Self-harm

Self-harm is part of the novel’s depiction of Shelby Anderson Barnum’s response to trauma: not an isolated incident, but one element in a broader pattern of distress that also includes anxiety, disordered eating, and cannabis use. The narrative presents the behavior through both its physical consequences and the difficulty Shelby has trusting others enough to accept help.

Context and Depiction

The book flags a chapter for its mention of self-harm and illicit substance use, marking the material as sensitive rather than glamorizing it. Elsewhere, Shelby tells a friend that an unspecified event has affected her in several ways, including self-harm, an eating disorder, and cannabis consumption. She has previously seen a psychologist in Los Angeles and is now in follow-up care with that clinician’s colleague. Her account situates self-harm within the continuing effects of trauma, not as a self-contained problem with a single cause or cure.

One episode makes that connection especially stark. Alone in her room, Shelby becomes overwhelmed by anxiety, panic, loneliness, and guilt. She finds the Zippo lighter in an open pocket of her bag, though she does not remember opening it, and brings its flame to the skin of her left forearm. The narration dwells on the slow approach and the change from initially bearable warmth to intolerable pain. As her distress deepens, she becomes emotionally numb and loses consciousness. The scene links the act to isolation and a sense of worthlessness, while showing how the attempt to manage overwhelming feelings leaves her physically injured and less able to respond to the people around her.

Discovery, Care, and the Body

The episode ends not with a deliberate request for help but with Dorcas finding Shelby unresponsive. Dorcas pulls the hot Zippo away, crouches before her, and tries to rouse her by shaking her shoulders; Shelby’s vacant gaze does not answer. When Shelby faints, Dorcas runs out to find assistance and collides with Namjoon. He tells Dorcas to lay Shelby on her bed, stay beside her, cool her burning forehead with a damp towel, and fetch a first-aid kit. Only then does he see the severity of the burn on her skin. The practical instructions turn a private crisis into an urgent scene of care, while the injury makes visible what Shelby’s isolation had kept hidden.

The novel also shows why assistance cannot be reduced to simply reaching for Shelby. During a panic attack in class, Cassiopée follows her to an isolated spot; when she puts her hands on Shelby’s shoulders, Shelby recoils and cries out in pain. Cassiopée remains calm and tries to approach, but Shelby stays curled up, clearly refusing touch. The scene connects her bodily distress to a need for control over contact: concern from another person does not automatically make touch feel safe. That tension matters in the self-harm episode too, where Dorcas’s effort to bring Shelby back to awareness meets a state she cannot immediately penetrate.

Other encounters offer a quieter form of presence. At the underground boxing venue, Jungkook finds Shelby trembling and crying in the shower. Unsure what to do, he turns off the water, crouches beside her, and waits without demanding an explanation until she calms. Later, when she is visibly upset, he kneels and rests a hand on her knees; Shelby is seeking comfort, and the contact does not leave her indifferent. These moments do not erase the self-harm or establish a cure. Instead, the contrast between unwanted touch during panic and sought comfort in a later encounter shows how safety depends on Shelby’s condition and willingness, not on touch alone.

The novel makes that distinction especially clear when Shelby returns to the boxing venue and hits the heavy bag without gloves. Her hands are already bandaged and hurting, but she describes that pain as different from the pain of the blade, and experiences the exertion as a release. The contrast does not present physical pain as a simple remedy: it places one bodily experience beside another while preserving the wider pattern of distress. Her later account to a friend still includes self-harm alongside disordered eating and cannabis use, even as she remains in psychological care. Recovery, as the ending frames it, is gradual and individual; Shelby and Jungkook move forward in their own ways and together, rather than leaving their demons behind through one decisive intervention.

Disclosure, Privacy, and an Uneven Recovery

Self-harm is also framed through what Shelby can and cannot yet disclose. When her clinician observes that she has struggled to integrate and open up to people since an unspecified event, Shelby says she does not want to discuss it immediately. The clinician accepts that boundary, offers her time, and assures her that what she shares will remain private. The exchange places choice and confidentiality alongside treatment: help is available, but Shelby is not pressed to recount what she is not ready to say.

Later, Shelby tells Dorcas that the effects of the event include self-harm, disordered eating, and cannabis use. Dorcas listens with visible fear, anger, and sadness, then gently takes Shelby’s hands. She promises to stay by her side despite their relatively recent friendship, distinguishing herself from Madison while giving Shelby time. The conversation does not make the behaviors disappear; it gives Shelby a way to name them to someone who responds with concern rather than blame.

The closing reflection resists treating recovery as a single turning point. Learning to live with oneself and love another person is described as uncertain work that may take months or years, with room to choose whether to proceed alone or with company and to move at one’s own pace. Shelby and Jungkook ultimately manage, separately and together, to move forward while their demons have not simply vanished. In that frame, the self-harm belongs to a continuing history of pain, while recovery means gaining ways to keep going rather than being declared suddenly cured.

Narrative Significance and Unresolved Trauma

The account separates the visible act from the event behind it: Shelby Anderson Barnum’s therapist identifies a past event only in general terms, and Shelby declines to discuss it before she is ready. The reader therefore encounters the consequences before receiving a full account of their cause. Self-harm becomes one of the ways the narrative makes otherwise withheld distress legible, while the gap in disclosure remains part of the story rather than a mystery this episode resolves.

The scene’s movement from panic to numbness and unconsciousness gives that gap a bodily form, but the book does not present injury as proof that Shelby’s suffering is understood or ended. Its later emphasis on a recovery that can take months or years preserves the difference between being found, being supported, and being healed. By placing self-harm within an ongoing process of disclosure and care, the novel treats it as a serious sign of distress without making it Shelby’s whole identity or offering a single moment as a cure.