She looks at her arms, stomach, and thighs. She hates what she sees, what she done to herself at the moment of weakness. They get lighter as days go by but you can see them all the same. The lines, perfect in a row, precisely the way she needed it to be. Even in her moment of weakness her OCD is still there.
She hides them with long sleeves so that no one can see her weakness, so that no one can judge her. People like to wait and see for someone to break, to use that against them. You never let people see your weakness or in her case, her scars.