I get back into bed, moving calmly and efficently now, lie on my stomach, and pull the covers over my head. Inside the dark blanket tent, I fold the pie plate in half, press it flat, bend it back and forth,back and forth, like I'm following a recipe,back and forth until the fold is crisp. When I rip it, it gives way eaisly and I have two neat halves, each with a jagged edge. I lay my index finger lightly on the edge of one half,testing it. It's rough and right. I bring the inside of my wrist up to meet it. A tingle crawls across my scalp. I close my eyes and wait. But nothing happens. There's no release. Just a weird tugging sensation. I open my eyes. The skin on my wrist is drawn up in a wrinkle, snagged on the edge. I pull it in the other direction and a dull throbbing starts in my wrist. I hold my breath and push down on the piece of metal. It sinks it neatly. A sudden liquid heat floods my body. The pain is so sharp,so sudden, I catch my breath. There's no rush, no relief. Just pain, a keen,plusing pain. I drop the pie plate and grasp my wrist with my other hand, dimly aware even as I'm doing it that this is something I've never done before. Never tried to stop the blood. And it's never not worked.

Cut
by: Patricia McCormick
This book is a really good book about a girl who cut's her self..it's very real-life.