With the television blaring,

sitting on the couch, I watched her pick at yet another scab on her hand.
I put my hand on her shoulder to catch her eye and I shook my head.
"You'll hurt yourself more," I told her, "don't."

Walking down the hallway, she grabbed my wrist, and there was blood. I found her a band-aid, and then washed up to my elbows with diluted bleach.

I don't think I like how normal this felt.