I was raised to fight and not to obsess over my appearance but as I watched my reflection in the mirror, I felt an ache in my chest. It was not because of the thin scar on my forehead or the one on my cheek. It was my beautiful red locks.
He stood with his gaze fixed on mine through the mirror. I did not want him to see me broken from something so small.
The maniac had cut it from where my braid started, taking the entire length with him and leaving behind an uneven mess of choppy hair. Kreon had more hair on his head and he was a man!
“It will grow,” He murmured, running his hand through my hair. Really, there was nothing to run his hand through. Only short strands that still shed from the manner they had been sheared remained to touch.
Of course, they would grow. But it would t
