Cutter

I don't understand what I did wrong, a month ago I was an ordinary guy with an ordinary group of friends and I was just starting to get serious with a girl I was starting to fall pretty hard for. Now I’m a social pariah, ostracized by my so called friends and regarded as the lowest from of scum. It’s so unfair. 

I’ve had death threats and there’s a website dedicated to hating me. But I suppose I should explain how this all happened. 

I met Emily a few months ago, she had a lot of qualities that I go for, long dark hair, pale skin, kind of shy, and I love these qualities in a girl. I asked her out, we went on a few dates, she introduced me to her friends and they soon became my friends as well. We were one of those couples that did everything together. 

Her friends really warmed to me, and confided that I was the best thing to ever happen to her. Her best friend, Monica, confided in me that Emily had dated some really awful guys that caused her serious issues. I asked Monica what kind of issues and Monica simply said it was not her place to say, but I think I already knew. 

Emily had one quirk I picked up on early in our relationship, she insisted upon always wearing long sleeves, even on the hottest days imaginable. The first time I saw her without her arms covered was when we first made love. When she took her shirt off I saw faded traces of scars on her arms and I realized straight away that she had been a cutter, and quite an extensive one at that. From the way she always kept them covered and from how faded they were, I surmised that she was not doing it anymore and was ashamed/embarrassed of the having done I don't understand it at all.  

There was so much I wanted to say, there was stuff I think she needed to know, plus seeing this girl who I was so fond of dealing with shame and embarrassment bothered me to no end. But I figured that it was not my place to say anything about the scars or the cutting unless she brought it up first. So our relationship progressed with nothing said of the matter until one day when she finally gave me the excuse to bring it up. 

It was a hot afternoon and we had just arrived at her place after I picked her up from work to take her home. “Ugh it’s so damned hot” she said as she turned the air conditioner on. ‘Now, is the time’ I thought to myself. “You know” I said “You could just wear something with short sleeves.”  

Her face flushed and she said nothing, so I continued “Em, I’ve long since noticed the scars and how you always keep them covered, it’s clear from the way you behave that you are ashamed of them, but I don’t understand why”. She opened up a little, explained how she had started self-harming due to dating a guy who had hit her and played mind games, telling her she was worthless and ugly, constantly cheating on her and not even bothering to keep it secret. He had abused her and threatened to kill her and it was just an awful period in her life that she wished to forget. 

“Ok, Em, I get that the guy you were dating was a piece of crap, but you yourself just said, he’s been out of your life for years now, I don’t understand why you feel so ashamed of the scars themselves.” “I don’t understand why you go to such lengths to stop people from seeing them?” She snorted “You don’t understand? You don’t understand that I feel ashamed of having cut myself at all, that I feel like the scars make me look like an unstable nutcase or a teenager desperate for attention?”  

She went on to explain that she felt like if people saw the scars they would treat her differently, she would not be Emily the normal human being or Emily the professional with a career, but she would be Emily, that crazy damaged girl, Emily the girl you would not want to date because she obviously has baggage, Emily the girl to keep at arm’s length. 

She went on to explain that she had already experienced being treated differently by her friends after they found out, she pointed out how, in her mind at least, they regarded her with pity or as a charity case rather than an equal like they used to. “I know they mean well.”  She said, “They don’t realize that they are treating me differently, they are being helpful and supportive in the best ways they know how. But it still kills me inside” 

I had listened to all she said and now I knew her thought process and the reasoning behind her feeling. I could remain silent no longer. I had to tell her how I felt. “Emily, this is great” I said. “You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this. It must be fate” she was confused, so I explained. “I find cutting scars and cutting in general to be a beautiful thing.” She went very silent so I pressed on. “When I was a teenager and I first heard about cutting I was intrigued, I thought it was sexy, I read forum posts from people online describing how it made them feel high, gave them a sense of release and all that jazz.” “I tried it myself a few times when I was younger but I never got the sense of release or the high I had read so much about, it was just a disappointing waste of time.” 

“But when I saw your scars it turned me on like nothing else has turned me on in my life” I continued “that’s when I realized, it didn’t work for me because I had no one to do it with. I needed to turn cutting into a romantic thing, a thing we can do together when we have sex.” 

Emily was repulsed, she asked me if I was joking, of course I was not! I went on to outline some ideas I had been tossing over for the past few weeks. “You can cut yourself while I watch and jerk off” “I can cut your arm while you’re giving me a blowjob, or you can cut my arm when I’m giving you oral” I outlined all sorts of scenarios. She could cut me, I could cut her, she could cut herself while I watched, I could cut myself while she watched, I went on and on. 

After I had finished speaking, she exploded, she screamed at me that I was a sick disgusting creep. She told me she had worked so hard to stop and was deeply ashamed of having cut at all, and that me trying to get her back into it and fetishize it like it was some sort of romantic thing was the worst betrayal she could imagine.  

We had our first fight of our relationship, but hey all couples fight, and I still don’t understand how she could say I was a creep. Afterall, I was not forcing her to do anything, I merely suggested it as an idea, an activity that we could do together, I suggested it because it tuned me on immensely, and when you are in a relationship, aren’t you supposed to consider you partners sexual desires and turn ons? 

Finally she stormed into the kitchen, she came back holding a large knife. “Is this sexy?” she asked, lifting her skirt and slashing the knife across her thighs. “Here, is this something you find attractive?” she asked, carving a deep gash across her wrist. “Yes!” I exclaimed clutching my already rock hard c**k “Come on Em, let me show you what real sex is supposed to be like” I grabbed her hand and took her into the bedroom, I took my shirt off and began licking the blood of off her thighs. I took the knife from her and slashed an enormous cut across my chest and stomach area. I pushed her face towards the cut and she slowly started suckling at the blood. I’m not sure how long our lovemaking went on, but it was intense. She cut herself, mostly on the arms and thighs, I licked at the blood and pleasured her orally. I cut myself on the arms chest and in between the thigh and groin area, she licked at the blood a little, gave me a blowjob and mostly lay there while I ploughed her hard. 

Now I’m gonna admit, she really didn’t seem that into it. She basically just ‘phoned it in’ or whatever the saying is, only cutting or doing anything when I asked her to. I didn’t give much thought to this, I figured she was just shocked at finding someone who was into this kind of thing and I expected that once we had done this a few times and trained each other, that this kind of sex would be a constant thing that we both enjoyed. 

Anyway, not much was really said later that night or the next morning, although we both wound up with lots of bandages and the sheets looked like somebody had been murdered on them. I went to work and when the day was over, I texted her to see if I could come over and got no response. In fact she gave me no response for the next few days. I figured she was just tired from work and was perhaps still thinking about everything I has said to her. 

It was Saturday when I got the call; Emily was dead. 

Her friend Monica called me sounding hysterical, she alternated between crying and screaming at me. She was at Emily’s apartment with the cops when the phone call was made, she handed the phone to one of the cops who explained that Emily’s friends were concerned for her because she was not answering any calls or texts and had stopped showing up at work. So they called the police to conduct a welfare check. Upon arrival the police found Emily’s body in the bathtub with her wrists and thighs slashed wide open, a suicide. 

Emily had also written a blog post before she had done the deed, a blog post describing, what in my view, was a very distorted and untrue version of the night we had the fight and the ‘knife play’ sex. 

Essentially, she had written that I had broken her heart and destroyed her because I ‘seemed so nice and genuine’ and she had thought I ‘was truly the guy who loved her and cared for her and would keep her safe’ only to reveal that I was ‘nothing but a disturbed individual who saw her serious problems and deepest issues as nothing but a fetish for me to use and abuse for my sick fantasies’ and that I ‘truly cared nothing for her or her wellbeing and was only interested in having a living sex toy to use and abuse’ these are all her words copy and pasted form the blog. 

She wrote about how I had told her I wanted her to keep cutting, and incorporate it into sex. Now yes, that was true, but she made it sound like I had forced her against her will. She made the sex we had sound more like rape! Like I had forced her down on the bed and terrorized her. It was all lies and half-truths! What we did was consensual, and yeah, with hindsight maybe she hadn’t seemed 100% in to it, but she never once said no or asked me to stop! 

Anyway like I said at the beginning, life is s**t now. Her friends now hate me and I can’t leave home for fear they will seriously f**k me up, one has started a website naming me and slandering me, making me sound like a demented rapist. I was arrested because I encouraged her to self-harm, which is technically a crime. My lawyer does not think I will suffer serious consequences, but just having it hanging over my head and not knowing what will happen is stressing me out. I no longer have a job and I had to move back in with my parents, who I can tell are disgusted with me because of all the crap being said and accusations levelled against me. 

I just don’t understand why everyone hates me, I told them it was consensual sex, and I told them I never forced her to cut, only encouraged her to. But they regard me as sick and disturbed.  

But, I can say that I have learnt some valuable lessons throughout all this, lessons that will improve me as a human being. The first lesson is; never talk to the police without a lawyer and never admit anything to anybody. The second lesson is; the next time I have a girlfriend, I will wait until we have been dating longer and I know her state of mind a bit better before I try to incorporate knives, cutting and blood into our sexual/romantic life. 

Author's Note

I would like opinions

Reviews

[Rachid Amrani]

An amazing story filled with events and action that that captivated my attention to the end. It reveals you have a great deal of story telling skills. I hope it’s all fiction and in fact you didn’t have to go through what the protagonist had to go through in the game of love and courtship. A job well done!
Rachid