Page 23 of Haven't Killed in Years
“Why not?” she said playfully—their way of flirting, I supposed.
He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, his lips still on her as the knife touched her skin. “Ten…” he began, backing his faceaway so he could see what he was doing. “Nine, eight, seven…” they all chanted. Elyse didn’t even flinch. “Six, five, four…” This game was combining my favorite things: counting and watching someone cause bodily harm. “Three, two, one!” Jake pulled back the knife and the group applauded her appropriately.
Elyse took a bandage off the table for herself and held it over her stomach as she returned to her seat.
“You’re a cheap date, Elyse,” Jake joked, again reaching for the Lysol wipes. “Next?”
“I’ll go,” I said, looking only at Elyse.
“Really?” he said. “Awesome.”
I slid off the couch and did my own crawl to him.
“This is Gwen’s first time,” he told the group, as if this even registered on the spectrum of deranged things I had experienced in my life. He reached for the bottom of my shirt, ready to lift it for me, but I panicked and stopped him.
He grinned, thinking I was chickening out. The truth was, I had to be careful lifting my shirt, not wanting to expose that I had already been cut, much deeper than this tomfoolery. It would ruin the admiration these people were about to have for my pain tolerance.
I lifted my shirt myself, slowly. We made intense eye contact. That was part of it, I guessed—the anticipation building. I brought my shirt as high as my rib cage, holding it at the center like a tent, keeping my sides covered. I sucked in my exposed stomach from a place of insecurity, but quickly released it, knowing the more fat the knife found the better. I didn’t want him accidentally slicing a tendon.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
I nodded and he put the knife to my skin. He hesitated again, waiting for me to change my mind. Everyone was silent, still. He put his other hand on my stomach to guide the knife. His thumb movedslightly, brushing my skin and trying to elicit a reaction. Realizing his parlor tricks weren’t working, he finally pushed the knife down. “Five, four…”
It hurt. I won’t pretend it didn’t. I put my head down and looked over to Elyse—making obvious and piercing eye contact.
“Three, two, one!” Jake pulled the knife back and the sting amplified. The crowd cheered. How amazing it was to win the affections of this group of societal rejects. Maybe later they could prop me up on their shoulders and we could march to an animal shelter and kill some puppies. It could be any or all of these wackos who was messing with me—probably the one who had just sliced my stomach with a knife.
I crawled back to my seat after I let Jake bandage me. Porter grabbed my face and kissed me three times on the cheek. I could tell Elyse was watching me, but this time I didn’t turn to her.
- - - - -
After the bonding exercisewrapped up, most of the group was experiencing the effects of the alcohol they had swallowed in defeat and I followed Elyse out onto the fire escape. She sat in her same spot, lighting a cigarette.
“How’s your stomach?” she asked, pulling back the lighter and inhaling.
My brain was telling me to confront her. I liked her. I could tell her I understood that she was batshit crazy, but maybe she could channel it elsewhere and we could be friends. I wouldn’t mind having a friend I could be honest with.
“Do you think it will scar?” I asked.
She shook her head as she blew out the smoke. “Jake tries not to cut too deep.”
“How considerate,” I remarked. “Do you do this sort of thing often?”
She offered me a drag of her cigarette, which I declined. “It’s something to do. They’re looking to escape. They like to get all fucked-up and think they’re badasses.”
“And you?”
“Everybody likes to do something they’re good at.”
“What’s that?” I asked, leaning against the railing.
“Mind over matter.” She brought the cigarette to her lips again. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”
“Why did you invite me here? I could have freaked out.”
“I knew you wouldn’t.” She blew the smoke over her shoulder, her eyes leaving me to watch its trail.
“You must think you know me pretty well.”
