PTX Oneshots

Ripped

She was ripped and she felt like paper.

Kirstie Maldonado sat on her bathroom sink braiding her hair.
It was limp, lifeless, the strands of woven gold that would fall to her waist in magnificent waves were flat.
She didn't curl her hair that day.
After all, who was she trying to impress? Not Jeremy, certainly, as he broke up with her for somebody she had never met.
Why?
Hell if she knew. She was nice enough wasn't she? And she could sing.
Was it how she looked?
Was it the way that the her right eye was lazier than her left? Or her side smile?
Or was it her hair which was tangled in a mess of knots and braids?
She knew there was a knife somewhere inside here. Again, she wasn't too sure why. She assumed defense purposes.
She opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the small blade, turning it over in her palm.
Then the door slammed open, lights flickering from the sudden movement.
She jumped and nearly stabbed herself.
Avi Kaplan was breathing heavily in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed, mouth turned down.
"Kit-"
He huffed, trying to catch his breath.
She watched.
"Kirst, I interrupted a make out session to find you... The boys said you were in here..."
He saw her face, mascara running down her cheeks, golden brown eyes with red veins peeking out from behind her irises.
And the knife in her hand.
"Kirstin." He said deadpan.
"What?"
"What are you doing?"
"I was cutting my hair."
"Just your hair?"
He eyed her sweater like it would jump up and kill him.
"Roll up your sleeves." He commanded.
She obeyed quickly, tugging up the red fabric, her skin unscarred and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Kit, look, I know whatever happened was terrible."
She turned away to face her reflection in the mirror, rubbing away at her runny makeup.
"But if you really wanted to cut your hair, our stylist is downstairs. I don't want you to handle anything sharp for now."
Then he grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to face him and holding up her chin so she couldn't avoid his eyes.
Which she couldn't help but notice were the same shade of green that emeralds were.
"That girl was a skimpy wannabe. You're perfect. Everything about you from your hair to the smallest fiber of life on your body. You beat her in every way I can think of."
"But-"
"No buts."
His arms wrapped around her and she seemed even more fragile than normal.
"I love you." He whispered into her ear.
"I love you too." She sobbed into his shirt.
After a minute or two of perfect bliss, silent save for when she choked on her own breath, she pulled away.
"Do you still want a haircut?"
She nodded a little.
"Then let's go. You'll look like a superstar."
"Your superstar." She whispered back.