A homeless thief breaks into a house that has nothing worth stealing - except for the heart of a lonely man who is obsessed with time.
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Blake has been living on the streets for...
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-Jordan-
It was time.
The day before New Year's eve, the evening I would cut my hair, had arrived.
Blake was standing right behind me in my bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, holding my braid with two hands. There was a pair of scissors on top of the sink. Blake's arms were around my waist, his chest pressed against my back.
"No more spending ages to wash my hair..." I muttered, and tried to smile at that thought, but it still scared me.
But I was ready. I was more than ready. I turned around and buried my head in Blake's shoulder, letting go of my hair. For good.
Blake caressed my back slowly with one hand and leaned away to take the scissors. We had agreed that it would be best if he did it. There was the possibility I would hate him for cutting my hair, but we both knew I would never be able to do it myself. I would most likely panic if I tried, and I would be holding scissors.
We had done our usual precautions in hopes losing my hair would be easier. We were both in our pajamas already, in case I freaked out and Blake had to carry me to my bed. I would freak out, I knew I would, but that didn't stop me.
"Do it," I breathed out, trying to focus on him, not what he was doing.
I hugged him tighter when he removed his arms. When he grabbed my braid, I bit my teeth together, squeezed my eyes shut, and dug my fingers into his back. I was afraid. My heart was beating fast and I felt nauseated.
And then... the sound of scissors closing once, twice, three times... And the weight was gone.
I let out a deep breath, feeling almost surprised that it didn't hurt. Of course it didn't hurt.
But then it hit me. The braid was gone. Part of me was gone.
Blake put the scissors away, and I heard him stuffing the braid in a plastic bag, out of the view. Then he hugged me without saying a word. I held onto him as tightly as I could, fearing for the worst. I didn't want to think about what I would see if I turned around to face the mirror. I didn't want to see my reflection.
"Okay..." Blake muttered. "Let's take you to bed."
"I... I need to take a... shower..." I spoke breathlessly. I was feeling dizzy and weak now.
"I don't know about that," Blake said quietly. "You're shivering all over..."
"I don't... I..." my head was shutting down.
"Okay, I'll take you to bed," he said, and before I could do or say anything, he picked me up from the floor.
It was the first time anyone had carried me. That I could remember. I started crying silently when he walked out of the bathroom. I was nearly panicking. I didn't know what to do, how to react, or what to even think.
