...lost for words

What on earth to say when my friend's four year old looks at my arm and says "Ouch"?
I hadn't seen my friend for months. After said four year old asked her where I had gone, if they would ever see me again, I decided it was time to make the effort and visit. Had a lovely time, played, was given medals for sitting on the bed and presented with drawings with hearts and flowers on. We had cake and candles just because we could.
At bedtime, I was honoured to be asked to read the story. It was lovely. Lovely remembering that I used to feel comfortable around children, that I used to have a job working with them, lovely to remember why that was, that I enjoy their company. Lovely until almost the end of the story, when little four began studying and stroking my wrist. "What's that?" "Does it hurt?" "How that happened?" I hid my arm, she wanted to check it, looking into my eyes. "It's ok isn't it?"
I feel despicable. I reassured and brushed off her gorgeous innocent concern. It's ok, but really, no, it's not ok. I hope that you never have to see that again, that you never feel the need to do that to yourself. I am so sorry. Because to me it seems so much better and healed and clean I had forgotten to hide. I will never forget again. So so sorry.