Cutter - 1. Chapter 1

Tom held the point of the very sharp butcher knife against the smooth skin of his right cheek. Blood trickled down from two previous cuts on his arm to the elbow where it dripped occasionally onto the tiled floor. He’d never cut his face before, preferring to keep his need hidden from unwanted eyes, but Brent was making his life difficult and cutting his face would take away the cuteness that attracted the athlete.

"Hey, Tommy, you know what you are?" Brent asked the other day.

"Tom, my name is Tom. You've known that since we first met each other in second grade. It says it right on my birth certificate. Tom, not Tommy. Why can't you get it through your thick skull that I don't like to be called Tommy."

"Come on, Tom, you know I was just kidding, but you know what? I've got to tell you something and I don't want you spreading this around school, but I think you're kind of cute."

"What?"

"Cute, I think you're cute, in a cuddly sort of way," Brent said with a straight face, but his eyes were saying something that made Tom feel uneasy. Why he did not know. "I just wanted you to know, so don't be spreading it around that I'm gay or anything weird like that."

"You're not gay. You're a jock. Jocks aren't gay. That's a known fact. It's a rule or something, isn't it? All that locker room stuff, right? Coaches don't want gay boys messing with the other boys. You're not gay, right?"

"I'm not gay," Brent said with a straight face, "but I still think you're cute."

He pushed on the blade a little more, making more of an indentation in his skin, but still not breaking through. Just a quick slice down his cheek that was all that was needed. Just a quick slice. Just push the point in and pull the blade down to his jaw.

"Tom! What are you doing in there?" his mother's voice screamed through the locked door. "You better not be doing what I think you're doing. You know what Doctor Arnold said. He's counting on you to be more responsible. I'm getting your father."

Tom watched a tear dribble down his cheek. Caught, again. She and his dad had been catching him a lot recently now that he was seeing Doctor Arnold, who also insisted his parents join them so they could have family counseling sessions, too. But, Doctor Arnold didn't say anything about him being cute. Brent said that.

"He's gay," Curt said. "At least that's what everybody on the team thinks, but he catches passes so nobody says anything, not even the coaches. I'm sure they suspect it, too, but what can anyone say?"

"Do you think he's coming on to me? You know, because I'm about as athletic as a shrub."

"I don't know, but I'd be suspicious if some guy came up to me and said I was cute in a cuddly sort of way. If that isn't gay, I don't know what is. You're not gay too, are you?"

"No!"

"Well, then, you don't have anything to worry about. It's not like he's going to try anything because I don't think Brent is the kind of boy who'd be forceful. I do know for a fact he hasn't done anything except neck with Chrissy. At least that's what my sister says. So can you help me with calculus this weekend? We got that test on Monday and I'm not sure I'll do very well."

"Sure, I'll help you. Do you want me to bring my sleeping bag?"

"Well, you're not sleeping in my bed even though there is room enough for two. I think my dad would shit his pants if he saw me sleeping with another boy. Come on, I'll drive you home. We can stop at the Dairy Bar and I'll buy you a soda."

Curt had been nice about the whole thing and helpful, too. At least now Tom knew where he probably stood in Brent's eyes. A scar down his cheek would certainly do a lot toward obliterating the cuteness Brent saw in him. At least, he hoped it would, but all that was not going to be possible because his resolve was slipping away.

"Tom, I want you to drop the knife, now!" his father yelled through the locked door as Tom heard the screwdriver in the lock.

As Doctor Arnold would have wanted, Tom immediately dropped the knife. Then glanced down to be certain it hadn't embedded itself in one of his feet. He'd cut his thigh a couple times, but not his feet. For some reason he didn't understand, his feet were safe from the blade.

He looked back in the mirror and saw a small bead of blood where the point of the knife had pricked his skin. He smiled. He'd do it next time. He could do it next time because Brent had met him outside the school, again. Offering him a ride home this time.

"You haven't told anyone I think you're cute, have you?" Brent asked as Tom fastened his seat belt.

"You're gay," Tom said. "At least that's what Curt thinks, but he said no one else on the team cares because you are good on the field."

"Fuck."

"Don't worry about it because you're not the one who's cute. We're still friends, okay? I don't care if you're gay or not, but I want you to stop thinking I'm cute. I am not cute. I'm ugly. I do not have one redeeming feature on my face that anyone would think was cute."

"I still think you're cute," Brent said as he started up the car. They didn't say anything until Brent pulled into Tom's driveway.

"Are you cool with the test Monday? Curt and I are getting together tomorrow to study, if you want to come over. I think it'd be okay with Curt. You don't think he's cute, too, do you?"

"You're cute, not Curt. I'm good with the test. Me and Chrissy are getting together tomorrow afternoon. See you around, Tom."

"Yeah, see ya."

And, that was that.

Only it wasn't. The bead of blood was now a little trickle that was almost down to his jaw. His arm was hurting where he'd sliced it earlier. How could Brent think he was cute?

"Oh my god, Tom, not your face," his father said as he came into the bathroom. "Okay, you know the procedure. Get a towel and wrap it around your arm. Let's get you to the hospital. Your mother said you were going over to Curt's tomorrow to study. Do you think that's a good idea?"

"They don't have any knives I can use," Tom said, meaning every word he said. He'd be safe at Curt's house.

"Do you know what brought this on?"

"Yeah."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Okay, son, but you have to stop the self-harming."

"Yeah, that's what Doctor Arnold said."

He sat in the backseat of his dad's car. His arm was hurting a lot, now. His parents were consciously chattering away at something other than the fact their only son was a cutter, which is what Doctor Arnold told them to do. Curt was his best friend and said Brent was gay. Brent still thought he was cute. Maybe next time he'd actually do his face, but that would mean showing everyone that he was a cutter, something he was loathed to do. Slicing your skin with a knife was a personal thing.