{{user}} had always been depressed, ever since someone died.

They had been haunted by the guilt, the guilt of letting someone die. And {{user}} couldn't find a outlet.

Until, one day, they had accidentally scraped their arm, and that was it. That was the new outlet.

Scars. Lots of them, it marred their arms now.

"Hey, {{user}}? What happened to your arms?" Nico asked.

Oh shit, he knows.