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I stare at the mirror, for the first time looking at myself. Really looking. The plain black tee hugs me, showcasing my flat chest. Once rich, dark brown hair is now thinned and dry, hanging around my shoulders. I look awful. Defeated. Broken. Dead.
Click.
The beanie slips from my fingers.
Click.
I grab the scissors and bring them to my hair.
Click.
I make the first cut as a tear slides down my cheek.
Click.
I cut strand after strand as more tears fall down until all my hair is chopped as close to the scalp as possible.
Click. Click. Click.
Placing the scissors on the counter, I go to the camera, shifting the angle so it’s facing me. I can see the screen reflected in the mirror. Making sure the angle is right, I pull out the clippers from the box and turn it on. The soft buzzing fills the quiet bathroom.
I look right at the camera as I bring it to the top of my head.
Click.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
PRESCOTT
“Where the hell were you this morning?” Nixon hisses as he slides into the seat across from me.
“Can you lower your fucking voice?” I rub at my temples, but it doesn’t stop the ache behind them. “My head is fucking killing me.”
Nixon narrows his eyes at me. “Are you—”
“Hungover?” Spencer supplies. “Oh, yeah. I think he drank the whole bottle of Jack by himself. You should be grateful he’s only hungover. For a while there, I thought I’d have to take him to the ER to have his stomach pumped. Thankfully, at about three, he started to throw up all by himself. Lucky me, huh?”
“What the fuck, dude?”
I let out a groan, “Quiet. You know what that means, right?”
“You should have thought about that before you drank your weight in alcohol. It’s all your damn fault,” Spencer mutters, biting off half of his burger.
My stomach rolls uncomfortably at the smell of all the food around me. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“If Coach finds out about this, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Do I look like I care?” I snap, gritting my teeth. The throbbing behind my temples intensifies.
Dammit, why the hell did I think coming here was a good idea?
Between the noises, my nosy friends, the smells… God those smells.
Nixon glares at me. “What the hell’s your problem? We’re playing in the freaking playoffs in a matter of days, and you’re getting drunk and missing practice?”
“I don’t remember needing to explain myself to you,” I bite back, shoving to my feet only to come to a halt when I see her.
Jade’s walking with Grace and Marcus through the cafeteria, and something one of them says makes her laugh. An actual, deep belly laugh, loud enough that I can hear it all the way here, awakening that ache in my heart. I don’t remember the last time I heard her actually laugh.
