Angela Bolin was lying on her bathroom floor in a T-shirt and panties when she woke up in a pool of blood. Paramedics hovered over her. Her mother, father and sister stood there, sobbing. She didn’t know what was happening, but when she looked down at her inner thighs, she saw they were covered in razor-thin slices. There were 45 cuts on one thigh, 46 on the other. The air reeked of bandages and antiseptic cream. It took a second for it to register. Bolin looked around, dazed, and spotted the used razor next to the sink. Then she remembered.
