Hair To Die For

There used to be a girl in my school. Her name was Algee. She looked awful. She had frizzy, blond hair with a bad overbite. She was extremely skinny and had gross teeth. I was always creeped out by her. My friends called me mean, but I just had this feeling. I would catch her stroking my long, black hair in class. Her stare sent chills down my spine. I ignored my instincts and forced a smile.

One day, the day that changed everything, was in Mrs. Ellious’ class. She asked us to write an essay about the best trait you have. I was a shy, unsocial girl, so I decided to write about my hair. Mrs. Ellious called me up to the class. I smiled and read my descriptive essay, word by word. I could see Algee’s face turn bright red. Then she started murmuring and her horrible smile spread over her face, revealing her brown teeth. I was kind of scared. Her eyes bore holes in my soul. I started to feel sick. I dropped the essay on the ground and rushed over to the trash can, Algee grabbed my hair and pulled it back, then started braiding it. She placed the black hair in her mouth and sucked on it. Too distracted about the acidic liquid spewing out of my mouth, I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home.

I was sent home, and the clouds were black. I expected rain and I didn’t care. I just wanted to sleep. My mom came rushing in my room with a yellow energy drink and felt my forehead.

“You are fine. You just need some rest. I’m going to the pharmacy to get you some medicine. I will be gone by thirty minutes. I better hurry. Looks like a storm.”

I sickly nodded, and heard the pit pat of rain. I heard a low boom and saw a flash. The raIn came down harder, and the thunder became louder. I heard the scurry of feet. “It’s just the rain,” I told myself. Right then I saw biggest flash I had ever seen and an even louder crash that split my eardrums. I turned on the television to get my mind off things. Everything went black.

The power was out. I was terrified, huddled in my small bed, sick and in the complete blackness. I was starting to see double vision. I felt a cold hand on my wrist and I weakly asked, “Mother?” I don’t remember anything else except the feeling of hands gripping my hair and tearing it out of my head. I have never before experienced such pain. It was as if my head was on fire. Not only had she pulled out more that half the hair on my head, she had pulled chunks of my skin, too. I was bleeding very heavily. I felt faint. Too faint to scream. The last thing I remember is hearing the front door open, then everything went black.

I awoke in the hospital, with bandages around my head. My mother and father were standing over me, their eyes puffy and red. “Someone broke in, darling” my father said. “We don’t know why they would do such a thing to you, but the police are still investigating.” All I could choke out was “Algee” my father pressed his hand against me and whispered, “shhhh.” I went back to school next week. It was awful. Kids were making fun of me because I was bald, everyone kept asking questions and no one seemed to notice Algee had black extensions put in her hair. She kept fingering “her” new black hair and still no one noticed.

It has been two years now. No one believes me when I say “Algee tore chunks out of my head. Algee’s the one who broke in.” No one believes me. They just keep giving me medicine. Ever since then I have a terrible personality disorder and I am still receiving treatment.

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