Cold Tomorrow

[4]

CHAPTER FOUR

I find myself in the bathroom the next morning, staring at my reflection. There are many things about my face that remind me of Sarah, seeing as my overall features – my nose, my lips, my smile, my eyebrows – haven't changed since I returned to this body, but my hair, long and ash blonde, is the worst. It hangs straight, resting innocently on my shoulders, and yet it still manages to make me feel like I've stolen something that doesn't belong to me, like I'm an outsider, stealing into someone else's body.

I know I shouldn't feel this way – this was, after all, my body to begin with – but while I can deal with confronting Sarah's facial features every time I look in the mirror, I can't cope with having her hair. Every time I see it, resting on my shoulders, brushing against my skin, I'm reminded of Sarah, and of everything I did to her and her family. When I was young, I always used to admire her hair, wishing I could trade her gorgeous golden locks for my average-jane brown mop.

Never did I think my wish would come true.

Suddenly coming to a decision, I grab a hairband, tug the hair back into a ponytail and pull open one of the drawers in the bathroom cabinet. I have to dig around a bit until I find the scissors, but when I do, I shut the drawer and bring my ponytail around to rest on one shoulder, gripping it tightly in my hand.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," I say to my reflection. Then I bring the scissors to my hair and start cutting.

-:-:-:-:-

When I leave the bathroom, my hair just brushes my shoulders. The ends are a bit uneven, but I decide I don't care. I've done this plenty of times over the years, trimming my own hair in order to avoid going to a hairdresser. There's no fun in sitting in a chair while every stares at you warily, including the person holding a pair of scissors just below your neck. I made the mistake of going when I was younger, and I've never gone since.

I step into the dining room and find Sarah already at the table, eating breakfast alone. She looks up as I enter, and I watch as her mouth forms an 'O'.

"You're hair," she observes.

I nod, and take a seat opposite her, not hungry enough to eat.

"Why'd you cut it?"

I shrug. There's no way I'm explaining how much it reminds me of her, how much it pains me to see it every day. I should have cut it as soon as I swapped back. "I suppose I just wanted a change," I say.

She stares at me for a few seconds, determining whether or not I'm lying, but then she lets out a breath and returns to her food, seeming satisfied. "I suppose you want to hear the rest of my explanation from the other night, then," she says a minute later, stirring her increasingly soggy cereal with a spoon.

I had forgotten all about it. Funny the things your mind forgets. I nod.

Sarah sighs. "It will probably take a while to explain. How about we meet somewhere tomorrow and talk it over?"

"Not here?"

She shakes her head. "I'd feel more comfortable if it was just you and me. Caden doesn't know, and I only want it to be known to the minimum amount of people possible. If it somehow gets out that I..." She stops, and then continues again, quieter. "I don't know what I'd do if everyone knew."

It frustrates me, how long this is being extended. I have too much to deal with, and the longer I wait for answers, the harder it gets to cope with all the worries swirling dangerously around inside my head.