~31~ mirror, mirror

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Her hair looks like a bunch of rags. The strands are different lengths of shortness. Choppy. A storm has disturbed her head. Fascinated, almond-shaped green eyes stare into the mirror. There’s a mixture of tiredness and revulsion in her gaze. She can’t quite believe her bad luck. There’s a hint of a rosy blush in her cheeks. She runs a hand over her scalp and feels the disordered clumps of hair. 

No more silky hair. 

Oh well.

That’s life. 

Is that really me? Wow — I look like a pauper child. I mean, I always considered cutting my hair into a pixie-crop. Dad would never allow it though. In his book, girls have long hair while old women have short hair. He’s weird like that. 

How the fvck am I going to explain this to him? He’ll go ballistic. I start to chew my finger thoughtfully. It doesn’t matter — I’ll think of an excuse.

He’ll kill me though. 

My hand wraps around a brush and I start to run it through my shaggy brown mop. Then I remember that I haven’t got much hair to brush. Angrily, I smack brush against the mirror. Fine cracks run along the shiny glass like a disease.

The brush tumbles onto the tiles. 

Great. Another thing Dad will criticise me for — I hate him. My life’s already miserable. It’s not like it’s going to get any better.

I run my fingers over my burning lips. I can still feel the invisible imprint of Mr Zeepler’s mouth on mine. Disgusted, I spit in the basin.

What the fvck was I thinking? I don’t really like him. I just needed some… comfort.

My knees buckles underneath me; I slump onto the soft, fluffy rug. 

The tears flow freely. 

A/N: Please VOTE, COMMENT and SHARE! Thank you! :) Will Amelie's dad will find out about her hair? What will be his reaction? :D

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