The Cutting Kit Symbol in Hour of the Witch: Grief, Self-Harm, and the Choice to Stop

What the Cutting Kit Is and Where It Comes FromnThe cutting kit is a repurposed airline first-class amenities bag, deep blue and white, that Alexis Remnick has emptied of its original contents—earplugs, toothbrush, slippers, sleep mask—and filled with the tools of self-harm: a five-pack of rectangular razor blades in cardboard cases, a scalpel, Medi-First alcohol wipes, a bottle of Bactine, hydrogen peroxide in a travel container, sterile gauze pads, and six Skin-Flex Band-Aids. The kit is both a practical first-aid kit for self-inflicted wounds and a psychological artifact of Alexis's history with cutting.nThe novel presents the kit as something Alexis assembled deliberately, not in a moment of crisis, but as a reminder of all she had transcended when she moved back to New York, and as a dare she would never take. She tells herself it is a reminder and a dare, but privately fears it is a life preserver: in case of fire, break glass. This tension—between the kit as evidence of recovery and the kit as an invitation to relapse—defines its symbolic weight throughout the novel.n## Where the Cutting Kit AppearsnThe kit recurs at three key moments in the narrative, each marking a different stage in Alexis's grief over Austin Harper's death.n### Chapter 16: The Near-RelapsenAfter her mother and Ellie Thomas leave her apartment, Alexis sits alone on her bed, pulls up her nightshirt, and stares at the scars on the insides of her thighs. The kit sits on the mattress beside her. She holds the scalpel very much like a pen, then sets it aside and removes one of the razor blades—her favorite, because the pain was exquisite and the lines were precise. She presses the blade against a line of scar tissue at the seam of her panties but stops before breaking the skin. She closes her eyes, breathes mindfully, and tells herself this wasn't who she was, this wasn't who she would be—at least not tonight. She slides the blade back into its cardboard holster, throws it away (since she had removed it and pressed it against her skin), zips up the kit, and considers taking it to the garbage chute by the elevator—but doesn't. She is like that ex-smoker who always kept a pack in the nightstand, just in case. She buries the kit deep in her dresser behind socks she never wears, then takes a hot shower.n### Chapter 29: The Second TestnWeeks later, after meeting Ellie at a hotel bar and discussing Austin's lies, Alexis again takes the cutting kit to bed. This time she goes further: she places a deep-brown bath towel beneath her naked thighs, runs an alcohol wipe along the skin near the edge of her underwear, and presses a razor blade against her flesh. But again, she stops herself and puts everything away. The chapter closes with her reflection: investigating Austin's death is a way of not letting go, a way of keeping him close by trying to learn what happened. The kit and the investigation become parallel strategies for managing grief—both involve touching something dangerous, and both require her to choose whether to go through with it.n### Chapter 33: RepurposingnBefore leaving for the lab tour with Wilbur Sinclair, Alexis takes a scalpel from her cutting kit—but not to cut herself. She also takes two energy gels from Vietnam. The scalpel has been repurposed, transformed from an instrument of self-harm into a tool for the investigation and potentially for self-defense. The kit's meaning shifts: it is no longer only a reminder of past struggles, but a resource she can draw on for a different kind of agency.n## How the Symbol's Meaning EvolvesnThe cutting kit's meaning changes across these three appearances, tracing Alexis's arc from near-relapse to resistance to repurposing.nFrom reminder to life preserver. When the kit is first introduced, Alexis insists it is a reminder of her transcendence and a dare she will never take. But the narrative immediately undercuts this: in fact, she feared, it was a life preserver. The kit is both a monument to her recovery and a standing temptation. This duality is central to how the novel treats self-harm—not as a clean break from the past, but as an ongoing negotiation with it.nFrom self-harm to investigation. By Chapter 29, the kit's role has shifted. Alexis still brings it to bed, still presses a blade to her skin, but she stops herself—and the chapter's real focus is on her realization that investigating Austin's death is itself a way of keeping him close. The kit becomes a parallel to the investigation: both are ways of managing grief, both involve touching something dangerous, and both require her to choose whether to go through with it.nFrom tool of harm to tool of agency. In Chapter 33, Alexis takes a scalpel from the kit for a purpose entirely unrelated to self-harm. The kit has been transformed from a symbol of her vulnerability into a source of practical resourcefulness. She is still grieving, still carrying the kit, but she is no longer using it against herself.n## Character and Theme ConnectionsnThe cutting kit is inseparable from Alexis Remnick's character. She is an ER doctor—someone professionally trained to treat wounds—who has a private history of inflicting them on herself. The novel draws a pointed contrast between her clinical competence and her personal vulnerability. She recalls learning about self-harm in med school, where her professor discussed it in terms of opioids and endorphins; she privately disagrees, understanding it as self-loathing and release, simultaneously punishment and agency. The kit is the physical embodiment of that understanding: it contains the tools of punishment, but also the supplies for care (Bactine, gauze, Band-Aids). It is a self-contained cycle of harm and healing.nThe kit also connects to the novel's broader themes of grief and the pursuit of truth and mourning as a catalyst for action. Alexis's grief over Austin Harper is complicated by his lies—she is mourning not just a person, but a version of him that may not have existed. The cutting kit is one of the few things in her life that is entirely her own, a private ritual that predates Austin and will outlast her investigation of his death.nThe kit also resonates with the novel's historical storyline. In the 17th-century chapters, Mary Deerfield's husband Thomas strikes her with the same graceful, efficient arc a skilled man uses to scythe—a cutting motion that is also a form of violence. The scythe and the scalpel are both cutting tools, but they are wielded very differently: Thomas uses his to dominate and punish; Alexis uses hers (or nearly does) to punish herself. The parallel suggests a through-line of violence and its internalization across centuries.n## Study Questionsn**1. Why does Alexis keep the cutting kit even after she stops herself from cutting?nAlexis keeps the kit because it serves a dual function: it is both a reminder of how far she has come and a life preserver she fears she might need. She compares herself to an ex-smoker who always kept a pack in the nightstand, just in case. The kit is not simply a temptation—it is also a form of control. As long as she has it, she is the one deciding whether to use it. Throwing it away would mean confronting the possibility that she might need to rebuild it, which would be an admission that her recovery is not complete.n2. How does the cutting kit's meaning shift across its three appearances?nIn Chapter 16, the kit is primarily a symbol of Alexis's past and her ongoing struggle—she retrieves it, nearly uses it, and stops. In Chapter 29, it becomes a symbol of her grief and her refusal to let go of Austin; she goes further than before (towel, alcohol wipe) but still stops, and the chapter connects the kit to her investigation of Austin's death. In Chapter 33, the kit is repurposed: she takes a scalpel from it for a different kind of agency, transforming it from a tool of self-harm into a tool of self-protection and investigation.n3. What does Alexis's description of cutting as punishment and agency reveal about her character?nAlexis understands her self-harm as both a way of punishing herself and a way of asserting control. The phrase this is me, this is no one else, I deserve this and I did this captures the paradox: cutting is simultaneously an act of self-directed violence and an act of self-ownership. This understanding is what allows her to resist it—she knows what the kit represents, and she knows what it would mean to use it. Her ability to articulate this tension is part of what makes her eventual choice to stop (and to repurpose the scalpel) meaningful.n4. How does the cutting kit connect to the novel's treatment of grief?**nThe kit is one of several ways Alexis manages her grief over Austin. She says explicitly that investigating his death is a way of not letting go—and the cutting kit functions similarly. It is a physical object she can hold, a ritual she can perform, a way of feeling something concrete in the face of loss. But the novel suggests that both the investigation and the kit are ultimately ways of avoiding the harder work of actually mourning. The kit's evolution—from near-use, to resistance, to repurposing—mirrors Alexis's gradual movement from holding on to Austin to beginning to let him go.