“You should be. There’s evil inside you, Veronica. It tempts you, makes you sin. Pretty is bad, pretty is what puts women in trouble,” she says, and I cry harder. I’m not evil. I’m not bad.
I try to run to my bed, but mommy doesn’t let me. She grips my hair and pulls it. “Stay here. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix you.”
I stay put. I don’t know what else to do. I’m afraid of her. She’s moving fast around the room, looking into the drawer for a thing.
She holds out scissors, and I look at the door. I’m afraid. Her face is funny again with the way she’s angry. Will she hurt me? I don’t want her to hurt me.
“Mommy… mommy, what are you doing?”
“I’ll fix you, Veronica,” she says and pulls me by my hair. “This hair will go away. It’s devil’s temptation.”
“Mommy, please. Don’t.” I sob, but she doesn’t stop. The scissors meet my hair, and my black manes fall to the ground next to my feet over and over again. I close my eyes when my hair reaches to my shoulders, but mommy doesn’t stop even then. I hear the teeth of scissors over and over again until I can’t feel any of the strands of my hair.
“Here. Finally. You won’t worry about being pretty again,” she says. Her voice is coming out like she’s smiling.
With fear, I open my eyes and another sob escapes from my throat. I look like a boy. I try to touch my hair, grip it, but there’s not enough length to hold.
I wanted to have blonde hair like the little girl. Now, I don’t even have any hair.
Is God punishing me?
I take hold of hair that’s lying in front of me, and another sob gets out.
I don’t like whoever God is.
Chapter 4
Past
Age 7
I sneak out when mom closes herself in her room to pray. It’s so good outside, there’s no rain, the sun is shining. I’m sitting behind the blackberry bushes, playing with my one-armed doll. I hear laughter from the next door. It’s the pretty girl’s house, but I have never looked at her house after my mom cut my hair that day. I blame the girl, even though I know it’s not her fault. She doesn’t even know of my existence. I hear the girl and her friends singing. It sounds like they are having fun. I wish I had a friend to play with.
“What are you doing there?” I hear someone ask.
Looking around myself, I try to see where the voice comes from. It’s the girl next door, leaning over the fence. She’s smiling, and she doesn’t look like a little girl anymore, she looks older than me and happier.
I look at her, not knowing what to say.
“Hi! My name is Lauren. What’s your name?” she asks, still smiling.
“Veronica,” I whisper. I don’t want my mom to catch us.
“Why are you whispering?” she whispers.
I shrug.
“Let’s play together. Come to our house. You won’t stay alone,” she says, outstretches her arm like she can help me up.
I glance over my shoulder toward my house. Mom is still nowhere to be seen. Maybe I can go, but I shake my head with the fear of mom’s anger. “No, I can’t.”
“We’re playing in my Barbie doll house. There are chocolate cookies, too. It’ll be fun,” she says.
“What is a dollhouse?” I ask, slowly walking toward her. I don’t know about chocolate cookies, but if it’s something close to chocolate I want it.
Her blue eyes widen. “Don’t you have one?”
I shake my head.