Rolling over in my bed, my eyelids feel heavy, so fucking heavy. I didn’t even mean to fall asleep. I blink up at the ceiling, the faint glow of the campus lights bleed through the window as the trees sway in the wind. Why do I feel so… numb as if I’m floating.Is this a dream?My thoughts drift but I can’t think straight. I swallow but my tongue feels thick and dry like a piece of cotton was stuck in my mouth.What the fuck?I try to take a deep breath but I can't. It's as if my body and brain forgot how to.What the hell is happening?
Suddenly, I hear a sound—the softest faint click of my door. I freeze and my heart tries to spike but it feels sluggish like everything else.No, no, no.I need to move but I can’t, everything is just heavy. I try to twitch my fingers against the sheet but it’s barely atremor. Footsteps get closer but they are slow as if whoever it is isn’t afraid to be here. It’s intentional. My bed dips and my lungs seize as I try to gasp but it comes out broken. Someone is sitting beside me and I want to scream, but no one will hear me.I can’t move. I can’t speak. Who did this to me?Then a warm rush of heat coats my skin as a hand slides into my hair gently playing with the strands. He brings it up to his nose and inhales through the mask he’s wearing. A growl leaves his throat, and I shiver.
My stomach twists and I want to pull away but I can’t fucking move. Fingers thread through my long strands, tugging lightly, and they exhale. “You should’ve listened!” he whispers through clenched teeth right above my ear, his lips brushing against my skin.I know that voice.Panic claws at my ribs but it has nowhere to go. It just sits here trapped, suffocating me from the inside out.I just want to scream.
The cold edge of metal grazes the side of my neck and my breathing hitches.Is that scissors?Then the grinding sound of the first cut against my hair is soft, then another. Strands of my hair slide across my cheek like a feather before it drifts down to my pillow. He cuts more, not saying a word and tears fall down my face.Stop! Please stop! Get out of my room!I want to shout but I can’t, so I lay here trapped in a body that won’t move with a mind that is screamingto be saved!I just want to die. Someone help me! Please help me!
I’m so deep in my head wanting to scream for help that I don’t notice how angry his cuts are becoming. My brain and my surroundings are not in tune with each other and everything feels delayed. It’s maddening, but his grip on my hair tightens and he yanks my head to the side, forcing me to look at him, but all I see is a black mask, no signs of the person beneath it. He tilts his head then lifts my head towards his face, his warm breath brushing over my skin—weed, whiskey and something awfully familiar but I can’t fucking think. “Pretty little thing thought she could play dress up—play games. Little Flower knows better, but you—you are a knock off,” he murmurs as if he’s speaking to himself rather than to me. Another slice, this time longer, and a chunk falls, and I know right then that my hair is truly fucked.
Suddenly, he releases me and my head falls back onto the pillow, then my arm litters with goosebumps as his fingers slowly drag down before he lifts my fingers, staring at them almost like he’s examining each one. It’s creepy as fuck. “Now you’ll remember.” And the sound of the scissors cutting echoes around the room. I scream but nothing comes out. He takes his gloved thumb, pressing it against my bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. I tryto fight, try to move, try to scream. Anything, but nothing comes. My body just lays still as my mind continues to scream. Useless is what I am. Stupid. Dumb. Worthless. But useless in this moment. The bed shifts and his thumb disappears along with his presence as footsteps fade and the soft click of the door shutting sends silence rushing back in. But yet, I still can’t move. Tears continue to fall down the sides of my face onto my pillow. I don’t know how long I lay here trapped. It could’ve been minutes or hours. Time melted, then the sun begins to rise, but my eyes become heavier than before and everything goes black.
thirty-four
Rowyn Hale
Lost Mind
My eyes crack open slowly, and I instantly shut them. My head throbs like I’ve been pulled awake from somewhere too deep in my mind. For a second, I’m confused, but then I lift my fingers, bringing them to my hair and everything comes rushing back. I shoot up in bed, my heart beating faster in my chest, and finally I scream, letting the tears fall as I survey the area. Strands of hair cover my bed and I scream again. Lifting my hands to my head, I feel the cut locks. All my hair is chopped off.Why would he do this? It’s all fucking gone.My hair that was once so long is now shoulder length and choppy.
“No! No! No!” my voice rasps. The pieces are scattered all over my bed and floor. Why? Why would he cut my hair? What the fuck is wrong with him. This wasn’t a warning. This was a message.He knew exactly what he was doing. My punishment for doing exactly what was asked of me. Jumping out of bed, I trip over myself as I run to Misti’s mirror. There it is. Just my ugly face with chopped hair. How on earth am I going to fix this? Chunks missing, crooked edges. One side is shorter than the other. My stomach turns as bile rises in my throat. I want to hurt him. I want to fucking kill him for this. He could’ve done anything else but my hair. My fucking hair. I snarl at myself in the mirror then stomp over to my night stand, and with shaky hands, I pick up my phone and pull up the thread I have with Elliot and shoot off a text to him.
Me:
Why do you all hate me so much to hurt me like this! Why?
Ugh, I hate them. I don’t understand why Grayson keeps gunning for me. I let the tears spill because what else am I going to do? I'm too afraid to show up at his dorm and I don’t have his number. Elliot is the only one I can yell at right now. Then my phone begins to ring, Elliot’s name flashes over my screen, causing me to jump. I hit the green button, bringing the phone to my ear.
“He did this!” I growl.
“Whoa, who did what?” he asks as my grip tightens around the phone.
“Grayson! He came into my room last night and he—he cut my fucking hair!” I spit.
“Hold up!” he snaps back.
“No, I will not hold up! I couldn’t move, Elliot” I growl, pacing my room. “I was awake but I wasn’t… my body was… I don’t know, but he was here,”
“Petal, I’m not even on campus. He’s not there either,” he states, and I gasp.
“He’s messing with me. Is this punishment for doing what Kade told me to do?” I snap, my voice getting higher the more mad I get. “He’s been watching me, I know it—I feel it. And now my hair is chopped off!”
“This isn’t something Grayson would do. Are you sure you saw him?” he asks, and I scream.
“He was fucking here, Elliot. Wearing a black mask! His voice as he spoke. It was him!” I say in a panic stricken tone. It’s like he doesn’t believe me.
“As of last night, he was leaving and coming here. I passed out early. So I’m sure he’s sleeping in the guest room. Are you sure you’re not imagining this?” he accuses, and my eyes go wide.
“Are you fucking kidding me? He was here! The things he said to me all point to him. He called me Little Flower. He’s still here, I know he is. I can feel it, and he’s not done. He’s going to come back,” Irasp, my voice coming out shaky because I’m terrified. I’m truly afraid of what he could do to me next.
“He called you what?” he growls.
“Little Flower,” I whisper as silence greets me. Then shuffling.
“Let me call him and see what’s up. I will call you back,” he states, and the line goes dead. I take a deep breath and throw my phone on the bed. How could he think I was lying about this? That I fucking made it all up.I fucking hate it here.I huff then grab the broom from Misti’s closet and clean up my hair from the floor as my stomach rumbles. God, I need a tall glass of ice cold soda and some food. I just hope I don’t run into him anymore this week because I may just stab him in the fucking eye if I see the prick.
My phone blares, making me jump out of my skin. Reaching for it, I see it’s Elliot and hit decline, but he calls back. We play this game for a bit, then Kade starts calling.Jesus fucking Christ.Elliot calls once again, and I press the green button.
“What, Turtlehead?” I spit, and he growls.
