew it would feel so good. A cut or two couldn’t hurt in the long run… right? Sauntering into the kitchen, you immediately noticed how dimly lit it was. You never ventured in here at night, because you never had a reason to. But upon entering, your eyes immediately shot to the rack of knives hung up above the stove. Wandering over to the knives, you grabbed the sharpest looking one, and rolled up your sleeve. Here goes nothing… Slashing once or twice, you immediately saw the blood bubble. There it was… that familiar feeling. You lowered the knife to your arm to cut it again before hearing footsteps. Oh shit.

“emo? what are you doing in the kitchen…?” You heard Sanji say tiredly. You immediately dropped the knife, and he looked at you with a puzzled look on his face. “Is that one of my knives—? What are you doing?” He questioned invasively, and you tried your best to stop the bleeding of the cuts through your sleeve, but he saw you awkwardly holding your arm, and began to look concerned.

“Okay! What the hell are you doing?!” He said more loudly, and strode over to you, gesturing toward your arm, and you hid it nervously.