Chapter 4: Needs
Torin
I twirl the blade through my fingers. It's not an imposing blade. Only a couple of inches long with a stiff black leather handle and a razor-sharp edge polished to the point I can see my reflection every time I pick it up. It sees me. It's the only thing that sees me—that understands my pain. The need to cut is so strong. I hate it. It's always the same need. Before the temptation becomes too strong, I place the knife on the counter and remove my hood and mask. Feeling unbalanced, I walk towards the bathroom. I know that Zane is worried. I wish I could be normal for him. But every time I think of taking my mask off, my body freezes.
