Sub Zero

Chapter Twenty Eight

White threads of silk,
falling down, down, down,
brushing against pale flesh
drifting yet, forever, down.
I watch them, somewhat sorrowful. Why do they have to fall?

My long curls lay on the bathroom floor. The sludge seeps into the white particles. Green silk. I wrinkle my nose distastefully.

My stubborn hair curls once again, its frayed ends not holding it back in any way. Hiyori doesn't cut it all off, thankfully. Instead, it falls just above my shoulders, framing my chin and wide pale eyes. "It suits you." She whispers. I nod, looking in the mirror and running my fingers through my new hair. It's not literally new, but it feels like it.

She brings out a box of hair dye, and my eyes widen. "No." I say sternly. "Please don't dye my hair." She blinks at my reaction, then shrugs nonchalantly. "Whatever. You'd be a weird brunette anyways." She says. I nod. "Yes, I would."

She then orders me to strip down. "Don't be embarrassed!" She says, laughing as I try to cover myself up. "Nothing I haven't seen before, Dear." She cackles. I glare daggers at her. "You may have, but it doesn't make it any less embarrassing." I hiss through clenched teeth. She shrugs and says, "Aww, come on now. We're all mature adults here." 

I puff my cheeks out at her childishly. She shakes her head. "You act like you're ten!"
"Yeah, as if you have room to talk." I mutter. She raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "Who, little old me? Oh, no, Deary! I'm much more mature than a child of ten years: more like eleven!"

I watch her, humorless, as she chortles with laughter at her own joke. I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You're hopeless Inoue." I sigh. "Yeah, and you're naked!" She snorts.

My cheeks turn red with embarrassment and aggravation. "And whose fault is that?" I ask sarcastically. She looks confused. "Huh? Oh! I forgot! Here's your clothes!" She declares in a singsong voice. "Hopeless." I complain as I gratefully snatch up the clothing.

I inspect myself in the grimy mirror. I'm dressed in simple attire. Something that won't draw too much attention. The denim jeans hug my curves perfectly, and I catch myself staring at my butt self-consciously. I haven't wore pants in so long.

My t-shirt is black and has some kind of band logo printed on it. I'm surprised that I'm clueless as to who the band is. It's accented with a old, torn denim jacket and worn, black converse. I'm impressed that they have clothes that fit me so well. Hiyori must have taken my measurements in the asylum sometime. Well, that's unlikely. She probably just discovered them when she was snooping through my files. I grin.

The elderly lady then proceeds to fetch a straightener out of one of the many small bags she has in her hot little hands. She straightens my defiant, choppy hair to the best of her ability. "Isn't this a waste of time?" I ask curiously as she nearly burns my ear off. "No. I, personally, enjoy this. Besides, if it's cute, why not?" She says. I shrug. "Yeah, whatever. I guess."

After my hair finally obeys, I mention makeup. Hiyori shakes her head. "You're naturally beautiful. You don't need makeup!" She scolds. Well at least she has some old lady spirit in her. "Please?" I beg. "It's been forever since I've worn any! Hey what happened to concealing my identify?" I whine. She throws her arms up in defeat. "Fine, you brat!"

I grin evilly as she defiantly hands over one of the leather pouches. After snatching it from her and attempting to clear a space at the sink, I quickly apply some moisturizer, then concealer, then a pale foundation. I polish off my skin with some anti-shine powder. I attempt at liquid eyeliner, feeling proud of myself when it finally doesn't leek into my eyes. I don't even try anything fancy with the black substance. I'll only screw it up and look more like a corpse than I already do!

My lashes curl perfectly along with the mascara brush. My eyelashes are always my favorite. Even if I mess up on the eyeliner, they're always so long and thick that they cover up the small mistakes. Unfortunately for me, my errors are, mostly, very noticeable. That's why this time I must have luck on my side.

"Okay, I'm done." I declare. Hiyori looks me over critically. "I think you look fantastic. Although, I did like you better before." She says. I wave my hand at her dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it now." She sighs. "Alright, here we go." She says, heading for the door,
"Wait, aren't you gonna change also?" I ask, pointing at her hospital uniform.
"Hmm? Oh, right!"

I shake my head as she pounces on the duffle bag and pulls out clothing that could fit an eight year old. She changes at lightening speed, and finally does some kind of pose that I cringe inwardly at. "Aren't I a sexy beast?" She demands more than asks. She's wearing parachute pants (heaven knows how she got her hands on those), a pink, long-sleeved shirt with  a large sequin butterfly sewn on the chest, and a pair of white Nike tennis shoes.

I try to suppress my laughter, I really do. I feel my cheeks grow red as I deny the passage of oxygen to my lungs. With my eyes stinging of tears, I finally decide to breathe. I violently exhale.

"Yes, very!" I gasp in-between hysterical giggles. Hiyori smiles. "Oh, I get it! I'm so ravishing that you can only laugh! I completely understand!"
"Yes! That must be it!" I gasp.

Why do I feel so happy? We're running from the government! What could be worse? And yet, I'm standing in a gas station bathroom, gasping for air from laughing so much.

I think I remember laughing like this when I had that dream. It was because of something Finn did, right? He made me happy, even though he wasn't even real.

I find it surprisingly easy to think of him now. Is it because he actually does exist, whether he's the same or not? I honestly don't know. But I think that it's about time to let him go. And this time, I think I'll feel better when I do.