Category: Non-Erotic Stories

A Cut below the Rest

by spitzharder©

The pain really wasn't too bad, the new cuts on her arm blended into the countless others she had slashed across both inner forearms over the years. The tension eased, frustrations that goaded her to self harm faded with the stinging slashes which focussed her attention away from the worries about her sexuality. A girl, yes but with bound breasts and short hair she looked quite boyish and was already known by her friends as Dan. With her given the name of Diane she had enjoyed life with an unremarkable childhood, it wasn't until she went to college that she saw Petra, the most wonderful, most enviable girl.

Petra was everything she was not, pretty and brainy. Everyone liked her, all the girls wanted to be her and all the boys wanted to be with her. No one noticed Diane even when she made the effort to talk to someone, whereas Petra, was the centre of attention. People who ought to know better seemed to think that those who self harm are simply seeking attention. No, usually they cover their mutilation, do not want to talk about it or even acknowledge it.

Dan stood naked and looked at his own useless body, the breasts were neither big nor small, although one was higher than the other, hips were slim, not rounded or feminine at all. With big feet and crooked teeth, he looked gawky and slumped down, miserable, once more, thinking of Petra. She was probably miss Perfect, personality enough for six people, even her teeth were like a commercial for toothpaste.

One more cut then, he drew the razor blade across the skin, blood followed like a faithful dog in the wake of the steel. Pain blotted out all previous thoughts and he relaxed again, was this all his body wanted from him? Make him feel worthless, then taunt once more to cut, hoping that the pain made him feel human again? The blood trickled down to his hand, he stared at the red trail, turning his arm, preventing the blood from dripping to the floor. Somehow the blood made him seem real, after all he must be alive to bleed, tentatively he licked the blood along the cut, yes it was real, nothing else tastes quite like it. The bathroom was his sanctuary, the only place he could violate his body.

Even though he was looked like a boy, he didn't want a dick, binding the breasts allowed him to look like the kind of person he wanted to be, because lately, was radically different and got noticed. The other day Petra looked his way, it looked as if she might speak but that scraggy Charlie said something to her and she thumped him, the moment gone forever. Dan questioned everything all the time, In what way would I want to be with her? Dan was confused, his sexuality was a mystery to him, he liked some boys and lots of girls, was he bisexual? There was a club at college that addressed gender dysphoria, allowing students to talk about their issues.

Dan attended a couple of times and was now dressing totally as a boy, it was summer and everyone it seemed was in shirt and shorts, only a careful eye would notice Dan's shorts had a right hand fly but he knew he had bought them in the men's department. Hair now shorter than ever, he wondered about taking testosterone to stimulate hair growth on his chin, the light fluff under his nose was what most girls would wax away. It was then that Petra actually spoke to him, it was only 'Hello, how are you' but it determined which gender he wanted to be, at least for now.

The club offered some advice against self harming, Dan sat on the edge of the bath, carefully covering an elastic band with a red felt tip pen. Stretched over his arm, he placed the band over a long healed, scar, pulling it up high, letting it go, it slapped his arm, leaving a livid red mark. Not quite blood but the link was there, the pain real and a resultant red line. He concentrated on the smile Petra had given him, how she had looked as she enquired after him. Dan knew that Petra could be his salvation, she alone could save him from misery and possibly even save his life if the cutting grew worse. How would he approach her? What could she possibly see in him?

He knew she was driven to college by her mother, the big car was usually there as he arrived by bus, the fact it was still at the kerb gave him an idea. He asked his father to show him how to change a wheel, in case they ever got a flat tyre. Dad was always pleased to interact with his children and Diane was so awkward to be around these days, the way she dressed and all. He took the youngster out to the garage and demonstrated how to undo the wheel nuts, jack the car, remove the nuts and wheel, them reverse the procedure with an inflated tyre. Dan practised and felt he could do it blindfolded, then Dad dropped the bombshell, most cars these days have a canister of sealant and an electric pump.

Dan's bus arrived early, the traffic had been light. Dan alighted and made his way to the notice boards to one side of the drop off point, Petra's mother pulled up at the kerb. Dan bent to unscrew the tyre valve cap and jammed a twig into the valve, the noise seemed so loud, like a locomotive venting high pressure steam. He could hear the car radio but surely they could hear the escaping air? He was crouched like some criminal, looking all around, fearful he might be seen. Petra's door opened, he removed the twig and quickly screwed on the cap, the tyre looked pretty flat. Straightening, he walked with a casual air to see Petra about to get out of the car, one hand on the door and a seat that was quite low. He held out a hand and lightly grasped her free arm to help her out, keeping his eyes on her face, not daring a glance at her legs, where her skirt had ridden up.

"Thanks," was all she said but it meant the world to him, this moment would be one to think upon when hurting himself with the elastic band. Petra shut the door and both turned to walk into school when the sound of her mother pulling away from the kerb announced a flat tyre. Dan stepped to the car window and offered to fix the flat, hoping against hope this model didn't have a can of sealant. Mother popped the trunk and Dan busied himself with tools and wheel, dropping the wheel a few inches to check it was fully inflated as his Dad had taught him. He soon set about with spanners and jack, feeling like some mechanic rushing to fix a race car. Petra stood and thanked him for his efforts, he beamed up at her, assuring her it was nothing, glad to be of help.

They walked into college together, Dan felt ten feet high, this euphoria was so, so, much better than when he cut himself. Perhaps that could be a thing of the past now he had Petra as a friend. He concentrated on her smile and her eyes which seemed to bestow a kind of personal closeness even in the midst of lots of students. Lots of people said 'Hello' to her and, by implication, to him. For the first time Dan felt as though he was real, he purposely used a low voice to reply in the same offhand way Petra was doing, even though he could kiss those who had acknowledged his presence.

This was the heady world he had only seen from the sidelines, he purposely looked for others who he knew would only glance shyly in their direction from the periphery, graciously saying 'how are you doing'? Did his mouth drop open like theirs when Petra had first spoken to him? He felt somehow beneficent and knew some people were inherently good when they openly shared that kind of feeling with others. All too soon they reached their lecture hall, Petra sitting amongst her clique, Dan sitting as he usually did, apart.

Dan quickly rushed through the throng as they all left for the day, managing to get near to Petra as she made her way to the drop off point, casually strolling towards her mother's car just as she neared it. Her mother powered down the window as he approached, thanking him for his earlier efforts and inviting him to dinner the next day. He quickly stole a glance at Petra, how would she receive this news? She smiled, obviously at ease with the situation, he smiled back, warmly thanking them for the invitation and walked to his bus as if on air.

The next morning was fraught with frustration, the bus was held up at every turn, he felt like shouting at the passengers taking their time to board the waiting bus. He cursed traffic lights, seeming to be forever stuck on red, then finally reaching the college. No car, he cursed the Gods, traffic and the world in general, then he saw her, a radiant smile just for him, as he stepped from the bus. She greeted him with the time he should be at her house at what her mother had planned for dinner. Once again they walked like royalty into the school, he was glad that those he had acknowledged yesterday looked hopefully in his direction, he nodded and said 'Hi' managing to include at least one other in his general gaze. It made him feel good to make others feel better about themselves, he felt like a pop star bestowing benevolence.

For the first time in a very long while Dan had not considered using he elastic band or even thought of harming himself. Being accepted and, in a way, loved, pushed all thoughts of punishing his body completely aside. Whilst life was not all roses, it wasn't all thorns either. After a wonderful time at Petra's, studying together and having dinner, Dan could be forgiven in thinking life couldn't get any better. However life is fickle and his tenuous grasp on popularity came crashing down. It seemed as though once her mother had fulfilled her obligation, Petra no longer wanted to be seen with him, fading once more to a non person. Resentment built up, against her, her mother and his lack of wit or conversation that would make her want to be with him. Of course it was him, useless, useless moron, he had blown the only chance he had with his saviour.

It was some days later he sat once more at the edge of the bath, the silly elastic band had broken, red colour smeared his arm, what's that shit all about? A hand reached for the razor, His? It seemed to have life and conviction of it's own, the tensions were building, there was only one way to get release. The cuts on the artery seemed at first to belong to someone else, a crimson underline to his failure, springing into being, a visual echo of his broken heart.

Stinging pain lagged behind, creeping into his awareness like a thief in the night, swamping melancholy with powerful endorphins. Worries dropped away, this felt so right, you can cut out depression, it was simple. A cut on the other arm and everything started to resolve itself, he could see things so much clearer now, he was light headed, euphoric even. This must be what the ancients meant when they sought Nirvana, at peace with not just yourself but with the whole world.

Blood was the answer, as if just letting it flow took tensions and confusion with it, he was thinking straight for the first time. Everything was in proportion, he could relax, problems were fading away.

The still locked bathroom door swung on skewed hinges, pieces of the frame littered the floor, lying unheeded on legs that would no longer feel, life pooled around the body that once held it, not Diane, not Dan . . . No Longer.

Written by: spitzharder

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Story Tags: transgender issues, cutting, self harming

Category: Non-Erotic Stories