That was the first question on my lips:
"Why? What is so bad in your life?"
Her reply was simple: "I had a s*** argument with my mum and dad."
"They caught me smoking."
"They caught you... what?"
I knew she'd smoked in the past, but she'd convinced me she'd quit.
"Vicky... What's wrong? Seriously?"
"Kate - just p*** off. I don't want to talk about it."
Things spiralled downward from that point. Every day she'd come in with more cuts on her arm. They started on the back of her arm (not the side with all the prominent veins) near the elbow, but got closer and closer to the big thick vein that would spurt blood if she cut it.
Se got a mentor in school - a teacher who would talk to her about it and convince her it wasn't the right thing to do. However, in one History lesson, I was sat next to her and she was using the pin on her badge to stab her arm. Well, that was it. I snatched the badge off her and put it in my pocket.
"Kate - What the f***?"
"I don't want you hurting yourself."
"It's my arm, my badge. Give it back now."
"No - I won't let you do this."
After the lesson, my other friend Lucy said to me:
"Why were you and Vicky arguing?"
"She was trying to stab herself."
So I had to explain to Lucy what Vicky was doing and "why" and we resolved together to try and make her stop.