Cruel Intoxication (Underground Kings 4)

“I … can’t brush it,” she says, broken. She tries to run her fingers through her hair, but it’s so tangled, matted, and looks like a nest. “I can’t brush it.” I’ve never seen someone so lost and sad before. Actually, that’s a lie.

She is a mirror of how I feel on the inside; I just don’t let it show.

“You know,” I start to say, “that’s okay. We can cut it. Cut off what used to be, and let it grow to the new you. The free you.” I inch closer, afraid that if I move too fast she’ll run. There is no way her hair can be saved. It’s too matted, too tangled.

“But … my hair. What else can he take from me?” She tries to run her fingers through the mess again, but she grunts and then smacks her hand against the wall.

I cup her face with my hands, drying her tears, and smile. “I think you’ll look good with short hair. I think you’ll be happier with it gone too.”

“Yeah?” She sniffles, looking at me for hope and guidance.

She needs me.

“Oh, yeah,” Heaven’s loud mouth says from the kitchen. “I think you’d look hot with short hair. Long hair can get caught in stuff,” he says.

Jaxon slaps him on the back of the head.

“Ow,” he says.

“Yeah?” She tries not to cry again.

It isn’t just about hair. Sure, it’s hair. No big deal. It can grow back, but right now, all she sees is her captor stealing something from her again, something that makes her feel like a woman. Something that keeps her femininity, the one thing that bastard tried so hard to take.

I think she views her hair as the last of it.

“Oh yeah, I say we cut it,” Heaven says.

“What … what do you think?” she asks me, another well of tears forming.

“I don’t want you to do something you don’t want. If you want to cut it, we cut it. If you want me to try to brush it out, I’ll try all night, okay?” I want to give her the option, let her be in control, but let her know I’m here for whatever she decides. I don’t want her to depend on me for her choices. She’s hasn’t been in control for a long time. Jolie deserves to gain her freedom back, and that starts with decisions like this.

To cut or not to cut?

Her bottom lip trembles, and she nods. “Can we try? I really don’t want to cut it.”

“Yeah, we can try; come on.” I take her hand and lead her down the hall, giving the guys one last look. Each of them give me an encouraging nod, and Heaven gives me two thumbs-up.

I’m not trying to seduce Jolie. I’m just trying to be a friend, someone she needs right now. And she seems to trust me the most, so why would I not be there for her?

She turns left into her bedroom, and I follow, keeping the door open so she doesn’t feel trapped. We walk into the bathroom, she sits down at the vanity, and her swollen red eyes look at me. She holds up the brush, which has a ton of hair in it already, and her lip starts to tremble.

“I don’t think it’s going to work,” she admits.

I don’t think so either, but I’m going to show her that I’m going to try.

There are dirty droplets on the floor, probably from her hair, and it’s stark against the white tile. The claw-foot tub is lined with filth after the water drained. I can’t stand that for her. I can’t stand that she has been denied basic care.

She blushes when she sees what I’m looking at. “I showered after I bathed. I’m sorry. I’ll clean everything. I—”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t thinking about how dirty it is. I was thinking about how much I hate you haven’t been able to take a regular bath.” I open the shower stall and grab the conditioner to try to untangle her hair while I comb it out.

Her hair drops down to her butt, and the ends are like dreads. Thick, matted, and filthy. I can see the debris in them from the year of not being able to take care of herself.

“This isn’t the right brush.” I take the brush from her hands and set it aside. I open the drawer and grab a comb instead. It has teeth instead of bristles. It will be less painful and will dig through the tangles more effectively. “We need something like this.” I hold up the comb and wiggle it in my hand as we stare at each other in the mirror.

“Where did you learn that?” she asks, staring at the comb like it’s some magical wand that’s about to be her cure all.

Where did I learn it?