𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕪

2

Steam filled the shower as the hot water stung my skin, relieving an itch I didn't know I had.

It was hard being dead, nothing felt the same,
I didn't feel things any less but I felt in a different way.
It was like I was experiencing the world on the other side of a television, never feeling present in a real moment.

I hoped that it would change—get better—but I wasn't suffering to any delusions.

At first I did really believe it would get better, that I was in some dissociative state due to grief.
The loss of my mother hit me hard, I had so many things I wished I could've said to her, the last time we spoke it we were in a fight and I now had no way of fixing it. I was so upset with myself I didn't speak for about a month after it was all over.

But there was another grief in me, a shameful kind of grief I tried to keep buried.
Theo.
I didn't want miss him, and I didn't.
But I felt so empty without him, I knew I was his anchor but I didn't realise he might have been mine.

I needed closure. My mum, my dad, and Theo were dragged from my life without warning, I had died and lost apart of myself, and Keith dropped off the raider without so much as a word of notice, let alone a proper goodbye.
But wasn't going to get what I needed, I just needed to find way to let go. Move on.

Wrapping a white towel around my body, I stepped out of the shower, leaving a small puddle on the grey tiles before walked onto the bath mat.
I wiped away the condensation on the mirror and looked at my mangled hair in the reflection.
I hadn't been taking much care of myself lately and dealing with my hair was always a struggle, only this time it was even more of a challenge.

The brush only met resistance as I tried to detangle the mess that reached my belly button. A groan escaped me as frustration began to build in me, a warm, tingling sting that rushed through my body. I tried to stamp it out, shaking out different limbs to get rid of the sensation but I knew where the problem rooted from.

I opened the second draw under my bathroom sink. Hair ties, moisturiser, blow dryer, condoms, flat iron, and scissors.
I pulled the picked it up the red handle, I looked at my reflection with the weapon of destruction in my hand.
My hair was a never ending struggle, I couldn't keep doing the same cycle of violent and painful brushing and then it returning to its disarray moments later.
I needed to find a solution and stop using temporary fixes.

I grabbed a bunch of wet, knotted hair.
I brought the scissors to my hair, raising it from the ends up to shoulder, letting to open scissors hover over the dark brown mess.
I squeezed my eyes shut.

Snip.

I opened my eyes to see a cluster to long hair at my feet.

"Oh shit." I mumbled, getting the first glimpse of my new appearance. A chunk of my hair hacked off leaving me looking worst than before. "No stopping now."

Snip.

Chop.

Snip.

Snip.

Chop.

Snip.

Certainly wasn't bad but it wasn't good either, it was clear to see that I had done it myself; impulsively, in a bathroom, using kitchen scissors, done in under five minutes.
It was uneven and choppy, bits were frizzy as it begun to dry and others were still damp, to be completely honest... it looked like shit.
Yet for some reason this weight had been lifted, I loved it. It definitely needed fixing but I felt like myself for the first time in months.

"Oh my god!" Cynthia rushed down the hallway to meet me.
"What did you do?" She screeched.

"Ahh umm" I chuckled, my voice cracking with uncertainty. "I cut it off."

I smiled weakly, clutching the towel around my body.

"Give me the scissors. Go to your room" she looked me up and down, "get dressed. I will fix it." She exhaled sharply, picking her fingers together as she tried to remain calm.

Sat on a chair in the kitchen, dressed in a baggy red T-shirt and black bike shorts, I felt as Cynthia combed through my what was left of my hair.

"Why'd you do this to yourself?" She asked, her voice soft as if she were coddling a sad child. "We're you trying to hurt yourself in a way?"

"No—" I answered too quickly. "No, Cin. I just needed to let go. This helped."

I couldn't see her but I could tell she had nodded in response.
She had swapped for some better scissors and reset my hair before she began to even out my hair.
"Tilt your head forward, please." She instructed in a quiet voice.
Her hands were delicate as they touched me. Ran through my hair, pressed against parts of my bare skin, I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss being touched like this.
My mother hadn't touched me or cared for me in that manner for years, now she never will.
My father never did and never will either.

I wiped a tear before it had the chance to rolled down my cheek.
It hurt, I lost so much but for the first time, it felt although I had let go of them rather than having them ripped from me.
I still missed them, all of the people I lost, Theo included.
But maybe it was just what happened, maybe there's nothing I can can do to undo it, maybe that's okay.

"Done." She said, dusting the loss hair trimmings off my shirt.

"Thank you." I smiled before walking upstairs to see my reflection.

"Fuck." I whispered.
I didn't recognise myself, it looked great though, Cynthia should definitely be a hairdresser.
My hair just past my chin and thanks to Cynthia it had soft layers that made it flow.
I couldn't recognise myself because for the first time in my life I liked what I saw in the mirror.
I looked stronger, braver, more confident and mature.
I looked like myself.