𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐘 | (Under Construction)

08 | 𝔖𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯

For some time, Marisol had already practiced on herself, her siblings and a few folks around town. She found people possess a sense of style of their own. It makes them who they are, and someone who is willing to serve, Mari was willing to help people feel good about themselves, to help them brighten their day.

"Here is a body and face towel, there are more towels right here in this closet, down the end of this hall if you need another. You can take a shower in my bathroom. I'm gonna go shower in the other one."

"Okay, thanks."

After the refreshing feeling of being drenched with the scent of mocha and skin moisturized in cocoa butter, she was dressed in a silky baby blue button up and matching pajama pants for the night.

Liberty acknowledged her bedroom door was closed, probably that Marisol was still getting ready. She decided to head downstairs to grab two glasses of water when she heard her parents intensively arguing in the kitchen.

"Who's the girl?"

"Liberty's friend."

"Oh, so we just allowing anybody up in this house?"

"They're in school. They're bound to have friends who want to come over, have sleepovers, or have a study day. This isn't some hideaway shelter, Richard. They're allowed to have friends over."

"I don't feel comfortable knowing we got strangers just roaming 'round the house."

"She's not a stranger, dad, she's my best friend."

Their heads turn. Her father's eyes grew wide, his fingers quickly snatched the cig from his lips out of disbelief. He sidesteps from his annoyed wife to slowly approach his daughter, examining her hair's current state.

"What the hell . . . ? The fuck is this?!" He exclaims pointing at her head.

He looks between her and Gina. Liberty grimaced to the smell of alcohol exhilarated from his lips, "My hair . . . ?"

Stepping some inches away, his eyes snapped on her, "Don't get smart with me. The hell is wrong with your hair? What is that? Why does it look like that?!"

"It's called braids, Richard." Gina stresses smartly.

He just stares at her. The silence became excruciating to bear as they battled out a staring contest. Finally, he blinks.

"Who did it?"

"My best friend." Liberty answers, "the one you don't want in the house."

He points at her, "Take it down. Take it down right now, you look too grown."

"What?" Liberty's voice was high pitched now, looking at him as if he was crazy.

"She's not taking them down." Gina shakes her head in disapproval going back to cleaning the living room.

"Why not?"

"I'm not about to make her take them down just because you don't like them."

"She doesn't need to be out here looking fast, Gina. She's 18, not 24. She needs to be looking like a kid, not a grown ass woman."

"Richard," Gina sighs, "leave her alone."

Liberty glares at her father lighting up another cigarette. Rocking back and forth in his chair, he glares at her past his furrowed brows. She could tell he was vexed, but did she care? No, not at all. "I'ma go off to bed." She states before taking the glasses of water in her hands and walks away.