Chapter Eleven // Mia

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"Oh come on guys, spare my hair," Ashe was pleading with us as Parker stood behind her with a pocketknife.

When the boys and I had met Ashe on the day we ran away, she wore her hair in a bleached blonde shade, barely below her shoulders. Over time, her hair had grown, exposing its natural dusty brown color, but the blonde still stayed.

Now the blonde was getting chopped off, much to Ashe's dismay.

"Guys, please. This is, like, the only thing I have left from before this mess."

I understood Ashe's point of view, and I did feel bad for her that she was being stripped of something from her life before, but it was a necessary evil. If she kept it, she would be easily identifiable should she get caught in the process of our plan.

Ultimately, our safety was more important than Ashe's nostalgia, something we had tried to explain to her with a very limited effect.

"We don't have a choice, Ashe. Look, I let Parker cut my hair too."

And I had, much to my dismay. It wasn't dismay that my curls were replaced with a pixie cut look, but because Parker was not a trained cosmetologist, which was a root of concern throughout the whole treatment.

I wasn't going to tell Ashe that I was worried about Parker's knife going through my skull instead of through my hair as he was working. That would only make her hesitation grow. All I could do was lie to her about his skill and hope I didn't show any visible fear during my haircut.

And anyways, it wasn't like her haircut was going to be as close to her head as mine was. It was a shoulder length cut, which was hopefully a little less life threatening.

"Why can't I just wear a hat like Emery is?"

While planning our disguises, two black beanies, a pack of cloth masks, and a box of rubber gloves were found in the glove box of The Kidnapper, something Parker called "shady" and "fitting to the name he gave the van,", and something the rest of us called "extraordinarily helpful."

"Because there's only two and they're going to me and Emery. Now can you just let me cut your hair already?" Parker pleaded.

I could've watched Ashe beg for mercy more than she already was, but Emery called me over before I could hear the next words out of her mouth.

"What's up?"

Emery let out a slight sigh before answering. "Do we even have a plan? Why are we doing all of this before we even know what we're supposed to be doing?"

There was a reason Emery pulled me from the group to voice this concern. Parker would've shrugged him off, and Ashe, who honestly may have been a better listener than me in this scenario, was preoccupied.

"I'm sure Parker has one. Let him finish fighting with Ashe over her hair first."

"Fighting over hair?"

"Yeah, Ashe doesn't want to lose her-"

"PARKER, THAT WAS NOT MY HAIR. THAT WAS MY NECK."

"Do I look like a licensed cosmetologist to you?"

So maybe I was wrong about this being a less risky haircut of Parker's.

"Her hair? Yeah, makes sense considering...that."

I sighed. "Now I feel bad for forcing her."

"It was necessary."

"Yeah, I know. But someone else should've done it. Parker seems more hellbent on training for murder than doing a good job. He almost stabbed me too."

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