Not So Different

Chapter 26

Locks of blonde, matted hair fell to the white linoleum floor and a woman in a white lab coat hacked at my head.  I sat as still as a statue, fearing that if I fidgeted she would accidentally nick my ears or the side of my face.  She clipped here and there shearing off hair until I wondered if I had any hair left.  When the lab coat woman turned away I tentatively reached up a hand to my hair and found that it was cut short like a pixie cut.  I shuddered.  I mean I was glad not to have matted, nasty hair but I wasn't thrilled about having nearly no hair. 

The woman came back and leaned my hospital like seat back and began spraying water through my hair.  The woman made a tsking noise.  "Such pretty hair.  It is a shame it all had to be cut off because of the mats." 

"Oh yeah," I said sarcastically, relishing the feeling of warm water running through my short hair.  I had already been forced to take a shower in a white tiled little box of a room but the water had been frigid.  "I really wished we could have been able to untangle it.  I had really wanted my hair to be long and pretty for my execution."  I heard my two personal guard shift by the doorway of our little salon slash torture room. 

"Yes, well, it does look quite nice short," The woman said, sounding uncomfortable.  So she was uneasy at my mention of dying.  Interesting.  I decided to twist the proverbial knife a little. 

"Can you give me carmel brown low lights too?"  I asked in an innocent voice.  "I hear darker tones look nice against red blood splatters."  I saw the woman stiffen and I fealt a little bad about making her uncomfortable but I got over it.  She was part of the group that would be watching their beloved leader give the order to kill Chris and I tomorrow. 

"Um, yeah we can do that," The woman told me and I almost laughed at her nervous voice.  She stopped the water then flicked on a blow dryer.  It only took a couple minutes to dry my little bit of hair.  "Let's see, this color should do nicely," The woman said picking up a little container of hair dye.  I could see what she did with it but I felt her messing with a few short strands of my hair.  I assumed she was brushing in the dye.  "Well, we'll just have to let that sit for a bit before washing it again,While we're waiting I'm going to go over and check how your friend is doing."

"I bet he's just loving this," I said picturing a stylist hovering over Chris, snipping away hair here and there, making him presentable.  The thought of Chris enjoying that was almost laughable.  I could imagine him sitting in a chair like mine, gripping the arm rests with white knuckles so hard they nearly broke off. I wouldn't have been surprised if he hissed at his stylist if they got within three feet of him.  If I could've hissed properly I know I would've.  "Good luck," I called after the lab coat woman as she walked out of the room. 

Only my two guards and I were left in the little room that had previously been my own personal torture room.  They both stood at attention on either side of the doorway with one hand on their gun and one behind their backs.  One was slightly taller than the other and the shorter one was stouter.  I found it amusing that I needed two armed guards with me while some lab tech turned beauty technician dyed my hair. 

Both my guards and I were silent for a few awkward moments until the heavy metal door opened again, revealing a slightly frazzled version of the woman in a lab coat.  She walked into the room and tried to readjust her expression to something less shakey.  I nearly laughed and wondered what it was Chris did to make her so nervous looking.  "So, how was your visit with Chris?"

"Well, um, he isn't the most enthusiastic to get made over," The lab coat stylist said in a slightly wavering voice.

This time I did laugh a little.  "Yeah I can't imagine he would be considering what tomorrow is," I said, referring to our execution.  I fealt a little ache in my heart but the mention of Chris and my's death date but it had long since stopped causing me to cry.  "Just out of curiousity, what exactly did he do to freak you out?"