A Week with Katherine

Day Three: Part 2

I would be lying if I said Kat's house didn't surprise me.

I thought it would be as bright and open as she was but it wasn't. It was the opposite.

When we stepped into her house that day the first thing I noticed was how dark it was. Every curtain and blind was closed so tightly that you would be forgiven if you thought it was nighttime outside.

The second thing I noticed was the explosion of stuff; everywhere.

Boxes on top of boxes, stacks of magazines, jackets, shoes, and empty glass bottles littered the place.

The house looked like Kat's family was just moving in, or rather out.

Though I was curious, I didn't ask why and Kat didn't try to explain.

I remember her house had these perfectly square discoloration marks scatted randomly along the walls. I wasn't gonna ask about those either. But, when she caught me staring at one she sighed uncomfortably before explaining them anyway:

"My mom couldn't handle seeing our family photos anymore. So, she took them down. I think she thought it'd help, but now we just have marks on the walls as a reminder." She said.

I didn't have the guts at the time to ask why her mom would do that. I wish I had though. Either way, I guess it doesn't matter since I would end up getting my answer the next day.

We quickly walked our way upstairs. We only stopped when we got to her room.

Her room was nothing like you'd expect. Or at least nothing like I expected.

The walls were bare and painted white. Her sheets were a dark grey and the closest thing to color against her black furniture. The room was bare of almost anything that proved a person lived there.

The only things that screamed Kat was a black suitcase-style record player in the corner of the room and a messy arrangement of records scattered on the floor near it.

I had expected an explosion of color or at least a few posters of the random B-Movies she often referenced but there was none of that.

I can't remember what exactly was said but somehow I ended up sitting on her bed as she stood behind me painting a bleach mixture on my head.

All I remember thinking was that my mom might actually murder me but that it was too late to go back.

"Have you ever done this before?" I asked her.

"No, but I watched like a dozen fail videos last night so I'm pretty confident I know what not to do," Kat said with ease.

I remember my heart starting to race with panic.

"Knowing what not to do and knowing what to do aren't the same thing," I said quickly starting to freak out.

She put her hands on my shoulders and leaned down so her face was next to mine.

"Relax, okay? It's gonna be fine." She promised.

Her gaze pierced me.

I simply nodded. Kat smiled before pulling away from me and focusing back on my hair.

After about twenty minutes the bleach was all applied and she put a shower cap on my head.

While we waited for my hair to lighten she asked me to start hers.

I was beyond nervous. But she trusted me so I knew I had to try my best.

Katherine decided that she just wanted random strikes of color rather than bleaching her whole head. I wish I had known that was an option before I let her do mine.

She quickly brushed out her hair before asking me to start.

Her hair was really soft. Since she had brushed it a lot of the curls had fallen and turned into a fluffy puff.

It took us about two hours to finish the bleaching and dying process. The most notable thing that happened was Katherine snorting when she laughed as she held me down to wash my head both times with her shower head.

She joked that I looked like a drowned rat.

Next thing I know my hair was lime green and cropped a few inches shorter around the sides. Kat had left most of the length on top.

"It looks pretty good," I commented as I looked at myself in the mirror.

"Don't sound so surprised," Kat muttered as she t-shirt-dried her hair.

Now it was my turn to trim her hair.

"So how short are we going?" I asked nervously as I tried to figure out how to hold the hair-cutting scissors.

While my hair looks nearly professionally done, the pink strips in Kat's hair had ended up more uneven than I had hoped with bits of orange bleached hair showing through.

"Hmm..." Kat thought for a moment while she looked at herself in the mirror. She loosely twirled the ends of her bust-length hair.

"This short." Kat finally answered, turning to me. Her fingers pointed to just below her jaw.

"That's a lot of hair," I commented unsurely.

"Yeah, that's why I want it gone," Kat said confidently while facing the mirror again.

I could see the frown on her face through her reflection.

"It looks good long," I said, trying to brighten the mood. Her frown only deepened as she glanced at me through the mirror.

"I don't care. I hate it and I need a change." Kat snapped while throwing the shirt she was using to dry her hair to the ground.

I had never seen her angry before. It was so sudden and fierce. I didn't like it.

"I don't want to mess up your hair," I said trying to backtrack but that only seemed to upset her more.

Looking back I was worried for nothing. No one cares about your hair when your skull is crushed in.

Kat sighed. Before suddenly walking over to me and taking the scissors from my hand.

"Fine if you won't do it..." her voice frighteningly calm while she randomly grabbed a fist full of her own hair.

"Then I will." She finished as she blindly cut about a foot of her hair off. Her eyes locked on mine as she did it.