Sasha grabbed clean clothes and closed the bathroom door. She stripped down and removed the bandages she had applied the day before from her leg and stomach. She eyed the wounds cautiously. They weren't as bad as they had been a few days ago. The ones on her stomach had almost disappeared. She chastised herself for her lack of self-control. 'The mere mention of his name and you freak out and start destroying your body. Those therapy sessions were sure worth the money you pumped into them.' She turned on the shower and stepped in. The water stung the open flesh she had exposed. She soaped up her hair before gingerly washing the cuts on her stomach and leg with medicated soap like her therapist had directed her to in order to prevent infection. She had managed to stop herself before she had inflicted too much damage this time. 'Maybe I have made progress.' She sighed. She hated looking at her body. She loathed herself for what she had done. The years of abuse shown like bright red beacons on her pale white skin. She had scars on her upper arms, her thighs, her chest and her stomach. Nothing visible as long as she was wearing clothes. She hid the wounds well. No one who knew her had any idea what she did. No one would ever know. Looking at the scars made her ashamed of what she had done. The shame only served to heighten her disproval of her body and pushed her need to hurt herself as punishment for her lack of self-control. She took a deep breath and thought about Brian and his problems. 'Brian's life is far more screwed up than yours. Get off the pity trail and get on with your life.' She rinsed her hair and turned off the shower. She dried off. She reached for the blow dryer and dried her hair until it was barely damp. She opened her medicine cabinet and took out fresh bandages and antibacterial ointment. Her stomach was healed enough she didn't need to treat it but she knew the cuts on her thigh were still deep enough that they didn't need material from her jeans rubbing up against them. She bandaged them up, cursing herself as she struggled to resist the urge to make the wounds worse. She got dressed and applied the small amount of make-up she wore. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and opened the bathroom door. She walked out of her room and returned to where she had left Hannah.