That night, Helga returned to her bathroom and stared into the mirror. She applied the hair tonic only last night in this very room, and so much was already different. It had so much to offer: power, influence, friends, and money. But was it worth it? She wanted Arnold, not fame. Slowly, she pulled out her razor.
"Helga, what are you doing?" asked Beard. He sounded desperate, shocked, and betrayed.
Helga didn't acknowledge him. Instead, she remained silent as she took the razor to Beard, severing his hold on her face and her life. It was painful to watch such a magnificent creature struggle in its death, but it had to be done. Helga had no remorse.
"Helga, please, no..." Beard begged. But Helga kept shaving. Shaving the past, her opportunities, dreams, everything. Except Arnold.
"Helga, I love you," said Beard, finally expressing how he felt for the girl. He kept it bottled up for the entire day; now it was too late.
"You've controlled my life for too long, Beard. I need to let you go. So much wanton destruction. It had to end somewhere. It ends here, now. I take control of my own life now, Beard. We're through."
Helga shaved off the last of the beard. She was in a pile of hair that reached up to her waist. It was gone. Gone forever.
Would Helga ever have Arnold's heart now? Or would she have to try again? The plan was good. Too good. Now she had to become an ordinary girl again. It was worth it. So worth it. At least, that's what she tried to believe.
Helga's weakness overcame her. She dropped to her knees, thrusting her hands to her face, sobbing.
"Why, Beard? Why did you have to go?" She would cry herself to sleep that night and wake up without her beard.
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