How to Save a Life ✓

XVIII: In Which She Dyes Her Hair

Trigger warning. It's not that bad but it's the start of something so I'll leave this here.
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Do you need help with something ma'am?"

I look to the saleslady and drop my hand that was originally touching the various hair dyes. I shake my head but when she steps away to leave, I call out to her. She turns around and comes back, waiting for me to say something.

"Actually, I do need help. I can't decide which color to choose."

We look at the assortment of dyes, ranging from platinum blond to the darkest black. She glances at my hair, her fingers picking up a strand and observing it. I flinch inwardly, trying not to show my discontent on the outside. I don't do well with touch. Especially if it comes from strangers.

"Why do you want to dye your hair? A bad breakup, or are you bored with your current color? The answer matters."

I chuckle slightly, amused at the idea that I would want to dye my hair just because of a bad breakup. Do girls really do that?

"No, definitely not because of a breakup. I want to be different; start something new."

"Oh, okay. I see what you want. I get those all the time."

Her delicate fingers, with freshly painted pink nail polish, lands on a box and she picks it up. The color reads Midnight Black. She puts it up to my face again and makes a sound of approval.

I look over the box in hesitation and say, "Are you sure that this will look good on me? Wouldn't this color make my already pale skin look like a ghost? Then again, I already feel like a ghost so looking like one wouldn't make much of a difference." I add as an afterthought. She appears confused for a moment, her plump lips being sucked in slightly, but she soon laughs it off.

"Nonsense. You would look beautiful with black hair. It'll make your blue eyes pop."

I imagine the color on me, and I smile. Midnight black would make me look completely different, not boring like my blonde hair makes me look.

"I'll take it."

We make our way over to the cash register and she scans the item and puts it in a bag. I hand over the cash and our hands touch. I don't make notice of it and put my hand back when she receives it. Her cheeks turn a light shade of red, and my eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

"If you don't like the dye, return it and we'll give you your money back. Maybe over dinner or something?"

Her dewy eyes twinkle and she smiles as she waits for my reply. I laugh nervously, suddenly aware of the implications of her words.

"Sure? If I don't like the dye, but I'm pretty sure I will. That's why I bought it. So sadly, no dinner. I got to go."

I point to the door behind me and slowly back away. She laughs slightly, her pretty brown hair falling over her eyes. She waves goodbye, and I nod, not knowing what to do. When I exit the store, I breathe a sigh of relief and walk home. That was weird.

When I go inside, my mother is watching T.V with a man. My eyes squint, trying to remember the man, when my mind finally clicks. It's the same guy who my mom introduced to me the first time I met Noah. I turn my head to the side in disgust, wanting to avoid looking at him. The pervert.

"Hi, mom."

"What's in the bag, Kate?" My mom dismisses my greeting and immediately looks the plastic bag besides me in suspicion.

"It's hair dye." She continues to look at me and I explain further, "My friend gave it to me as a present. She ordered the wrong color off the internet and she gave it to me."

"That's nice. Tell her to give something to me. Spread the generosity!" Both her and Danny laugh and I can only attempt a faint smile.

"I'll tell her that, mom. I'm going to put this on."

"Okay, don't make a mess!"

Danny stares at me as I go into the bathroom, and I shudder. I lock the door and see myself in the mirror. I take all the supplies out and put the dye in the bowl provided. My shirt is pretty old so I don't bother changing it. Reading the instructions one last time, I apply the dye to my hair. The dark cream feels cool at first before it settles on a stinging sensation as it seeps into my scalp. I ignore the pain as I continue applying it, trying to add it on the hard to reach places.

When I finish, I sit on the toilet and wait until the twenty minute allotted time finishes. Looking down, I see a spot on the floor and I grimace when I see the spot where I feel asleep in the bathroom, too sick to move. That was the same day that I found out my father is alive. I periodically check his Facebook, not seeing any new posts- he doesn't use it often. I think about creating one and befriending him, but I'm too scared to try, not wanting to find out what could happen.

I snap out of my thoughts and check the clock. Thirty minutes passed and I curse as I quickly step into the shower, taking off all my clothes. When I turn the water on, black fills my vision and the dye turns the water around me dark. I wash my hair thoroughly and then dry it with a towel.

Black hair replaced my previous blonde one, and I certainly look different. I run my fingers through my hair, feeling how soft it is. Although it's a step in the right direction, it still doesn't feel complete. My mind suddenly has an idea, and I bend down towards the bottom cabinet, grabbing a pair of scissors. 

Grabbing a strand of my hair, I take the scissors and cut through it messily. I try to make every strand the same length, but there is some human error. In the end, it's uneven, with some strands longer than others, but it's relatively the same. It's perfectly imperfect.

The moment is forgotten when I see the pile of hair around my feet. Sighing, I start to pick up the pieces and throw it into the bin. When I'm done, I grab the scissors to put it in it's place. Right then, there's a loud knock on the door and a voice follows it.

"Get out! I need to pee." Danny's voice sounds angry and I panic, trying to get out as fast as I can. In my hurry, the scissors slip from my wrist and when I try to grab it, it cuts the front of my hand.

I stare at it in shock and put my hand under cold water trying to stop the bleeding.

Blood everywhere. It's all red.

I cry out in exasperation, trying to get rid of the blood. The knock on the door gets louder. Eventually, I get toilet paper and put it on my wound, preventing further bleeding. Taking my clothes, I tighten the towel around my body and open the door.

When I step out, Danny grabs my wrist, seemingly angry. It all disappears when he sees me in just a towel. I struggle to let go as I grow more uncomfortable, realizing how barely covered I am.

He winks at me and says, "Maybe I should join you sometime." Letting go of my wrist, he steps into the bathroom, and I run to my room.

When I'm safely in my room, I sit on bed and let the tears fall. I remember my cut and take out the tissues to see the red line that runs across my hand. It's strangely comforting and I surround myself in blankets and I hold my cut close to me.

It stopped bleeding long ago, but I continue to cry, overwhelmed about everything.

Little did I know, it's the first of many similar cuts to come.