The cut

Jeremy just wished to be alone and invisible. But no matter how much he tried, people still stared at him. The black clothes and the weird shapeless haircut were useless; he was just too big for his age. As he waited by her car, he could only think about it. At age thirteen he was the tallest boy in his class. Tall, thin, clumsy. He drew attention wherever he went. This is what made him especially concerned with this biology assignment. He didn’t mean to make such a good work. He tried, as usual, to be average. But he dissected that frog in such a perfect way, that she chose him to represent the school in the regional competition that weekend. “You really have a talent, young man! You did an amazing job,” she told him. He knew that already. He always liked cutting things.

It was not his fault if his colleagues were dumb. He should have guessed that no one would do a decent job and he would outstand everyone. Now the only way out of this was going to be hard. People often think it is something good to be different. That everyone should try to stand out and show the world what makes them unique. Jeremy knew that what makes us unique isn’t always something good. Sometimes he wanted to be like Marie. She was the girl who sat on the back and used to cut her left arm. He could understand her. He also felt like cutting the problems away. If he could, he would make a dissection on himself and, after opening his own body, separate among the skin, veins and blood, whatever he felt unnecessary. Marie still had scars on her arm, so she always wore long sleeves, even in hot days.

As he thought about all this, his teacher was finally approaching her car. She smiled to him and he smiled back. The world was filled with freaks, he thought. But they all could act normal and pretend to fit the model. Hide whatever they wanted to hide. That was not possible to him. He realized people observed him during gym class or whenever he walked with his classmates and it made him feel uncomfortable. He hated feeling the looks on him. He was quite sad she didn’t accept his excuses. She was really forcing him to go on and present his project in front of all these people. He decided that from now on he would be more careful with his actions. There was no need for any more suffering. He put his hand in his pocket and felt it, the cold metal, as she finally got to the car.

- How are you, Jeremy? Excited about tomorrow?

- I really don’t want to go, Mrs. Shields.

- That’s nonsense, dear! We talked about that and you are going. I am in a bit of a hurry, would you pleas… Ah! – she reached her throat trying to block the blood. She couldn’t believe what just happened. She looked at him in horror and tried to speak, but the words couldn't leave her mouth anymore. Jeremy just stood there, looking at her. Indeed, he always liked cutting things.

Versão em português

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