Chapter 14 - Elsie Cut Off The Burned Ends Herself
For months, Elsie refused to let anyone touch the charred strand of hair.
Marcus offered a salon.
No.
Her aunt offered to trim it.
No.
The burned ends remained.
A strange little black mark mixed into blonde hair.
The therapist advised everyone not to force the issue.
Hair grows.
Choice mattered more.
Eight months later, Elsie came into the kitchen holding scissors.
“Dad?”
Marcus looked up.
“I want to cut it.”
He almost stood too quickly.
“Okay.”
“Can you?”
She thought.
Then shook her head.
“I wanna.”
They went to the bathroom.
Marcus stood nearby.
Elsie separated the damaged strand.
Held it between two fingers.
Snipped.
The blackened ends fell into the sink.
That was it.
No music.
No speech.
Elsie looked at herself in the mirror.
“Looks weird.”
Marcus laughed.
“A little.”
“It’ll grow.”
“Yes.”
She touched the shorter strand.
Then said:
“I don’t wanna keep the burned part.”
“You don’t have to.”
She swept the cut hair into the trash.
Not preserved.
Not placed in a memory box.
Not turned into evidence.
The forensic photographs already existed.
Elsie did not owe trauma a museum.
She washed her hands.
Then asked if they could get ice cream.
May you like
So they did.
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