Love You From The Scalp To The Ends

Chapter Six

As Harriet made her way back to her strand, she felt like a globe has gotten off her back. She still dragged her feet in a morose feeling but she did feel lighter. The wise words of Nita scrambled through her mind but one major thought stayed. "Remember Harriet, I am a firm believer in any type of love as long as it is consensual."

Did this mean that Harriet shouldn't be ashamed, fearful, or isolated? For so long she felt as if she was a piece of dandruff on the tips of the hair, instead of the scalp. In her own secluded area, scratched off, unwanted, even picked at. She always believed, since the first day of training, that the field was no place for love. Certainly not this type of love.

She would often get the expected blush when a cute teammate touches her exoskeleton, but she wouldn't realize that no one else had the same reaction. The day she noticed was the day she swore to demolish all of those unacceptable feelings. But dismissing her feelings wasn't going to make them vanish. Harriet started noticing all of her teammates flirting with the ticks, quickly adapting to the ideology that announces that only parasites of different species are allowed to fall in love.

With her thoughts taking a short hiatus, Harriet began to focus more on getting home to later examine her freshly accepted identity crisis. Short legs trudging along dead skin and attempting to keep grounded across the ground, which was slippery with grease. Her attention was quickly grasped by a bloodcurdling scream headed east.

Only one thought was brought up, it could've been anything. It could've been a nurse, lice-eliminating shampoo, or a hairdryer. Yet, the only thing that Harriet could think of should've been the last. Fleah. Without a moment to acquire a thought of any logical procedure to do during an emergency, Harriet sprinted towards the alleged mishap.

Her assumed pulses were beating so hard that her exoskeleton was almost broken out. Approaching the catastrophe, Harriet could finally come to face disasters that would break down hell's pits itself. A sharp, thick brush was combing across the impure head of hair, quickly severing the heads, legs, antennas and torsos of her fellow lice. Unholy shrieks and wails soured the strengths of Harriet's feeble ears. Sights of her lost teammates, sisters as described by the superiors, grazed across her eyes as if it were an ongoing nightmare that she will continue viewing as she sleeps like a dormant volcano. She didn't want reality to bleed through the suspension of disbelief in the worst film of her life.

Fear crept up Harriet's throat. Fleah could be any one of them. Without any time to let her reflexes receive the message, Harriet began sprinting towards the instrument that plays the songs of mass funerals. "FLEAH", Harriet continuously screeched, even when her throat grew raw from the functions of her diaphragm turning inside out.

As Harriet opened her eyes from a face-scrunching call, her heart dropped low. The brush, dark, rough and quick had a bristle approaching Harriet. The device was preparing to permanently sever the minuscule louse when she darted towards an opening. Feeling as if it was in slow motion, Harriet ran through the grim tunnel heading east as the evil torture ran through the west. In a matter of seconds, she made it into the light, calling out for her lost one.

While losing her voice, Harriet looked across the disastrous ruins. The dead, dismembered and aid scattered along the scene. Her hearing pented up towards her head, leaving no room in her ears as more screaming, crying and catastrophe from behind continued to flood. Suddenly only one familiar scream made her breath dissolve.

"HARRIET?"