Loose Ends.

Chapter 6.

It only took one nightmare before I woke up, and therefore stayed up for the rest of the night.

I sat up on Soap's bed for the majority of the night, but occasionally I would stand up and try to walk around.

Even if it was weird to admit, I wished for someone to sleep with me; Soap, or Ghost, or even Captain Price. I felt safe with them.

I thought that rooming beside them would be enough to help me rest, but I was wrong. I didn't feel safe alone.

I ended up staying awake until my eyes closed out of exhaustion on their own. But by that time, the sun was already rising.

My eyes shut and my head lowered down onto Soap's desk. As soon as I finally felt tired enough to rest, there was a knock at the door.

I jolted upwards, sitting up straight in the desk chair. I turned to look at the door and slowly it opened.

Soap was pushing it open, and behind him was Ghost, looking down the hall, his arms crossed at his chest.

"Aye, good to see you dressed yourself," Soap teased with a smirk and walked inside. Ghost stayed in the hall.

"We snagged some clothes from the commissary for you," Soap continued and placed a small pile of folded clothing onto the desk, "Unless you wanna stay in mine… I definitely don't mind."

I could tell he was messing around, but it was also obvious that it was a flirt. I glanced over at Ghost who now had his attention on us and was shooting daggers at the back of Soap's head.

I looked back up at Soap and nodded my head, "I'll get dressed…thank you."

Soap took a couple steps backwards while chatting more, "We'll take you to get some food after."

Slowly, I stood up from the chair and took a look at the clothes they brought.

Soap left the room and shut the door.

There was a navy green T-shirt and a sports bra, a pair of camo cargos, a belt, and some female boy shorts. There were also some socks, a brush and a small pair of combat boots.

I turned red imagining Ghost and Soap picking out clothes for me, but I was thankful.

Once I was dressed, I purposely avoided the mirror. I didn't want to pay any attention to how I looked, however I did end up going over to it so I could fix my hair. It had gotten so long…

My previous brown hair was always long, even before I was captured. It looked awful right now, and I thought at first it was because of how matted and tangled it was. I lifted the brush and attempted to flatten it out, but it was so dense and thick that the brush could do nothing to it. The tangles had accumulated over the past five years…they never brushed my hair, if anything they made it more tangled by grabbing fistfuls of it.

Looking in the mirror, I saw an image of myself, being dragged down a hall by my hair…my long hair.

I felt anger. I looked down at the sink, and on it rested an electric shaver.

I didn't want to be the same woman I was with Hassan…nor did I want to be the same girl that was raised with Kate. The color had already chamhed…so, to finish the job, I began cutting my past away in chunks.

The razor made for an interesting look. It was jagged, uneven, and to me, ugly…but I looked different, and that's what I needed, so in a way, it was beautiful.

My white hair now rested just barely above my collarbone as opposed to the middle of my back.

All feelings of anger fell into the trash bin with the rest of my hair.