Page 243 of Satan's Spawn
I expected it to be bright…but notthisbright.
I’m…pleasantly surprised.
It adds an edge I didn’t realize I needed.
“Soooooo?” Hendrix beams from behind me, fluffing my orange, drasticallyshorterhair.
“This was more than a little cut, Hen.” I glower at her through the mirror. “My hair was down to my waist, dude.”
And now it’s barely below my chest.
“Girl, if anything needed to go on that head…it was those dead ends.”
I smile, unable to deny how much lighter I feel…both literally and figuratively.
I no longer see the Rebecca Dawson who was so afraid of her disorder she had to maintain perfection with everything. Instead I see a wild, free, fiery Bex, who’s been trying to claw her way to the surface for years.
“You think Crayton will like it?” She asks, adding some texturizer spray to the ends.
I swallow, suddenly feeling nervous. “I mean, how could he not? Imagine having to stare at the doppelganger of your abuser every day?”
Hendrix lifts a shoulder. “Well, regardless, all that matters is you like it.” She pauses…waiting. “So, do you?”
My face widens into a cheeky grin, and then I’m squealing, “I fucking love it!”
Hendrix bellows out a squeal too, which is followed by us jumping up and down in a hug.
A series of heavy knocks comes from the door, making us settle into chuckles.
“Open up miladies! This Y chromosome wants to cheer with the X’s!”
Archer.
“Let him in,” I instruct Hendrix as I make my way over to the mess of hair on the floor, bending down to pick some up.
When the door opens Archer’s scream is so loud I end up screaming too—throwing the hair in my hands back to the floor as I crawl away from whatever rodent I assume he saw.
“What the fuck?!” I shriek, jumping to my feet. “What happened?”
“You tell me!” He points to my hair. “Did we get thrown in the same washing machine or something?”
I chuckle, reaching for my hair. “Oh, yeah. Hendrix gave me a dye and cut.”
“A dye and cut?” He mocks me through areally?look. “More like a teen-life crisis.”
My lips form a pout. “You don’t like it?”
“I do not.” He folds his arms, all serious.
I’m bunching strands in my hands when he adds, “I fucking love it!”
Archer pulls me in for a squeeze. “If you wanted to be twinsies all you had to do was say so, I’d have us at Saks in no time.”
I push him off and sigh. “As much as I’d love to go on a shopping spree with you, Arch, that was not the method behind my madness.”
“Do tell…” He taps a fresh pair of Yeezys against the wood floor.
“Let’s just say I needed the change.”
