Hair

by Megg

Kaeden regarded the electric razor in his hand, turning it over in contemplation. The plastic felt cool against his skin, and slid easily against it as he fiddled with the electronic. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to be touching it. His father would be pissed – he would be even more so if he went through with this. Kaeden would get a beating at the very least, which was for certain. Oliver was passed out on the couch right now though, so he wouldn’t be in trouble for at least a few hours.

It wasn’t like his father wouldn’t find something else to beat him over anyway.

Kaeden looked up at the bathroom mirror, his shaggy hair hanging just above his shoulders. It had been a few days since the last time he’d showered, and it certainly showed. Greasy strands shone in the flickering bathroom light, weighing heavily against his head. Reaching up with his free hand, Kaeden pushed a handful of it back and out of his face. He couldn’t have showered if he’d wanted to – their water had been shut off thanks to several unpaid bills, and Kaeden doubted that Oliver would bother to do so until water became more of a necessity than his booze was. The boy’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a purple mark peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirt. More were scattered across the length of his arm, but they were hidden from view by his sleeves. Oliver had gotten upset yesterday when his son hadn’t cleaned up the dishes from dinner fast enough. After the beating, Kaeden had been left to nurse his injuries in the bathroom while his father left to buy more beer.

The boy ground his teeth at the memory, squeezing the razor tightly. Why should he care about what Oliver would think? His father was perpetually miserable, and it wasn’t as though Kaeden hadn’t long since stopped trying to please him. In fact, the thought of doing something that would make Oliver angry was one that Kaeden almost relished. Just seeing the look in his face would give the boy some bitter satisfaction. It wasn’t a punch in the face, but Kaeden would take any level of payback that he could send his father’s way.

‘Fuck him.’ Kaeden’s thumb clicked the switch on the razor and it buzzed to life.

Clumps of hair fell into the sink as he pushed the razor along the skin of his head. For each stroke he made, a clean patch was made on his head, smooth and unblemished. Ridding himself of those dark, greasy locks actually made his head feel lighter. His confidence grew with every pass he made over his head until the left side had been stripped of the rest of its hair. Encouraged by the fact, he switched to the other side, repeating the process until only one line of long hair remained down the center of his scalp.

Kaeden turned his head from side to side, getting a good look at his handy work. He was no hairdresser, but he thought that the mohawk wasn’t bad, especially for a thirteen-year-old in his bathroom. A triumphant smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he brushed away the few pieces of hair that were still sticking to his skin. It felt good to be clean.