#omen writes

she stares at herself in the shitty motel bathroom mirror with a pair of old kitchen scissors in hand, white knuckles gripping them like their her life preserver in a sea of her own reflection she realized she doesnt recognize. her gaze trails lines across her features, peeling them up in her mind to fully see them for the first time. her bright hazel green eyes smudged with black eyeliner she made herself put on this morning. following down her lightly freckled nose to her lined and glossed lips she had to keep applying after constantly wiping it off. and then her hair. the damned amber hair that falls in waves well past her shoulders, faming all her face like the pretty little picture she is. shes reminded of all the moments her dad praised her for being his "perfect pretty little girl" by painting her face up and growing her hair out. she's beautiful, and it makes her sick to her stomach. her hands tremble and heart hammers in her chest as the familiar burn behind her eyes begins to settle. because behind the caked on makeup and made-up locs, is a woman whos broken and tired and really really sick of seeing herself in the mirror as what she is right now. the perfect pretty girl… with a sharp breath in through clenched teeth, she grips a chuck of hair and slices the scissors through it right next to her ear with a satisfying shnick. she follows the locs as they fall limp in her hands and doesnt dare look back into her reflection. the world around her spins and she feels like collapsing right then and there, but then an unfamiliar feeling raises deep within her chest and up into her neck, forcing her too finally look up and see the carnage. the missing chuck looks awful and out of place on her full head of hair, but theres not panic or regret. no fear or shame. just this strange sense of anticipation and desire. the tears finally begin streaming down her cheeks, taking leftover liner with them as she take another sizable chunk of hair in her hands behind the gap and saws the scissor through it, slower this time, savoring the sweet sounds of disconnection echoing of the bathroom walls. cut after cut, more hair falls to the tiled floors to join her tears. before she realizes, the majority of the mass of her hiar is gone, laying rejected on the floor by her feet. she stares at herself and the mess shes made of her hair. its ugly and choppy and completely disorienting to see around her features she can finally see clearly for the first time. her face is more square then she had thought it was, her jawline more refined and freckles more prominent now not hiding behind the heavy curtains of her hair. she's expecting the floods of disgust and disbelief but they never come. instead the unfamiliar feeling only grows. its warm and tight in her chest and makes her feel light on her feet. pride she realizes. freedom. freedom from the weight she'd unknowingly been carrying around her entire life, both physically and emotionally. freedom from the idea of perfection and standard. freedom from herself in the form she used to take. the twisted objectified beyond competition thing she used to be. but now, all she see is her puffy, glassy eyes stained w eyeliner, her nose, her lips she realizes bitten and scrubbed raw under the gloss. she see a woman. a person. and watches as she sees that person's lips curl up into a small sad smile, then grows to show teeth and huff out one laughter filled sob after another. shes free…

...

later after returning to the motel, Sam finds her leaned against the bathroom door after opening it and causing her to spill out onto the floor at Sam's feet. "heya Sammy" she croaks, throat obviously raw from prolonged sobs. sam just stares for a moment, taking in the scene; her sister covered in her rejected hair with eyeliner tracks stained into her cheeks and a wide grin on her face. Sam scoffs, shaking her head but still lands herself with a similar smile to match her sister's. "girl… what-- I dont even-- I--" Sam stammers, lost to what she should say. eventually she gives up and just looks into her sisters eyes with a warm smile. "feels good, doesnt it?" with that, tears trace lines down her sisters face again and she weakly nods her head. Sam's on her knees to scoop her sister up in her arms instantly. her sister shakes with each sob into her shoulder as sam rubs soothing circles into her back, her own eye beginning to burn and water. eventually, sam whispers "need help cleaning up?" into her ear, expecting to be met with denial, but instead she feels a small nod and a wave of relief washes over sam. as her sister goes the grab an old tee shirt to use as a broom, sam finds the scissors she must have used and flips them around in her hands, wishing she wouldve been her when she used them, but knowing better that this was important for her sister to do on her own. when she returns, sam gets a full glance at the new version her sister shes created, and cringes slightly after taking in the mess on her head. sam stops her before leaning over to clean, "girl i love you but please let me help with…" and gestures to her head. they both giggle and sam leads them into the bathroom again. and about 15 minutes later with a pair of scissors that arent covered in rust, the mess of choppy, uneven hair has reduced to a short shag cut that could still use some work but is miles better than before. "so? how bout it?" sam ask as her sister runs her fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp, eyes full of pride and wonder. finally thier eyes connect, and she shrugs. "it's ight" she fakes indifference, but and underlying 'thank you' laces through the words that sam has learned to pick up on over the years, so she grins and wraps her arms around her sister for a quick, tight hugs before grabbing the shirt to start cleaning up.

for the next few week after that night, sam catches her sister gazing at herself in the mirror more often with a smile, one that she'd never seen before. small but genuine, happy. she also notices she doesnt wear her usual think liner and gloss anymore, only uses the bathroom for about 10 minutes in the morning to brush her teeth and wash her face and thats all. and sam notices that she glows with more confidence than ever before. theres no anxious fidgeting of her hair, or constant glances around her at anyone who could be watching. a waitress called her pretty at the breakfast diner as they ordered and instead of the usual awkward side-ways glance and chuckle, she looked her in the eyes and thanked her with a bright smile. and sam cant help but mirror her smile when she notices these things, because shes finally seeing her sister as she should be. comfortable, confident, content, and so so beautiful.