DN - Knife Knot

I slide the butter knife out of my sweatshirt sleeve and sit down on my narrow bed. I slipped it up here to test a theory. With just a few fingers at either end, I try to bend the metal. It resists me, and for a moment disappointment wells up in my chest. But then I get a sense of something, like if I pushed in just this way, then—

With a quiet whine of tortured metal the knife bends in half, easy as folding a piece of paper.

Holy shit.

I feel cold and shaky. The knife slips out of my fingers. I’d hoped. I’d really sincerely hoped, but I didn’t—

Holy shit.

Go ahead, Dad. Hit me like you mean it. What do you think you can do? Force me to take testosterone shots? I pick the knife back up, and tie it in a knot. Nobody is going to force me to do anything ever again.

- Dreadnought, Chapter 3