There was an interesting thing that happened before. I used to live in the dorms with three other girls. Unlike the dorms in Brookes, my previous dorm had bunk beds. I lived on the lower bunk and discovered a fruit knife under my bed. We were definitely not supposed to have any sort of knives in the dorm.
I brought some apples to school during the weekend, so I asked if anyone had any knives. My roommates told me to eat it without peeling the skin, like how a normal person would.
I knew the person living on the top bunk was cutting herself because it was just really obvious. You can’t hide things like that from people who live in the same room as you. I thought it was none of my business back then, but thinking about it now, I would’ve “found” the knife and used it to peel apples instead of ignoring everything that had happened. But even now, during this time of the virus, I can’t bring myself to talk to her. Sometimes, I wish she was never here to experience it all, simply because I can’t think of how to help her. Or worse, maybe I knew how to help her, and I could’ve, but I just never really felt like it.