The muffled sound of crying came from inside the bedroom. I turned the knob, hurrying inside. Glancing quickly around the room, I saw the washroom door standing open. I ran to the open door, frightened of what might be ahead of me. Oh God, please tell me this isn't happening! 

I gulped down hard as tears burned in my eyes at the sight in front of me. I dropped to the floor, cradling her sobbing figure in my arms. As her body wracked with tears, I leaned over, opening the cabinet below the sink and taking out the first aid kit. As I continued to craddle her with one arm, I opened up the first aid kit with my other hand, taking out the antiseptic. "Shhh..." I whispered softly. "You're going to be alright." I grabbed some cotton balls and wipes and poured the antiseptic on them before dabbing them gently across her left wrist, cleaning her wounds. "It's going to be alright."

Her body slowly started to calm down, her sobs slowing into a steady flow of tears, rolling down her face. As I continued to wipe the blood from her wounds, tossing the blood stained wipes into the waste bin and getting new ones, she whispered quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I replied softly, moving on to clean up the wounds on her right arm. "This was just another bump in the road. I'm proud of the changes you have made so far, keep it up. Don't give up. I know you--"

"I don't want to hear it!" she spat back, her voice seething in pain. "I can't stand it! I hate myself!" Her body shook violently as the sobs wracked her body once again. "Nobody likes me! I'm weird! I'm not pretty! I wish I was never born!" She continued to spit out all of the things that she found wrong of her, none of which I could see as being true, all of them completely false.

I knew what she was going through. Hadn't I said very similar things about myself numerous times before I was able to recover? I knew what it was like to hurt yourself to feel a sense of comfort. 

That changed. My role reversed. Instead of being the one in pain, it was someone else. I saw clearly that what I had done to myself in the past had been damaging and realized how scary it actually was. 

I hated seeing her like this. I wanted what was best for her. Why couldn't she what I saw in her?

As she finished speaking, sobs continued to make her body shake. I tossed the last wipe into the bin before bandaging up her wounds carefully. 

After a few minutes, I got up to wash my hands in the sink. My eyes fell on the razor on the counter. Reaching over, I picked up the treacherous blade, tossing it in the trash with a look of disgust. I washed my hands, drying them off quickly before heading out the door. "Be right back," I said quietly.

I searched through the place until I found a package of markers. Snatching them up in my hand, I walked back to the washroom and sat on the floor beside her. 

"Are you mad at me?" she asked almost inaudibly.

I shook my head. "No." I took out a red marker. "We're going to try something different," I added with an encouraging smile. "Let me see your arm." 

She held out her arm slowly. Careful of the bandaged wounds, on the untouched skin, I drew a butterfly with the red marker. Underneath the butterfly I printed her name. "Don't cut. You hurt yourself every time you do." I found another space on her arm, taking out the blue marker and drawing another butterfly, this time with my name under it. "Everytime you resort to self-harm, you hurt me too."

"Sorry..." she said quietly.

"Don't be," I replied, taking out a purple marker and drawing another one. " 'Asoese'," I said aloud, writing the Pacific Islander name. "Tomorrow is 'a different day'. We'll get you through this." I replace the purple with an orange marker. " 'Bojana'," I continued, drawing the new butterfly with the Slavonic name. "The 'battle' for recovery isn't easy, but I know you can do it." 

I took up her other arm, finding another open spot to draw. Scribbling a different butterfly on her arm, I remarked with a smile. " 'Nadeah' is Russian for 'hope'. You need to hang on to the hope that things will get better." Taking the pink marker, I continued, " 'Brigitte' is both a German and French name. I know you've never really looked at yourself as being a strong person, but I've seen you when you put your mind to something. You need to use that 'strength' for yourself. You can do this, you know. I believe in you."

She sniffled slightly, still not believing my words. "You're wrong. I--"

I cut her off, not wanting her to put herself down any more. I took out a light blue coloured marker. " 'Suchin'. It's Thai for 'beautiful thought'. Whenever you have these negative thoughts, I want you to replace it with a good thought, ok? Whenever you look in the mirror and you say you're not beautiful, think again." Using a light purple, I continued drawing. " 'Sooyun'. It's Korean for 'perfect lotus blossom'. Every blossom looks different from the rest, but each one is beautiful in its own right." 

Picking up a dark blue, I continued drawing. " 'Nayanapriti' is Punjabi, meaning 'giving joy to the eye' or 'a joy to look at'. Whether you realize it or not, you are beautiful on both the inside and the outside. Don't you dare tell yourself otherwise, do you hear me?" 

I snatched the green marker. " 'Eirianedd' is a Welsh name that means 'bright and splendid'. When you smile or laugh, your eyes light up with a beautiful brightness. It's truly beautiful. Someday, I want your future to be as bright and splendid as those eyes of yours." 

I put down her arm. "May I see your legs?" I asked, knowing that she  cut there before too. She stretched out her legs. She was wearing shorts and I could still see the marks where she had cut the previous time. It broke my heart to still see the results of the last time she resorted to self-harm. I took a small breath, using the red marker. "Speaking of smiling," I gave her a small smile. "You have a really nice smile." Finishing up the little red butterfly, I added, " 'Eréndira is Spanish, meaning 'the one who smiles'. I want you to be able to have a happy life. I hate to see you cry. Someday, I want you to be able to look back on your life with a smile. It's not always easy, but we have to get through these bad times in order to get to the good. Things will change for the better. You just have to be strong."

Grabbing the orange again, I drew another butterfly. " 'Grietje'. Frisian. It means 'pearl'. You are precious to me like a fine pearl."

I sketched another butterfly on her leg, this time in blue. " 'Gersemi' is Norse. It means 'gem, jewel, or treasure'. You are both beautiful and priceless, like a valuable gem to me. You are worth a lot to me, and I'm so thankful to have you in my life."

The purple marker flew to my hand again. " 'Fiedhelm' is Gaelic. It means 'ever good'. Even though you don't see the good in you, I see it every day in the way you treat others. Never once thinking about yourself when you see others in need, you are truly 'good'."

Using the pink again, I contiued to draw on her leg. " 'Thuy' is Vietnamese. You are both a loyal and trusted friend to me. Thank you."

Moving on to the other leg, I drew some more, adding a light green butterfly. " 'Adimu' is Swahili, meaning that are 'unique and rare'. I love all the qualities about you that make you different from everyone else."

I drew a gray butterfly. " 'Abhayaa'. It's Sanskrit. 'Without fear'. It's not easy to be fearless, and I don't expect you to be. However, we are going to have to face this problem head on, do you think you can try to be brave and have courage?" I looked at her, expecting an answer.

I saw that behind her eyes, laid a glint of growing interest, almost determination.

"I can try," she answered quietly.

I nodded, moving away from her legs. Grasping her left hand, I drew in purple marker on the back of it. " 'Aisha' is Arabic, and it means 'unfading' or 'she who lives'. You have a beautiful life ahead of you. Don't give up."

With the same marker, I drew on the back of her right hand. " 'Sevim' is a Turkish name for 'loveable'. I love you. I don't want you to hurt yourself any more."

I opened up her palm and drew another butterfly. " 'Yaretzi'. Aztec. It means 'you will always be loved'." I kissed her palm gently. "Please, don't hurt yourself any more."

I took her other palm, scribbling another butterfly on the inside. " 'Nayeli'. Native American. 'I love you'." I kissed her palm, fighting back the tears in my eyes that threatened to fall. 

I put away the marker and then adjusted my shirt so that she could see the butterfly that was already imprinted above my heart. 

She read her name and then looked at the me questioningly. "What does that mean underneath my name?"

"It's Japanese," I replied. "It means 'my butterfly'." I let go of my shirt. "I promise to protect you and help you through this whole recovery. I don't want you to hurt yourself or be in pain any more." I wrapped my arms around her, holding her in an embrace. "I love you, my butterfly."