Like This, for Ever

Like This, for Ever - By Sharon Bolton


Prologue


‘THEY SAY IT’S like slicing through warm butter, when you cut into young flesh.’

For a second, the counsellor was still. ‘And is it?’ she asked.

‘No, that’s complete rubbish.’

‘So, what is it like?’

‘Well, granted, the first part’s easy. The parting of the skin, that first rush of blood. The knife practically does it for you, as long as it’s sharp enough. But after that first cut you have to work pretty hard.’

‘I imagine so.’

‘The body’s fighting you, for one thing. From the moment you cut, it’s trying to heal itself. The blood starts to clot, the artery or vein or whatever it is you’ve opened is trying to close and the skin is producing that icky, yellowy stuff that eventually becomes a scab. It’s really not easy to go beyond that first cut.’

‘It seems to be largely about the first cut for you, would that be fair to say?’

The patient nodded in agreement. ‘Definitely. By the time the knife touches skin, the noise in my head is close to unbearable – I feel like my skull’s about to blow apart. But then there’s that first drop of blood, and the next, and then it’s just streaming out.’

The patient was leaning forward eagerly now, as though the act of confession, once begun, was unstoppable.

‘I’ll tell you what it’s like – it’s like that first heavy snowfall in winter, when suddenly everything’s beautiful and the world falls silent. Well, blood does exactly the same thing as snow. Suddenly, the pain means nothing, all that noise in my head has gone away. Somehow, with that first cut, I’ve gone to another place entirely. A place where, finally, there’s peace.’

Gently, almost apologetically, the counsellor closed her notebook. ‘We’re going to have to stop now,’ she said. ‘But thank you, Lacey. I think, at last, we’re getting somewhere.’