Work Text:
They said, “Hair holds memories,” and Elizabeth couldn’t agree more.
Staring at her own reflection—seeing the heavy eye bags sagging under her green eyes—it was all too much a reminder to her of who she once was; strong on the surface, but terrified underneath. Of course, she hid that bottom layer deep inside, and she did it very well, too. Fear was a sign of weakness, it seemed. She was already so powerless, being stuck in a house with her father, Lawrence, for her entire life. Especially once her mom, Adena, lost custody of her. Lawrence made her feel weak. Anything that showed more was revolting in her mind. Yet, she wanted to forget that feeling. Every time she saw her own reflection, her hands clenched. It was a visceral reaction. She wanted to punch the mirror, shattering it into millions of little shards. Maybe then she could alter what the mirror showed. Maybe then she could be pleased with the woman staring directly at her, even if it was just her own reflection.
However, Elizabeth would be lying if she denied what the root cause was. It was her long hair. She had long hair most, if not all, of her life. All of the photos she saw from her childhood had the same haircut; blonde hair resting at her elbows. It kept Elizabeth warm when times were cold, but most importantly, it was long enough to hide things that the public would be disgusted to see. It was like her own security blanket. Even that comparison made her shudder because there was nothing safe about it. It was more like Lawrence’s security blanket, hiding what happened inside the Payne household. Another reason she never cut it was the fear of her father’s judgment. Every time she thought about it, she could picture her father’s comment.
“So, you’re a full dyke now?”
Now, Elizabeth was at college at a local but prestigious law school. Lawrence wouldn’t be the first person to see her hair. He wouldn’t be the first to comment on it, filling her with regret and shame. She had “left from the nest,” as some parents would say. She was free, but was she truly? It was still a local college, meaning she’d have to see her father again during breaks. Sadly, that’s how it always was. Maybe one day he’d die brutally in a car accident. Elizabeth hoped to God that was the case, but if she admitted that, that would definitely be a reason she’d go to hell. To be fair, Lawrence was going there, too, right? Religion was always a headache.
As her thoughts ran rampant, Elizabeth turned away from the mirror and out of the bathroom. She scanned the area for scissors or something sharp to get the job done. It was finally time for her to let go. She noticed some scissors resting in the kitchen knife block. Maybe unhygienic to use kitchen scissors for this kind of job, but with some water and soap, it’ll be good as new. It had to be done, anyway. “Now or never,” as people said.
Elizabeth stood at the sink again. Glancing up hesitantly, she saw her reflection. She flinched, scowling as all of her childhood memories flooded back to her. Some good, most bad.
“Why is your hair always so long?” It was a memory of a little girl asking her a question. The girl was one of Elizabeth’s childhood friends, named Kate.
“I like it long.” Elizabeth simply answered. She had been threatened by her father before if she ever mentioned what happened. Even her mom silently agreed. Elizabeth didn’t understand. Adena constantly taking punches because her very young daughter was healthy enough to remain silent? Nowadays, she knows why: fear.
Kate tilted her head. “Why?”
“It makes me feel warm inside.”
“Are you always cold?” Kate asked genuinely, although bluntly.
“No. It’s just nice, you know?”
“I guess…” She shrugged. “I used to have my hair long, but summer was always so hot, and my hair made it hotter. Don’t you have that happen?”
“Yeah, but I just put it in a ponytail.”
The girl’s eyes lit up. “You can do your own ponytail?”
“Yeah, I had to learn.”
“Can you teach me? Please, please, please!” She blinked her eyes repeatedly, begging Elizabeth.
Elizabeth chuckled. “Sure. It’s not hard.”
Kate didn’t seem to pick up on what “had” meant. To be fair, both of them were third graders, plus it wasn’t her fault. However, Elizabeth learned how to put her hair in a ponytail from the internet since her parents never seemed to have time to teach her, mostly because of work and overall exhaustion. Honestly, most skills she learned from the internet. Sure, work was hard. It sounded hard as a kid and jobs aren’t easy, but they chose to have a child, just to let that child learn life skills from a random person posting a video on how to do PEMDAS.
Elizabeth shook her head, trying to bury the thoughts that stuck to her mind like glue. She gazed at the scissors. They were sharp and would definitely do damage. This was it, her last chance to turn back. Elizabeth held out her arm, gripping her hair, preparing to feel the impact. She took a deep breath.
Snip!
A lengthy bundle of her thick hair rested in her hand. Her green eyes darted to the mirror. Her hair was completely uneven now. Her right side was short, around her neck, versus her left side, which was still by her elbow.
It’s too late to turn back. Elizabeth sighed, raising the scissors to her hair.
“Shut the hell up!” A memory flashed through her mind. It was of her mom, Adena, snapping at her after Elizabeth followed her mom to check up on her. Adena had just been hit in the nose. Blood trickled down her nose as a result of the impact. Elizabeth was only five. She vaguely remembered how her mom paused, then looked away, muttering, “Just go to your room, Elizabeth.”
Snip!
“Do you see how Adena didn’t even want to say goodbye to you?” Another memory flashed through her mind. It was right after Lawrence won custody of her. “If I were in her shoes, I’d say goodbye,” Elizabeth remembered how Lawrence whispered that sentence into her ear, seemingly villainizing Adena, as if her mom had a choice. Unfortunately, those words gave her conflicting feelings about her mom at the time. Did Adena truly not care about her only child?
Snip!
“Elizabeth, I know you. You aren’t one of those queers.” Another memory. This time, it was after her father caught her kissing her girlfriend, forcefully outing her. She never wanted to come out, to be quite frank, but the secret was out, and Lawrence was obviously livid. He and Adena always seemed to be disgusted by gay people simply existing. “I don’t want you talking to that thing again.”
Snip! Snip!
“She’s fucking useless, Adena.”
Snip!
“She’s twelve, for God’s sake, Lawrence!” Adena scoffed. “I know damn well you weren’t some Einstein at that age either.”
Another memory. This was right before her parents’ divorce. She overheard all of the conversation, although she didn’t want to. Her door was closed, but it could still be heard, clear as day. Tears welled in her eyes. She wiped them; hopefully, they wouldn’t land and stain her homework.
“I’m not talking about school.”
Snip! Snip!
“Then what the hell are you talking about? Hm?”
“Don’t use that tone with me, Adena.”
Snip! Snip! Snip!
“Oh, my tone’s the problem?”
Snip! Snip!
All she heard was a slap. A loud one. Then, there was only silence.
Snip! Snip! Snip!
An eternity passed before she heard Adena’s yell.“That’s it! I’m fucking done with you and your bullshit! I’m leaving, and I’m taking Elizabeth with me.”
Snip!
The final strand was cut. Blonde hair littered the bathroom floor with a few strands attached to the kitchen scissors. She panted, keeping her eyes focused on the sink’s drain. Her panting made it seem like cutting her hair was similar to a workout, but it was just anxiety from all of the flashbacks. That seemed to happen a lot, even if it was “just in her head.”
Elizabeth’s body shook with her heart pounding loudly and rapidly in her chest. She was terrified to look up at herself. What if she made it worse? What would Lawrence think once she saw her? What if… What if…
I’m done. She bit her lip with determination, although the fear wasn’t completely gone. This is my life, not his. Her eyes slowly peered up at her reflection. She gasped as her green eyes widened. Her hair’s length was now only halfway down her neck, significantly shorter. It was messily cut, probably because Elizabeth never learned how to cut her hair evenly. To be fair, she never cut her hair more than two inches, even at any haircuttery. Yet, its messiness had a sort of charm she adored. She felt around her face, as if something had changed there. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring her vision. Maybe it was stupid to some that she was crying over a haircut. However, her long hair was like chains; chains of attempting to be a perfect daughter, but that same daughter would be left bruised behind closed doors, no matter what she did. The way Lawrence scolded her created the feeling that she was a failure in everything she attempted to do. Every single outing wasn’t “good enough” in his eyes. “Too quiet,” “Not polite enough,” “overly sensitive,” the list goes on. If Elizabeth were forced to list it all, it’d take months, at least, with a lot of stuttering from trying to remember them all.
Now, that “security blanket” of hair is gone. Its remnants lay on the floor. She was free, metaphorically at least. She was no longer hiding in the image of a “perfect daughter,” nor what Lawrence envisions the mold of his daughter to be. This was her life. Her father never gave two shits about her anyway, so why the hell did she care?
It’s because I’m a better person. She thought, slightly arrogantly. Every time she admired her reflection, it was like her confidence rose with each glance. This is it. This is who she was, what she wanted to look like. She didn’t feel the burning hatred when she once had viewed her reflection, that oh-so intense, yet draining reminder of her childhood, and failed attempts at perfection for love. Her hair held onto those memories, being trapped in Lawrence’s house for eighteen years, and now the hair rotted below her, just like how the memories should.