Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #301275 in Books
• Published on: 2002-02
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 160 pages

Excerpted from Cut by Patricia McCormick. Copyright © 2002. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
You say it ’s up to me to do the talking. You lean
forward, place a box of tissues in front of me, and your
black leather chair groans like a living thing. Like the
cow it used to be before somebody killed it and turned it
into a chair in a shrink ’s office in a loony bin.
Your stockinged legs make a shushing sound as you
cross them. "Can you remember how it started?" you say.
I remember exactly.

It was at the last cross-country meet, ight around the
four-mile mark. Everybody had passed me, just like the
week before and the week before that. Everybody –
except a girl from the other team. We were the only ones
left in the last stretch of the course, the part that winds
through the woods and comes out behind the school.
Our shadows passed along the ground slantwise; slowly
they merged, then her shadow passed mine.
The soles of her sneakers swam up and down in
front of me, first one, then the other, a grid of ridges that
spelled out the upside-down name of the shoe
company. My steps fell in time with hers. My feet went
where her feet had just been. She leaned in around a
corner, I leaned in around a corner. She breathed, I
breathed. The she was gone.

I couldn ’t even picture her any more. But what scared
me, really scared me,was that I couldn ’t remember the
moment when I ’d stopped seeing her. And I knew then
that if I couldn ’t see her, no one could see me.
Sounds from the track meet floated by. A whistle
trilling. Muffled applause, the weak sputtering of gloved
hands clapping. I was still running, but now I was off the
path, heading away from the finish line, past the cars in
the parking lot, the flagpole, and the HOME OF THE LIONS
sign. Past fast-food places and car repair shops and
video stores. Past the new houses and the park. Until,
somehow, I was at the entrance to our development.
It was starting to get dark now, and I slowed down,
walking past houses with windows of square yellow
light where mothers were inside making dinner, past
houses with windows of square blue light where kids
were inside watching TV, to our house, where the
driveway was empty and the lights were off.
I let myself in and flipped the light switch. There was
an explosion of light. The kitchen slid sideways, then
righted itself.

I leaned against the door. "I ’m home, "I said to no
one.
The room tilted left, then right, then straightened out.
I grabbed hold of the edge of the dinner table and tried
to remember if we stopped eating there because it was
piled with junk or if it was piled with junk because we
stopped eating there.

On the table there was a roll of wadding, a glue gun, a
doily, a 1997 Krafty Kitchens catalogue. Next to the
catalogue was a special craft knife with the word EXACTO on
the handle. It was sleek, like a fountain pen, with a thin
triangular blade at the tip. I picked it up and laid the blade
against the doily. The little knots came undone, just like
that. I touched the blade to a piece of ribbon draped across
the table and pressed, ever so slightly. The ribbon unfurled
into two pieces and slipped to the floor without a sound.
Then I placed the blade next to the skin on my palm.
A tingle arced across my scalp. The floor tipped up
at me and my body spiralled away. Then I was on the
ceiling looking down, waiting to see what would happen
next. What happened next was that a perfect, straight
line of blood bloomed from under the edge of the blade.
The line grew into a long, fat bubble, a lush crimson
bubble that got bigger and bigger. I watched from above,
waiting to see how big it would get before it burst. When
it did, I felt awesome. Satisfied, finally. Then exhausted.
I don ’t tell you any of this, though. I don ’t say anything. I
just hug my elbows to my sides. My mind is a video on
fast-forward. A video with no soundtrack.
And finally you sigh and stand up and say,"That ’s all
we have time for today."

Customer Reviews

On the whole, a good read...
This book is a good read for those people who either self harm and want to find out more on this topic, and why they feel compelled to engage in this activity, or for friends or relatives of those who self harm who want to know how they're feeling. Although Callie's feelings are not expressed in the best possible way, which may leave the reader a little confused, 'Cut' offers an interesting insight into mental health units that many people may find enlightening.

Excellently Written and is the best Tear Jerker I've read.
I recently watched the movie thirteen which also has two scenes of self harm and I was writing a review on this website and had this as hot pick in books. I became attracted to the story and bought it. I am half way through and I am begining to love it, It is a sad story of a 15-year-old girl named Callie who is not the talkative type, she is a patient at Sea Pines known as "Sick Minds" a treatment centre where her mother and father send her after discovering that she cut herself.But she can stay silent only temporarily as she lets out her secret that led to her self harmly behavior. This is one to read if you want to stop self harming and shows you what teens and adults sometimes go through.

Cut
I really enjoyed this book as it desribes self harm with great precision. I really understood the character and how she was feeling. I myself cut for about a year and it really helped me. It comforted me to know that there were others out threr like me. I recommened this book to any teenagers or even adults who have self harmed or would like to learn more about it.