FicWad

found myself wandering around the supermarket aimlessly. My maternal slut read in one of the books the school shrink got her to read that it's good to give your teen simple tasks to make the teen feel more independent and ready to face the world.
I swear these books were full of bullshit of the worst kind and they were written like fucking guides to the clueless teen owner. With a few words replaced you could easily mistake them for guide to the hopeless cook or for the devoted dog lover 'to make your bulldog (teen) feel more happy when you're around award the dog (teen) with compliments and treats'.... And my parents actually bought it! No wonder they raised a gay and...Well me.
So there I was, with a long list, a few bills in my pocket and whole lot of things in my shopping cart I had no idea what they were for.

I found myself in the hair products aisle. The shelves were packed with all kinds of bottles and shiny boxes in different colors. All shiny, promising your hair a good time. But the shelves that lured me in particular were the hair dye ones. I was mesmerized by all the colors and opportunities I had. I could be a red head in 40 minutes, a blond in a drop of the hat and I wanted to be everything the box promised me. I wanted to have shiny beautiful hair and I wanted to be as beautiful as the girls on the boxes were.
I grasped the cart with my hand and put my hand through my limp light brown hair. I never really took great care of it. I never gave it a second thought, it was just my hair, light brown, long, straight and fair. A legacy of the Harts. My dad would have the same hair if he had no balls.

"Need some help, doll?," a short pretty girl popped a gum, staring at me.

"Um I dunno," I mumbled, again sending my hand through my locks.

"Wanna a fresh color?," the lady approached me with examining eyes.

"Sorta," I nodded.

"What you had in mind, doll?," she combed my hair with her hands, at the end of each hand were long fingernails painted fire red.

"Something different," I tilted my head to the side, "Something wild"

"Wild, huh?," he chewed loudly, picking up a few boxes off the shelves and showing them into my arms, "You'll look fabulous in blue"

"blue?," I exclaimed, the image of my dad's shocked face bloomed in my head.

"It'll bring out these orbs of yours," she nodded, picking up another box, "And red"

"Red?," I mumbled.

"You'll pale enough to handle red," she tapped one fingernail on her chin, "And a strike of black?"

"Bring it on," I smiled.

"And you'll need bleach of course," he said more to herself then to me when she threw it in my cart, "You didn't color before, right?"

I shook my head shyly. I was a color virgin, my hair was the only thing virgin in my body.

"So maybe go easy on the bleach this time," she took it out and placed it back on the shelves, "You're hair is fair enough"

"So um how do I do it?"

"You go wild, doll," she smiled one last smile before disappearing down the baby aisle while I gawped after her.

And wild I went. After putting away all the shit I bought in it's respectable shelves and cabinets, I grabbed the packet with the hair colors and stuffed it under my shirt as I ran upstairs past my parents who were busy arguing about something in the living room.
I locked myself in the bathroom and spread the dyes on the the counter, just watching it and my reflexion for a few minutes.
I finally decided I needed a change, I was sick of my hair looking the same way for as long as I could remember. It came down to my waist but I wanted a change so badly, I just grabbed the first pair of scissors I laid my eyes on and began cutting and trimming.

The final result was me with bangs that were constantly getting in my eyes and a hair which reached the middle of my back layered in weird blunt cuts. So far so good.
Then it was a time to bring a little color into my life.
I splashed green and red and black on every random strip of hair that got in my way and sat, leaning on the cold white tiles of the bathroom, waiting for 40 minutes to pass. Anxiously biting my nails.

After I rinsed it out and towel dried it, I was a bit hesitant to face the final result but when I finally did, my jaw dropped in awe. I was cool.
My hair striped with all kinds of colors and shades and I was fucking cool. Like these people with the colorful hair I always admired for their balls to dye their hair in weird patterns. I was weird. I was cool. And I had parents to face.

"Oh my god," was the first thing maternal slut exclaimed when I cautiously stepped into the living room, interrupting their hollering match, "Oh my god, Velvet"

"So you like?," I smiled shyly.

"I like?," she gulped, shock spilled all over her features, "Velvet....It's...It's...Oh my god"

Dad just blinked, his face stripped of any emotion.

"It's cool, isn't it?"

"It...It's green," she approached me, circling around with her hand clasped on her neck, "Oh my, red too"

"Yeah," I giggled happily.

"Go wash it out," dad's voice was low and hoarse.

"I can't"

"Go wash it out," he hissed angrily again.

"I can't"

"WASH IT OUT!"

"Dave!," maternal slut cried out, "It's a hair dye not crayons, she can't just wash it out on your command"

"Then just get rid of it," he yelled, waving his hands around.

"I think it looks fine," she crossed her hands on her chest, pursing her lips.

"I don't!," he yelled a little bit louder.

"It's my hair," I jumped in, "I can do whatever I want with it"

"Wash it out"

"I'm a young adult," I moaned, stumping my leg down, "Doesn't it says so in your books to let me decide shit for myself"

"Wash it out!"

"Come on! I wanna look special for the dance"

"Wash. It. Out"

"You're impossible to reason with," I yelled.

"Wash it out!"

"Dave," she finally tore her eyes away from me to fix her gaze on dad, her face taking on a more strained look, "She's right. It's her choice"

"It'll be her choice when her ass would finally be out of my house," he stepped back. I wondered if it was my imagination playing tricks on me or did he really shrunk back under her gaze.

"In the end you're attitude will drive everyone away from you," she said venomously.

"Is there anyone left to scare away, darling?," he stressed out the pet name, diverting his eyes from her face.

"Oh how typical, Dave," she still used the dry cold tone that sent shivers down my spine, "Everything is someone else's fault. Never yours! You're the freaking saint. You never change"

"Unlike you, I'm not a chamillion," he snapped, sending his hand through his thickening hair.

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air, "Why can't you never see what you're doing wrong? Always trying to fix someone else!"

"I never tried to fix you," he said quietly and his eyes landed on my hair again but he was looking through me instead at me, "Wash that crap out"

"But daddy," I whined.

"Either you wash it out or I'll shave your hair off," he barked viciously.

"Jesus Christ," maternal slut threw her hands in the air again, glaring at my dad, "Let's fucking wash it out," she grabbed my arm and tugged me up the stairs.

I struggled against her, "Leave me alone"

"Trust me this once, Viola," she whispered.

Once in the bathroom, she locked the door behind her, "I won't make you wash it"
I responded with the drop of my jaw, "Yeah I know that for some reason you think I horrible but I gonna let you keep it," she motioned on my head, turning the tap on full force, "I'll tell your father it's a permanent color and that it's gotta grow out"

"I can just dye over it," I mumbled, shrugging.

"What your father doesn't know, won't hurt him," her wink hurt made my gut tremble. Suddenly I didn't want the color or the change or anything, I wanted my family back.