Page 26 of Ink

“A cross between bright and a deeper blue. I’d want it mixed in with black roots.”

“I know my opinion doesn’t matter, but if dying your hair will bring you even a little happiness, I vote do it. I think that color would agree with you.”

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. I don’t think I ever noticed how badly I needed someone’s approval of something I’m doing. To her, dying your hair probably isn’t a big deal, but to me it symbolizes that I’m finally free.

She’s right. I need to do this.

“Okay, yeah,” I agree with a small smile. “I’m going to do it.”

I have tomorrow off, and I have Ink’s pity paycheck burning a hole in my pocket. I know I wanted to save all of it towards a deposit for an apartment, but I think if I eat ramen until the next paycheck again, I can use the money I would have spent on better food on hair color.

It’s probably not the most responsible plan, but I deserve a little happiness, gosh dang it.

“There’s a beauty store that’s open late a few blocks away that always has a buy one get one sale going on. Check there.”

“Thank you,” I tell her earnestly. “I don’t know how you knew I needed to talk tonight, but I appreciate it.”

“Like I said before, sweet child, the gods knew our paths needed to cross. Everything in our world happens for a reason.”

I give her one last smile before I take off towards the beauty store.

I’m finally doing something I want.

There’s been nothing new from Zach.

The anxiety I had coming back to the motel last night was enough to make me feel like I was having a heart attack. The tightness in my chest didn’t ease until I was locked in my room with the dresser pushed in front of the door.

I didn’t plan on leaving the room today. Eventually, I need to actually go and look at the apartments I wrote down the other day, but for now, I need to take Madame Salem up on her advice. The cashier at the beauty store hooked me up with everything she deemed necessary for an at-home hair dye.

I thought it would feel weird spending the pity money, but once I had everything in my basket and was truly feeling excited about something, I didn’t think twice about it.

Setting the mixing bowls and product on the small bathroom counter, I get to work. Mixing the developer in with the color is so satisfying. I probably shouldn’t be doing this in such a small space, but the fumes from the dye are only fueling my excitement.

The cashier, whose name I learned was Lacy, convinced me to add some black pieces in with the blue. She said it would add dimension and really make my eyes pop. Apparently, guys go crazy when your eyes are bright and vibrant. I can’t say that I’ve ever had experience in that department. I thought I had found love with Zach. I thought he had wanted me for me, but boy was I a fool. It soon became very clear that it was a setup between him and my dad.

Real love doesn’t exist.

I dip the brush into the bowl with the jet-black hair dye. I pick up a decent glob and swipe it on my roots, spreading it a few inches down. The color feels cool on my head. Once I have all of that color applied, I grab the blue and spread it on the rest of the hair, blending it where the blue and black meet. Using my hands to make sure every strand is saturated, I clip up the ends and admire my handiwork in the mirror. Turning my head every which way.

I didn’t do too bad of a job at not getting color everywhere. There’s a little on my neck, but Lacy told me it will wash off in the shower.

It’s such a change from my previous blonde hair. I should be shocked at how different I look, but I’m not. My hazel eyes look brighter and just full of life. There’s a spark I haven’t seen since before Zach. How is it possible that version you’ve never seen of yourself looks familiar?

Setting a timer on my phone, I sit down on the bed, careful not to touch my head against anything. Not that it would matter. These sheets probably need to be burned. I need to continue my apartment search. I can put almost my whole check towards a deposit. I’ve got to be able to find a small one bedroom for that. Maybe even a studio. I don’t need much.

At this point, I’ll take anything that’s not here. I need to get out before Zach comes back. I don’t know how much time I have. He’s a loose cannon.

The timer on my phone rings, scaring me from my thoughts. The default ringer is a sound I will never get used to and will forever make my stomach sink. Turning on the water in the shower, I let steam fill the bathroom before carefully stripping my clothes and stepping in. The water running down my body turns black as soon as it hits my hair. It takes a few minutes of massaging my scalp to get all the color out.

I can only see the ends right now, but it already feels like a fresh start of its own. I quickly shampoo and condition before the lukewarm water runs ice cold. That’s another thing I’ll never take for granted again—a warm shower.

Toweling my hair off before wrapping the same towel around my body because apparently housekeeping isn’t a thing at this place and there was only one towel in the bathroom, I examine my dye job. The dark roots that fade into midnight blue make my eyes pop against the contrast. I’ve had blonde hair for so long because I was told over and over again that’s what men want. Colored hair was for sluts.

Aside from hating my hair before, I never realized how much the blonde washed me out. I look alive now. I snort to myself. How fitting, considering the old Sutton is dead.

I frown as I look around the bathroom.

I don’t have a hair dryer.