I didn't want to talk to her. I was so uncomfortable to. She didn't believe me when I said it was a papercut. It didn't even look like one. There's now at least 10 of them, when she saw there was 8. She took me to my room and sat down on my chair, she wouldn't leave until I told her. She was messing with me. She knew, but she still sat there and waited like she was owed an explanation. She just stared. And stared. I told her was wasn't comfortable to. She asked why, she said she was my own mother, I should be able to tell her anything. I tried to lie, but no good excuses came to mind, she just stared as I started to cry and cry. She even asked me why I was crying, she said she didn't do anything so there was no reason to cry, she forced it out of me. She wants me to go to therapy now but I don't want to, they get payed to tell you there's something wrong with you. Even when I told her about my panic attacks at school she asked if I actually was having a panic attack since a colleague of hers had one and that lasted and hour, and since mine don't last that long she didn't believe me. I swear, I wasn't comfortable telling her. I really didn't want to. It's now 4am and I'm still crying.