Violet Wilson didn't set out to write a trilogy; in her defense, they weren't even trendy when she started this memoir. This final volume includes an almost-normal romantic relationship, an aborted confrontation with her mother and brother, and the major depressive episode that led to - in a typically perverse twist - the end of cutting and the beginning of something like sanity. This isn't the end of Violet's story, but 12 years later, it might be safe to say that it's the end of the slices.