The scissors gleamed menacingly on the table, the fading sunlight catching on their wicked-looking blades. Holly gazed down at them, torn between fear and anger at the fact she was afraid of an inanimate object.
Gingerly, she reached up to touch the long red strands of hair framing her tanned face. They felt soft and vulnerable, just like she did.
The Lower Elements Police guidelines dictated that an officer's hair should be less than ¾" long, as part of the uniform.
"Officers should exude an aura of authority," the handbook stated, "and a neat haircut is first and foremost in keeping in line with one's dignified image. Short hair is also imperative for mission success; many a mission has been botched by an officer getting stuck in a doorway or caught by an enemy due to his too-long tresses."
Then again, these guidelines had been written with only male fairies in mind.
Holly sighed for the twentieth time. Although there were no rules directing how female officers should dress, Holly wanted to prove, both to herself and to her macho, chauvinistic colleagues, that she was tough enough to work in Recon.
Every female fairy in Haven longed to imitate the hairstyle of Prilla Petal, the beautiful elfin actress. Prilla Petal was known for sporting extraordinarily long, lustrous locks of inky curls after seeing an advertisement of grooming Mud Women. And in the hair department, Holly was extremely lucky.
Most female fairies struggled to grow their hair out past their shoulders. As well as being highly impractical, hair just didn't grow as well without natural sunlight and the nutrients it provided. But Holly's hair hung past her shoulder blades in straight, flaming waves. She was always receiving slightly envious compliments on it, but Holly only kept it long for her mother.
"I wish I could grow my hair out like you, sweetie," her mother would sigh as she brushed out her daughter's hair. "I feel like we can bond over it. Will you keep it long for me?"
"Of course, Mum," Holly promised, trying not to wince as her mother attempted to tease out yet another stubborn knot.
But now her mother was gone and all the girls who had once jealously admired it had jobs or families to keep them occupied, so she never saw them anymore. That was just as well; Holly was never what you'd call a "fairy fairy."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind of its tempting distractions. It was never a question of if she would go through with it; it was merely a question of when. Might as well do it now and get it over with.
Trying to swallow the lump in her throat, she reached for the scissors and grasped a chunk of auburn hair. Her movements drew her attention to her bathroom mirror and she gazed at her reflection.
The mirror hardly seemed accurate. The color had drained from her face and her hands were shaking. The long red hair that framed her angular face and her mother loved to twist into fanciful styles seemed to mock her now.
You're too young, it whispered, to handle this job. You're nothing but a little girl in grown-up's clothes.
And with her long hair, Holly did look like a little girl. But no more.
Gritting her teeth, she raised the scissors and hacked through the hair in her hand, the scarlet strands sticking to her brand new uniform.
Now she had no choice but to go on. With the cut she had just made, her hairstyle was jagged and uneven and looked like she had gotten it tangled in a helicopter rotor and the rotor had won. And so, with hot tears streaming down her cheeks, Holly reached up and began cutting her hair.
"Lieutenant Short." Commander Julius Root's voice sounded choked, as if he had inhaled wrong on one of his noxious fungus cigars, and he had to restrain himself from rubbing his eyes in disbelief. "You cut your hair."
Holly nodded solemnly. "I wanted to show my dedication to the force, sir," she replied, standing rigidly at attention. "Long hair has a tendency to get in the way."
"So I've heard. Well," he stood up and patted her shoulder gruffly, "it looks nice. Your mother would be proud."
Although Holly desperately tried to contain the tears threatening to spill over, spiking her eyelashes with moisture, one managed to escape her rapidly blinking lids and slithered down her cheek. "Thank you, sir," she said.