Sasha removed her nylons and threw them away. The scratches on her legs were minimal. She knew they would be gone in a day or two. The helpless, aching feeling she usually felt when she was tempted to cut started to overtake her. "I will not allow Eric to control my life!" She stated loudly. Shouting the affirmation was one of the suggestions her therapist had given her to try to control her need to harm herself. "That never works. I don't even know why I try it." She started going over the other things her therapist had suggested she do when she felt the need to cut come over her. She took a piece of paper and wrote Eric's full name on it. She lit a candle near the sink and set a corner of the paper on fire. She let it burn until she could no longer hold it, dropping it into the sink as she watched the final portion burn. She sighed and blew out the candle. "I could burn an entire forest down and I would still feel the same amount of anger and rage I do right now."

She walked through the kitchen and down the hall toward her room. She took off her dress and hung it with the rest of the things she needed to take to the dry cleaners. She pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of warm-up pants. She walked toward her living room, hoping that watching TV would get her mind off the guilt and rage she was experiencing. 'I never should have had the champagne to drink tonight.' She chided herself. She bit her lip. 'I should have left the minute I found out the dinner party was just for Brian and I. I never should have stayed!' She chastised herself. She felt her fingers curl under, her nails pressing into her palms. This was the way it always started. Even when she cut her nails short, knowing her actions would not result in any cuts or scrapes, she still found herself pressing her fingers into her palms. Dr. Travers called it her "pre-coping mechanism." If she could manage to stop herself there and get her mind on something other than what was bothering her, she usually succeeded in not harming herself. She took several cleansing breaths and settled in to watch the cartoons she had found while channel surfing. The ringing of the phone startled her out of her trance. She picked up the receiver without looking at the caller ID. "I told you I'm fine Brian. I just need to get some sleep. You don't need to…"

"I'm not Brian." The caller cut her off. "But I would like to know who he is. Who did you screw tonight Sasha?"