By Kelly P. Miller
Rory’s posture slouched as she eyed the gnarled clump of hair trying to find its way through the tiny drain holes in the tub. It was far too copious for fine-textured hair. No. Standing with a hand mirror in front of the vanity mirror confirmed a wide gap in length visible between her shoulders. Rory gently grasped sharp styling scissors high on a shelf. She directed them at the long lingering side strands. Taking deep breaths, her fingers in the circles carefully opening the blades; they shut with a fierce snap. The blood flowed thick and rich down her back. Luxuriantly.
Very deep stuff! Excellent story. I look forward to reading more from you!