I started at 7, both my parents self injured and attempted suicide at some point in their lives. I remember scratching myself with scissors when I was 7, punching my head, biting myself, clawing at my flesh and punching walls. It got more severe through the years, with the scissors being replaced with blades and then knives. Self injury turned into suicide attempts.
For a week or two, I thought I'd died and gone to hell, complete with zombies and hearing the voices of the Damned, screaming for hours. That was during one of my worse episodes. There were these... skinless fleshy beings, that pounded on the windows and such, and I pretty much just cried all day. That was when they tried to wean me off of my medications.