A short story about contorted love, inherited pain, and bleeding out quietly for someone else’s comfort.
Author’s Note
This is my (Lyndsay’s) first creative short story in years. It came through raw, all teeth and tenderness. I wrote it as an allegory—for the ways we contort ourselves to carry someone else’s pain, often at the cost of our own healing. Kodi isn’t just a character. She’s a truth many of us know too well. I’m not here to explain it. I’m here to let it speak.
🔪 SOUNDTRACK FOR THE BLEEDING
Looking for something to echo what you just read? This is the heartbeat behind the story.
🎧 Listen to the companion playlist:
The Precarious Knife on Spotify
A short story soundtrack by The Unfinished Human.
💔 The Story
Once upon a time, in a not-so-distant land, lived a curious creature named Kodi and her cautious partner, Cat.
One day, Kodi was in the kitchen—picking up, organizing, and cleaning, as she often did to calm her chaotic mind and nervous body.
Cat thundered in, all appetite and noise.
“I’m hungry! What’s there to eat?”
“Lots of options.”
Cat began digging through the cupboards, the pantry, and the fridge.
“I’m going to make a feast fit for a king!”
Kodi continued to clean as Cat pulled out the finest game—harvested himself—along with fresh vegetables and his cooking tools.
First, the cutting board. Then his prized, heirloom butcher knife.
“This knife was passed down through every man in my line. Used to gut elk and deer, carve turkey, and once—it helped defend our land in war. It’s sacred.”
He began slicing and dicing away, sculpting what he proclaimed would be the finest culinary work of art ever created.
“Into the oven!” Cat exclaimed. “This is going to be so good!”
Just then, Cat grabbed his butcher knife and whirled around to toss it into the sink—
Right where Kodi was standing, washing dishes.
“OWWWWW!” Kodi howled.
“Kodi! Why didn’t you move?! Why didn’t you tell me you were there? Why didn’t you try to get out of the way?!”
Confused, blood dripping from the knife now lodged in her flank, she tried to ground herself.
“Grab a towel. Call the doctor. I need to get to a doctor.”
“I didn’t mean to, Kodi. You were just there—out of nowhere!”
“I know you didn’t mean to, Cat. But I’m hurt. I’m bleeding. Can you help me?”
Still trying to explain how he didn’t intentionally stab her, Cat handed her a towel.
“This is madness. I need to sit down.” He turned pale, eyes fixed on the blood pooling across the tile.
“Cat. I need help. I need to get this wound looked at. Stitched up. There’s a lot of bleeding.”
“Kodi, I said I didn’t mean to. Why are you acting like I did it on purpose?”
“I’m not. I know it was an accident. But I’m still bleeding. I’m not okay.”
“Maybe just sit with me. Hold my hand? Could you clean up the blood on your way over?”
They never got Kodi help. The knife stayed. First as a necessity. Then a secret. Then just… a part of her.
_ _ _
Kodi was a kind, empathetic soul. She had a gift for seeing the broader view—able to step into other’s shoes and hold space for their pain. She wanted people to feel safe, seen, heard.
So, she cleaned up the blood on her way over to hold Cat’s hand.
Cat felt terrible for stabbing Kodi. Though he hadn’t actually said that. Or done anything to tend to her pain. Or helped her get what she needed to heal.
Cat was a sensitive soul too—though you wouldn’t know it at first glance. Tough. Rugged. Willing to carry hundreds of pounds of food on his back for miles to help a neighbor in need. He lived to serve others. It made him feel worthy. Useful. Good.
_ _ _
A few days went by.
Kodi still had the knife sticking out of her flank, but the bleeding had mostly stopped—unless the knife got bumped.
“Good morning, Kodi! Want to go exploring the woods today?” Cat asked cheerfully.
Hesitantly, Kodi replied, “I think I need to rest. I’m still not feeling well.”
Cat came in for a hug.
“Ugh, fine. You never want to do anything with me anymore.”
“Ouch!” yelped Kodi as he knocked into the knife during the hug.
“What?! I can’t do anything right anymore!” Cat snapped. “You’re bleeding again—and you got some on me. Now I have to go change. Thanks a lot.”
Kodi looked at Cat, bewildered.
“You need to fix that, Kodi. It’s hard for me to get close to you with a knife sticking out. I always end up bleeding too. When are you going to fix it?”
Kodi blinked. Unsure when the blade became a burden she was expected to carry for his comfort.
Cat went upstairs to change—annoyed that her wound was still “in the way.” Wishing she’d just fix it so it didn’t interfere with him anymore.
_ _ _
Days went by. Then weeks. Then months.
Kodi’s flesh had healed around the shaft of the knife. Still there. Still tender.
She taped it in place to keep it from shifting and tearing new wounds. She wore loose clothing, with bandages beneath, so Cat wouldn’t see the blade—or get any blood on himself if the tape didn’t hold.
Kodi wasn’t sure when she’d stopped tending to the wound and started tending to its inconvenience.
_ _ _
One day, in the kitchen again, Cat searched the drawers and cupboards.
“Do you know where my favorite knife is? I want to make a meal fit for a king—but I can’t find it.”
Kodi glanced down at her side, then looked at Cat.
He remembered. The stab. The towel. The doctor they never called.
His face twisted into a scowl.
“You still have my knife?! Do you even care what matters to me?!”
Unclear how they’d gotten here, Kodi apologized.
“I’m so sorry, Cat.”
“That was passed down for generations! My father’s father’s father—seven generations back! How could you keep it like this?! Do you even care about me?!”
“I don’t want you to feel that way. I do care. I think about you all the time. I love having you here. I’m not me without you. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
Cat, feeling vindicated, held out his hand.
Kodi looked at his hand. Then at her side.
Cat smiled gently, nodding.
Kodi contorted to reach toward the handle, grasped it, and slowly—excruciatingly—pulled the knife from her flesh.
Cat reached out, eager to reclaim his beloved knife.
“I don’t want to cook now. It’s bloody. Has body bits on it. You can clean it later. Let’s go snuggle.”
He took her by the unbloodied hand and led her to the sitting area, where they curled up together.
Hand in hand.
He exhaled a sigh of relief. Content. Safe.
While Kodi quietly bled out.
The End.
If this piece spoke to you, you might also resonate with The Things We Don’t Say.
Also published on Medium.
The Unfinished Human is a creative experiment in being and un-becoming in a world that rarely lets us.
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