Half Dead

"Hey pretty girl." are the first words out of his mouth.

I want to punch him in his mouth.

"I was just getting to know your mom." 

I stare at him with what I think is a scowl. He keeps smiling. He must like it.

"Violet, honey, are okay?" my mom calls out; she sees my face.

That stupid boy's smile drops. He's looking at me clearly.

I put a hand to my face and notice that my mouth had bundled up in a frown and my chin is sucked in, I'm holding in the biggest tears of my life. 

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I shake my head, I nudge his arm so I can into the car. He moves out the way, and he let's out a small gasp. I get into the car, buckle myself in and pull my knees up.

"Her hair." the stupid boy sputters.

My mom, I can't see her face, but she puts a hand to my destroyed, chewy hair. She gasps loudly, I hide my face into my knees and keep the tears in. 

Don't cry. Don't cry -is what repeats over and over in my head.

"Violet, what happened?" the stupid boy whispers in my ear.

I don't say anything. I don't write anything.

"Violet?" my mom coos.

I drop my knees and grab my bag from the floor. I get my notebook and marker and write: GLORIA DID IT. I DIDN'T DIE THAT'S WHY SHE DID IT. PLEASE TAKE ME HOME

My mom sighs; "I'm gonna take you to the hair dressers first."

I keep my head down, pull my knees up and wait. 

"Gloria did it?" the stupid boy whispers, I think it's to himself.

"Frankie, it was nice seeing you again." my mom says sadly.

"Yeah, I'll see you, Mrs. Graber." he doesn't leave yet, I feel his presence, "See ya, Vi."

My mom drives away, she doesn't speak. I know she wants to talk, I feel the awkward radiating off her body. As the drive progresses my tears sink back in and I feel heavy and hurt still, but I put my knees down. I look out the window, keeping my head from the head rest. I watch the strip mall appear minutes later; my mom pulls in and parks right in front of an upscale salon.

It's her salon. The one she frequents. The one that makes her hair look so silky and smell so nice.

"We'll fix this, honey." she says and we get out.

My only thought is: kill me now.

She takes my hand and leads me inside. The place smells like my mom does every three weeks. I like it, it's very comforting.

The salon is a bit quiet, with snippets of clippers and gossip. A man comes over, obviously homosexual; "Hello Melinda! Back so soon?" he man has dyed pink hair and lines shaved on the sides; he looks at me and smiles.

My mom squeezes my hand, "Actually, Erik, this visit is for my daughter," she looks at me with an apologetic glance, "She had some trouble at school today... A girl put gum in her hair."

Erik gasps, "Oh no!"

"Yes," she exasperated, "We need help with fixing it."

Erik nods, "Follow me."

My mom leads the way, still holding my hand. Erik sits me in a chair by a big mirror; he looks over the wad in my hair; "This is tough." he hums.

"I'm hoping we won't have to cut it, if it's avoidable." my mom cringes at her own words.

"I can get most of it out..." Erik trails, "but it'll take a while for it to come out naturally. Let me get my things, sit tight hun!"

Erik skips away, and my mom puts her hand on my shoulder, "He knows that you're mute. I told him... Y'know I come here to let off steam sometimes."

I know she does. She has the salon and my dad as golf. I have books... And self loathing.

I tug her arm and she looks at me; I make the motion to text and she hands me her iPhone. I open up the notes app and type beneath her grocery list; CUT IT OFF ALL OF IT

Her brows knit, "Violet, that's crazy!"

I shrug, and keep her phone. I show it to Erik when he comes back, complaining that he doesn't have this certain type of oil. He gasps, "Are you sure?"

I nod, and my mom puts her hand on my scarred forearm, "Violet, you can't want that."

I nod again, then type; JUST DO IT

Erik sighs, then tells me to follow him to the shampoo station.


My dad's jaw nearly hits the floor when he sees me. Me in my collar prep shirt and cardigan. My already short hair is even shorter. I'm bordering on being completely bald. None of it's below my ears; it's all cut to my scalp.

I look like a boy and I don't care.

"Violet... You..." he's at a loss for words.

I grab his brief case, then the note pad and write; I FEEL BETTER BUT IM GOING TO HAVE A CRY IN MY ROOM NOW, I AM FULL

My parents just look at me as I head up the stairs and to my room. I toss my bag on the floor and get on my bed, kicking my shoes off and then my cardigan. I unbutton my collar shirt, toss it, skirt is tossed and I'm in just my underwear, lying on my bed.

I get choked up as I cry, trying to really sob. I want noise. I open my mouth and try to force it out, but it won't come. I try so hard I get a headache and sore throat. I give up and pull a pillow beneath my head and finger the wrinkle lines on my comforter.

My dad is making his way up to my room, or possibly the bathroom. No, my room. He stops at the threshold; "Violet, are you okay?" 

I shake my head no.

"May I come in?" he asks; I nod, "I think you should put on clothes, honey."

I shake my head no again.

"Why not?"

I grab the little notepad by my bedside table and pen; NO ONE IS AROUND LET ME BE NAKED

I know what he's thinking. It's too obvious.

"It's just that... You were naked when..."

I throw the notepad at my dresser where he's standing and I get up. I go to it, rip open the bottom drawer and pull out a night gown. I put it on and model mockingly for him.

He sighs, "Violet, I know you're angry -we all are- but you shouldn't take it out on me."

I shake my head and go back to my bed and pull the pillow beneath my head again. My dad comes and sits on my bed behind me; "I'm sorry about what Gloria did."

Me, too. It's all mom's fault for finding me. I should've died.

"You can't let those girls break you down." 

I turn my head and look at him. I put my hand up and point to the threshold, meaning for him to get out. I then pull the pillow over my head and shield my ears and eyes from anything else.