The Golden Rule

Ch 6: Cure

 Acci didn't remember falling asleep. Sweetie's bloody face was still fresh in her mind even after she had five tonics. Strangely, she did not feel that familiar ache and fuzziness she would get after a night of drinking. In fact, she didn't remember being drunk at all. Squeal had probably given her dirty water after she traded him half a loaf of Tonic's bread, but she was willing to try anything to keep her thoughts from making her nauseous again. Nausea was beginning to rise in stomach as she fully awakened.

Stretching her arms and legs outward, her arms scrapped against a gritty hard tile floor instead of being cushioned by soft clothing. She quickly sat up and was facing the front door.

Didn't even make it to the room. Is it still there.

She put her hand in her hair, pulled a few strands out and saw that it was mostly white hair with black edges.

“Damn it!” she shouted, throwing the hair in the air.

“Shudaup! I'm tryin to sleep, here!” Burnt yelled. “Whatcha doin there anyways? Either get to ya room or leave!”

“What's it to ya! Mind your own!” she yelled back. She stood up and had put one foot in the living room before she remembered her white hair.

Shit. Can't let him see me like this.

She took a few steps back, stretched her back leg, set her eyes on the garbage mound that was hiding the stairway behind it and ran forward. Jumping over the occasional discarded can or wrapper, she sprinted across the room, missing a food can that was thrown at her.

“What's with you! Coulda hit me. Stupid bitch!” he coughed out.

She collapsed in the doorway of her room after making it to the top stair. She allowed herself a few moments of heavy breathing before lifting herself off the ground again. Stumbling into her room, she went straight for the cabinet and shuffled through it for her bag of face paints. She found her bag and dropped it in front of her mirror. She held her breath and slowly looked up to see how far the white spread. She pulled at the white handful of hair that covered the entire top half of her head as if she about to rip it off. She glanced inside the face paint bag at her small collection of jars and dishes, picked up the darkest vial and examined it in the mirror.

There's not enough to cover it all. I jus needa go to the paint store and It'll be alright. No need to get worked up.

She kicked through her cloth pile, looking for something long enough to to hide her head. Eventually she found a long tattered orange scarf that she tried to wrap several times around her head until finally all the white hair was hidden. After checking putting her money bag in her right boot, she walked out of her room and back to the living room where her father was holding tightly to a empty food can.

“Why you have that rag on you head?”

She ignore him and walked across the living room, keeping her eye on the door.

“Not gonna say anythin to me. Your ears clogged? Betcha hear dis!”

He launched the can at her, but she had moved fast enough that it hit the wall behind her.

“Damn it! Come an see me!” he yelled as she left the house.

She stood by the door for a few moments allowing the rage to drain out of her body before she made another move.

Calm, girl. I can't lose it, now. I can't. What if I break down again?

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down then jogged into the street. Keeping her head down as she avoided the other passerbyers, she ran down block by block hoping to not to be spotted by any familiar faces.