Subconsciously, her fingertips traced the bruise on her arm. The latest of many. The clock on the bedside table turned midnight, as she heard footstep... on the stairs.Don’t stop, don’t stop... She silently pleaded. The footsteps stopped. Maybe there was a chance... Her bedroom door opened, the bottom dragging heavily against the carpet because the hinges were bent. The result of a previous, ultimately futile effort to block the door. Wendy feigned sleep as the tears rolled down her eyes. The. "Hold on," he said worried again, "I don't want a girl's hair style permanently." You won't," she reassured him, "the set will wash out and if you get your hair cut you'll be back to normal, assuming you want to of course." How do you know all this anyway?" he asked interested now and taking note of her handiwork in case needed to do it himself."Didn't you know, Mum got me a Saturday job at her hairdresser's years ago and they said I could learn to do styling if I wanted, so they taught me?. More

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