I'm pretty sure that I'm not the only one who has thought about hurting themselves. I... guess it began about 2 years ago, when I had my first real threat from my step dad; we got in some petty argument and, given his anger problems (he never went to any management, despite our family's pleas), he started yelling at me about eating food I hadn't refrigerated. Now, I know I was in the wrong, but I didn't see why he was always laying such verbal abuse on me. And I snapped. Called him a bastard, and walked downstairs to the garage. My step dad quickly said he'd disown me, then he charged down to meet me as I was wearing my shoes. He raised his hand and said he was going to hit me, but my mother held his hand back. Then, he said he'd forgive me if I got down on my knees, bowed my head, and asked for forgiveness. I knew that if I did that, I'd lose all respect for me, him, and my family ...So I said no. My mother pleaded that I reconsider, and this was the first time she betrayed me. Told me, directly, to do as my step dad said. I said no again, turned my back, and left. My step dad went upstairs for some reason or another, and my mother followed. Since my house has an alarm system, I opened the door to indicate that I had "left" the house, and quickly double-backed into the garage, and then into the wine cellar. In the wine cellar... there was this small. I can't really describe it, but... a very odd door. About 3 by 3 (ft), I think. I crawled into that and closed the door. When I had heard them leave in the car, I went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and tried to kill myself for the first time. But... I was too much of a coward, and in the end, I bit on my pride--something that I can honestly say effected me for the worse. This was an event that... really changed my outlook on life, really changed my beliefs on my family. Everything that came afterward was a rejection, a self-taught lie for me to continue moving on in the family. I lied to myself that I was happy. I continued the lie that I had everything... and as a result... a few years after that, the parents are divorced, and I'm seriously considering suicide, if not, at least, self-harm. For some reason, I see cuts all over my body, and I don't... recognize them from anything. Am... I seriously hurting myself in my sleep? I don't know... all I know is that this isn't the entire story, but it's a reference for those who want to help. I... don't really feel alive anymore. Pain seems to put things in perspective for me, but only for a little while. It's... sort of... sad.