Page 30 of Into the Light

“Yeah, it’s been a hard year.” This was the phrase Santiago and I had come up with to deter people from asking more questions.

“I can’t believe you actually came back to Isles. To what? Wreak more havoc on the Den?” I blinked a couple times, trying not to cry, but the girl kept going. “Hear you’ve been getting cozy with the best friend? You going to have your brother kill him too?”

“What the—”

“Wait here while the foils lighten.” She walked away to the back room, leaving me blinking my tears away.Don’t cry. Don’t cry.I refused to let anyone else in the salon see she was getting a reaction from me.

Sitting at the chair underneath a large blow dryer, waiting as my hair lightened, I texted Marissa.

Ember:

Remind me to never get my hair done here by Tana again.

Then I tried a technique my therapist had suggested when I became flooded with emotions. Searching for five objects, I named them, then smelled five distinct smells, then touched five items around me. It helped ground me and prevent the panic from taking over.

After I had gone through my grounding technique, Tana had come by, moved the hair dryer, and brought me over to the bowl.

She gave me the quickest and most aggressive shampoo while she talked to another hairstylist.

“Yeah, I cannot believe nobody checked the schedule before allowing her here.”

“I didn’t realize until this morning, yuck.”

“Ha. You’ll see what she’s getting.”

It was just soundbites of what I could hear through the water sloshing around the bowl. She threw a towel on my head and brought me over to the station where I sat in front of the mirror again.

She looked down at me, a sly smile creeping on her face. “You ready to see your big reveal?”

“Totally.” She was a professional, there was no way she was going to—

“What the fuck did you do?” I screamed, jumping from the chair and running my hands through my wet hair.

Even though my hair was damp, it was streaked with large chunky highlights everywhere. It was nowhere near the natural look I had asked for. I hated it.

I hated it so much tears rushed from my eyes, as I was unable to keep them at bay this time. I didn’t realize how much sadness and anger an unwelcome hair style could make you feel. All I wanted was to feel better about myself. I was trying so hard to patch myself back together, and that ripped everything apart.

“Why did you do this?” I looked at the hairstylist who stood stoically behind the chair, her hands gripping to the back. At this point, I didn’t give a flying fuck that every person in here was staring at us. I was so upset. This was the exact reason I didn’t leave the house. It was exactly what I had hoped wouldn’t happen.

“The natural look you wanted just wasn’t going to frame your face well, so the chunky highlights—”

“But this isn’t what I asked for. I just wanted something small.” I wanted to crawl into my skin. Everyone at the salon was silent. I searched around desperately and could see Santiago crossing the street from the large window in front of me. The curtain was behind us, separating us from the front area, but passersby could still see through. The moment we locked eyes, I knew he saw the tears falling like a freaking waterfall down my face.

“No one at the Den wants you in Isles anymore. You’re ruining the entire organization,” Tana barked, and everyone turned their heads in our direction. When I noticed someone pulling out their phone to record this interaction, I decided to eat my words and take the high road.

I threw a twenty at her, then started to walk out of the salon.

Tana protested, “You underpaid me.” I couldn’t help but let out a crazed laugh, the frustration and sabotage from this woman getting to me.

Santiago looked at me but said nothing, simply taking my hand as we walked down the street. He removed his hat and handed it to me.

Outside, I put my still-wet hair up into the cap, not wanting to risk getting sick from the damp air. I looked up at Santiago, still in shock from the ordeal.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” I began, feeling a heavy weight pressing down on my chest, the disappointment overwhelming.

“What happened?” Santiago asked.

“I asked for a natural hairstyle, and then she started talking about Ash, blaming me and telling me I needed to leave,” I rambled on, choking on my sobs. I sat on the grimy curb, hugging my knees. “She then added these horrible highlights in my hair as some sort of revenge.”

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