Poison Ivy

Chapter Ten: Andy Fuckin' Biersack

- Hey, I apologise for the late update and I hate making excuses, though mine are pretty valid seeing as my mum had to go back into hospital just last wednesday for another operation. Hopefully that was the last she needs but she'll be starting some radiotherapy treatment at some point in the near future and to top that off we're now on the homeless list so yeah, things aren't exactly peachy but I'll try hard to keep up to date with this story, I don't want it to end up like every other one I've written and not finished and even though I've not been online I have been a busy bee on the writing front - I wrote this chapter a while ago, hence it's shortness, but my recent chapters have been reaching just over 2k words, so yeah. Also, I'm not writing a note afterwards because I'm lazy, so I'll cram all my life into this here note... sorry for rambling. I'M GETTING A NEW LAPTOP, IT'S LIKE... A WALK-AWAY FROM BEING IN MY HANDS AND I'M EXCITED BECAUSE THIS ONE IS ON IT'S LAST LEGS AND JUST BLEH, EVERYONE SHOULD NOW BE PARTYING, YES? YES. Now, to put an end to your celebrations - I don't have internet access unless I count college (sixth form) or my gran's house, which I don't... so yeah, that sucks. Okay, well I think that's all you need to know, oh, other than the fact that in two days time I'm back to college (sixth form) and I'll be sitting mock exams which hopefully won't affect updates, but yeah, that's it. ENJOY! ~Talia. xoxo.

PS. The upcoming reasoning for hacking his hair and the bitter ex girlfriend are not true to life - just in case there are newbie army members reading this and that wasn't clear to you. -

I washed my face bare of war paint, revealing the man beneath. That man was a guy I wasn't entirely sure I liked. I mean ... he was fucking vulnerable. So god damned vulnerable and extremely naïve and young, yet he was normal. And if he had stood up now, just as he had all those years in 2006, nobody would fucking notice. His opinion would be worth jack shit, but, give him a voice that could actually sound decent screaming down a microphone, some make-up, tattoos, piercings, bad ass black leather clothes and a scowl and suddenly everyone wanted to have their nose in his business. Ah, first world problems.

I pulled off my black tank top, discarding it on the floor along with my shoes and socks. I would have gone full frontal. Might have even taken a photo and sent it to Poison Ivy just to get her all hot and bothered. I mean, I'd managed to wrangle her cell number out of the red haired receptionist using a charming smile and a whole lot of persuasion. Turns out I'm quite good at the old persuading thing.

I'd been thinking about her all day. And so had the man downstairs. I swear, if I hadn't known she was such an awesome lay, I would have considered his fixation on her unhealthy and somewhat exaggerated.

What was I even doing? Apart from thinking about a girl, thinking explicit things about that girl, having a 'deep' moment and undressing? Nothing. Not really. I grabbed a fistful of my hair, crinkling because of the hairspray. Poison had run her hands through it, doing much the same thing.

And suddenly it needed to be gone, along with the control that was given to Poison when she had tugged at it.

I went into the bathroom, hunting out and successfully finding the scissors, and then the clippers. And I set to work, sitting on the edge of the bath tub, gripping the lengthier side of my hair in my hand and –

Hacking. Just ... taking chunk after chunk out, black locks falling at my feet. And when that was done, and the sides were a torn, ragged mess, and the middle stood rumpled upright, I flicked the clippers on, the buzz feeling welcome and dangerous in my palm.

I cleaned up the mess of hair as best I could, doing a pretty decent job of it.

Once I'd finished tidying up the sides, I ended the buzzing of the clippers, placing them to the side.

I looked at the even more unfamiliar man reflected within the mirror, tugging lightly at the top of my hair as my feet padded lightly in the hair that blanketed the floor.

It was a change. Somewhat drastic, but I'd get used to it, just as everyone else would have to. I just couldn't give her anything over me...

When I had met my first girlfriend my hair had been admittedly a little longer, though in one of our fights she had casually dropped in her opinion, telling me it had looked stupid, her tone had been bitter and I presumed she was looking for anything to use against me at the time because now, and I do try not to be vain though it doesn't seem so, it looked good.

Squaring my shoulders and giving the mirror my most charming smile, I thought to myself I am going to rock this.

Because I'm Andy Fuckin' Biersack.    

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