My friend picked up a weird habit.

"You shouldn't be doing that."

She ignored me, as per usually, and just continued picking at the bottom of her foot. I was used to this with Katie; lately she could never seem to keep her hands still. She was always peeling at her skin, taking off little flakes.

"Fine." Katie let go of her foot, and without hesitation, put her thumb in her mouth and gnawed at it. I sighed; there was really nothing I could do that would stop her. I let it go, as per usual.

At that point, it was more out of annoyance than anything. Having someone peeling off or biting her own skin is pretty disgusting, and it's never nice to have someone focused on something else when you're talking to them. But at that point, it was a habit, a nervous tic - nothing more.

It was only when we went to our monthly movie night that I realized how much it had encompassed her.

Katie was usually a commentator at films, whispering interjections and thoughts to whatever unfortunate friend was sitting next to her. This time, however, she didn't say a thing. It wasn't until the lights lifted and people came to sweep away the popcorn that I noticed the small pile on the floor. It was made up of pale greyish strips that appeared textured and frayed. It took me a few seconds to realize what they were - pieces of Katie's heel.

I made her show me her foot, but she wasn't bleeding. It was just raw skin, red and sensitive. She hobbled a bit walking back to the car, but insisted that she was fine.

It was then that I became concerned. I asked her what was wrong, but she insisted she was fine, it was just a bad habit. I've known Katie for years; I knew she was lying.

The next time I came over, I decided to find out for myself. When she went to the bathroom, I searched through her drawers, and came across a journal. This was odd, seeing as Katie had told me multiple times that she though diaries were stupid. Alongside it were a stainless steel ruler, a set of nail clippers, and scissors.

I snuck the journal home that night and made notes of what I found inside, knowing I'd have to return it ASAP. What Katie had written was chilling:

I don't know what I did to deserve this, all I ever wanted was a normal life, he tells me I'm ugly and horrific and should be flattered that anyone is doing this to me

Maybe what he says is true maybe this is due punishment because I'm horrific horrific horrific

He is corrupting me everything he does makes me uglier I've been soiled im ruined soiled a monster im a petalless flower

The rest was incredibly graphic, so I didn't read much more. I knew I had to call her, hoping I could save her, get her out of this abuse.

I was naïve.

When I asked Katie about it, it was almost as if I was talking to another person. She was blunt, cruel, and seething with rage. She shrieked at me for stealing her journal, wailed about how unfair and untrustworthy I am. I couldn't get a word in, and she ended up hanging up on me, hyperventilating. I didn't see or hear from her until a week after that.

Last night, I was browsing Reddit as per usual, when someone knocked at the door. I opened up to see someone in a hoodie and sweatpants. Now, it's hot this time of year in Ottawa, even in the nighttime. I was going to ask them to leave when the person said my name.

Her voice was Katie's.

I let her in, but before I could make any apologies or ask if she was okay, she pulled off her hoodie.

Underneath, I saw her mangled arms, skin fraying off everywhere, little tufts of it sticking up together, blood beading and dripping underneath them.

Her torso was covered in small markings where the skin had been pulled away with some sort of tool, revealing thin skin and some fat underneath.

She rolled up her sweatpants to reveal much of the same; skin so pulled from its root that you could stick your thumb in it, raw red skin, blood from where the tears went too deep.

Some of her fingernails had fallen off, due to the surrounding skin being all but absent. Little nicks had been peeled down to her palms.

The most terrifying was her face, pocked in scars, part of her lip literally torn away, revealing the tooth underneath.

If her appearance weren't enough to make me sick, Katie's words did the trick.

"I look just like how I feel... maybe he won't come after me anymore now that I'm less pretty."