His mother had given the blades and the razor to Gavin as an early present for his sixteenth birthday. “You’ll need them to pass in college. Normal men have them. Fairy men don’t have beards; hybrids, sometimes.”
Gavin took the steel blades into the bathroom, locked the door, and took off his clothes. He sat naked on the edge of the tub, staring at the razor in his right hand and at his left wrist, at the untouched pale skin, glowing a pale, pale, glimmer of yellow, a fading yellow light. Light lingered in his fingertips and his ears, and his nose glowed.
He knew it was wrong. But it was so powerful that it filled up his body so much that he couldn’t feel anything. He stood at the sink, turned on the water. Steam rose into his face. He touched the razor blade to his skin. How deep did he
