(as a kid)
Terrified that someone would figure out what I did.
Managed a perfectly executed story and excuse. Even got past the ER doc stitching me up.

A few years later a relative, also a minor, attempted and went to inpatient. She hated it, resented it.

When she left she still hated it.
But I'll tell you what; before she went, she'd get steamrolled by anyone and everyone in her family. Afterwards, she was tougher than steel. Mean as can be; but she owned her life. The rest of her family still don't get it; but I do.

From that point on, I very much regretted my successful story telling.... but it was much too late.