A/N: Happy late Thanksgiving, everyone! I got a chapter out in under a month; that's good, right?! It's something, at least.
Can I just say how happy I am that this is out? I know I keep saying it time and time again, but I am SO EXCITED for Alexandria. After this first meeting, I STILL have so much more to add. There's definitely going to be some separate plots for Alyssa, so I'm thrilled to share it with all of you! Plus, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I put in a little Carl and Alyssa scene in here ;) Here ya go, darlings!
The gate opens for us, loud and squeaky. I look around for any sign of walkers hearing it. There aren't any around. Still, my hand holds the hilt of my knife in its sheath, steady as a rock. The other one still holds moms, but I'm certain when she let's go that it will quiver immensely.
Eric goes through first, while it's only open about a third of the way through. A loud thump behind me makes me swiftly swing around and grab my knife out. It's only an opossum, which Daryl quickly shoots with his crossbow. It dies with a loud squeal, and Daryl grabs the carcass just as the gate is fully open. The man behind it gives an unsure look to us, mostly aimed at the hunter. I can see his hand slightly twitch at the base of his rifle.
"We brought dinner." Daryl holds up the opossum by the tail. The Alexandrian just scrunches his nose in disgust.
"It's okay." Aaron tells his friend. "Come on in, guys." He beckons us over to the other side. My breathing picks up heavily.
I look behind him, to the lush green grass and the perfectly cut rose bushes and the growing flowers and-.
There's houses, so many houses, lined up and down the paved streets. On top of each house are solar panels, meaning electricity. Towards the middle-ish area of Alexandria is a large pond, surrounded by lush trees that are still alive, deep green and leafy. A genuine gated community. It's so clean here.
We slowly, cautiously follow Aaron inside. I still hold my knife in my hand, not daring to put it down anytime soon. Just like the others carrying their guns. The rifles are still in hands, not with the safety off and on their backs. In case if things go south.
The new Alexandrian begins to close the gate, and I watch despairingly as the RV and car are getting closed off from my view. I feel terrified at the thought of losing those. What if they're stolen? We need those!
What I notice of the large gate is that there are two manual parts to it; bars and the wall. The bars of it get closed first, which need to be pulled in and locked. The wall part has the same procedure. New Guy pulls the bars into place and locks it before turning to us.
"Before we take this any further, I need you to turn over your weapons." New Guy tells us. And I feel scared, so scared. No. We need these. I need these. This isn't how it works nowadays.
My grip on my knife instantly tightens, to the point where my nails are harshly digging themselves into my skin. Most likely it'll draw blood. I don't care.
"To stay, you hand them over." He tells us.
"We don't know if we want to stay." Rick says, his voice harsh and leader-like. Thank you. I've only been here two minutes and already I feel overwhelmed.
"It's fine, Nicholas." Aaron softly tells his friend.
"If we were gonna use them, we would have started already." Rick adds. Ha, the look on Nick's face!
"Let them talk to Deanna first." Aaron gives Rick a look of, "not helping your case."
"Who's Deeeaanna?" Abraham asks, his voice gruff, but he says the name hilariously. I try not to laugh.
"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place." Aaron answers, then turns to Rick. "Rick, why don't you start?"
What, we're going alone? Like an interview? No way, no how, bucko.
A snarling behind us catches my ear, as it does the others. Rick gives a nod to the back of our group. "Sasha."
She gets the drift and quickly pulls her gun to her shoulder, taking a single shot to kill the walker through the bars.
Nicholas gives us one last look of distrust before going back to the gate, slowly closing the rest of it up before anybody else begins to take pot shots at random walkers.
"It's a good thing we're here." Rick gives a smug look to Nick at the gate, but Aaron beckons us over and we follow him to what looks like a town hall or something. Really? What use is a town hall nowadays? Please tell me these people at least have an armory. Something important to legitimate survival.
"Here's the place." Aaron heads over to the door, white as snow like it's thoroughly cleaned. And that is just mind-boggling. "Uh, these are basically interviews. She'll want to talk to all of you, individually. Rick should start us off. Rick?"
Our leader nods and he hands Judith over to Carl. He heads to the door and opens it, giving the rest of us a look we're all too familiar with. Keep your guard up. You never know what might happen. And the door swings shut behind him, leaving the rest of us to wait.
A few minutes go by, nothing too crazy, before he steps back out. When he does, we all pique up and wait for what he has to say.
But he says nothing at all. He looks puzzled more than anything. He goes over to mom and his hand lands on her shoulder. You're next.
She gives him a nod and she goes to the door. Before she heads in, she turns to me and sends me a wink. I give a weak smile in response. I feel sick.
And that's how it goes. One by one, we're all interviewed by this, "Deanna," person. I silently opt to take the last turn for the group. Maggie goes before me.
Maggie opens the door for me, waving to the open space behind her. With shaking hands (my knife still in one of them,) I pass by her and walk into a huge room, brightly lit and professionally decorated. I move to the right, which I assume serves as a library with a great amount of books. In between two bookcases are large, gorgeous windows. There's a couch that points to the window, and a single, comfy chair pointing to the couch. And in between both is a clear glass coffee table. It's gorgeous.
And a woman pops out from nowhere (it really is a huge place,) smiling at me with a glass of water in her hand.
"Hi, I'm Deanna Monroe." She tells me. "Sorry about the wait, I was a bit parched."
Water. Whenever someone needs it.
I look to the glass, thirsty all well. But I push the thought out of my head. You don't need it. You don't need it. You had some yesterday. From the corner of my eye, I see Maggie is still at the door, her hand on the knob and on the outside of it, but watching me. Waiting.
"And your name is..?" Deanna awaits my answer. Instead I keep quiet. I move my lips, as if to mouth it out, but instead I look like a fish out of water. My heart hammers in my chest and my hand squeezes the hilt of the knife. I can't do this. Oh god.
"You don't need to be scared; I'm not going to hurt you." Deanna sets the glass down on the coffee table as she looks to me, attempting to show some form of comfort in her old features. "No one here will ever do that, to any of your group."
My eyes look to the floor quickly. I can't do this. It's too much.
"Can I stay?" Maggie comes in quickly, the door swinging shut behind her loudly.
"What?" Deanna asks, her gaze shifting from me to Maggie.
"Can I stay? For the interview." Maggie looks to me consolingly. "She's selectively mute; you won't get anything outta her."
Deanna thinks for a moment but gives a nod to her request. She points to the couch. "You two can sit here. I'll take the chair."
I scurry over to the couch quickly, thankful for the momentary silence as Maggie and I settle into the marshmallow-like cushion.
Maggie's hand goes to mine before we start talking, the one that holds the knife. Her eyes are soft as they point down to my blade and back to my hazel orbs. I catch the drift and slowly set my knife back into my sheath with a shaky hand. She goes to hold my hand with both of hers and gives me a reassuring smile.
Deanna comes back into the room with a plate of- What? Cookies?! Who the hell makes chocolate chip cookies in an apocalypse?!
"In case either of you want any." She sets it in front of us with a warm smile. "A little welcoming gift for our community. Feel free to take as many as you want."
She sets down a camera on the bookshelf behind her, pointing it to us. I raise an eyebrow to Maggie, and she tells me, "She'll ask in a minute."
Deanna goes on the chair opposite us with a practiced ease, smoothing out the wrinkles of her pants with delicate hands.
"I hope you don't mind me filming this." She points to the camera with a manicured finger. A manicure. "We're all about transparency here. I film all of the interviews; if you ever want to see any of them, feel free to ask me."
I bob my head to the request. I don't really care; it's not like I'm gonna talk to her. It'll be a boring video. Nothing YouTube worthy.
"So, what's your name?" She looks directly to me as she asks. A lump forms in my throat and I look to Maggie.
"Her name is Alyssa." Her southern accent is calming to me. Something I know. Something normal.
"Alyssa." Deanna repeats. "What a beautiful name." I notice how the smile stays on her face. I can't tell if it's forced or not. Maybe she's just really happy all the time. Maybe it's a façade. "How old are you?"
Maggie looks to me questioningly. I shrug my shoulders, my palms bent at my wrist horizontally to the ceiling. Lost count.
"We're not sure." Maggie says slowly, her eyes going from my features back to Deanna. "It's kind of impossible to keep track of without a calendar." She goes back to me. "Fourteen, maybe? Fifteen? Sixteen?"
I give another shrug of my head, my eyebrows slightly raising at the motion. I point all my fingers out with one hand questioningly.
"Fifteen sounds about right. Or as close to her real age as we're all gonna get."
"Right. About the same age as the kid in the hat." I look from Maggie to Deanna with a nod. Probably.
"You're at the perfect age for our teen classes." Deanna says. What?
The expression on my face send the message. "Let me explain. We have a couple other kids here; many still young, so we try to do school classes every few days in the morning. Normal stuff, like math and english and science. We have four teenagers here- six including you and Carl- that go to the evening classes, learning the same material."
Classes? Excuse me? Why would I learn about the power of triangles when there are undead people on my doorstep? Internally I fume at the thought. How could they be so stupid? Externally, however, I just shrug at the mention.
"Well, it's always something to consider. We wouldn't want to force you into doing anything you don't want to. We aren't that kind of people." With that, I relax a little bit. So they aren't totally crazy. Just mostly.
"Now, Alyssa, do you have any family with you?"
I nod vigorously to the question. Of course, I always have mom, but I've begun to consider the whole group my family. We've been through hell and back together. We've lost together. We've lived together. We're all connected now.
"Her mom is with us, Michonne." Maggie answers for me.
"I spoke with her earlier." Deanna nods. "She seems like a wonderful woman and parent. Before or after?"
"After." Another nod from Deanna.
I squeeze Maggie's hand and tug it so she looks at me. She gives me a look of confusion, but I give her a smile. I take my other hand and point to her sharply.
"What are you saying?" Deanna asks. Maggie still seems confused by the gesture. So I put my finger down and instead hug her side tightly, hopefully giving an indication to who my family is. I press a kiss to her cheek and look to her expectantly.
"I see." Deanna says, and I look over to her. And there it is again; that smile. "She's your family too."
I nod energetically and point to the door I walked into earlier. And then with both hands I attempt to make a huge circle. All of them.
"They're all your family." Deanna corrects. I nod again, this time smiling. "I've asked that question to all of you here. And I've gotten the same response each time."
Yet again my head bobs, my eyes glowing earnestly. They are all my family. Every single one of them.
"Sounds like I want to be part of this family." Deanna smiles to me and Maggie. Maggie presses a soft kiss to my forehead, a gesture of kindness for calling her my kin. I snuggle to her side momentarily, basking in the moment. It's almost peaceful.
But the moment doesn't last too long. Deanna stands up and the two of us follow suit. "I think I got all I needed here. Thank you two."
She begins to head toward the door, waiting for us to follow. Before I walk with the others, though, I gingerly pick up a chocolate chip cookie. They're huge in size, and there are many little brown spots over the dough. Just like the ones my birth mom used to make. They're soft and easily bend when I hold it on just one side. Maggie and Deanna look to me, waiting for a reaction when I finally bit into it.
The chocolate and dough explode with flavor in my mouth. Oh god, it's good. It's really good. I savor all the chocolate that melts on my tongue and I, "mmm," at the sweet taste.
"My friend Jessie likes to make them." Deanna tells me. "You'll like her. She has two kids of her own so she knows how you guys like 'em."
My hand goes underneath my mouth to catch the crumbs that escape. Delicious. I stuff the rest into my mouth savagely, making chipmunk cheeks. I don't care about the appearance; this is the most delicious thing I've ever eaten, ever.
"C'mon." Maggie points her head to the door as I finish the last bite. She's smiling at me. "We still have stuff to do."
"You can take another cookie if you want though." Deanna gives me a wink. "I promise I won't tell."
I give a sheepish head shake back to her since I don't take another one. I'd probably throw up if I do.
The three of us go outside and Deanna takes us to the back of the building. One of the Alexandrians comes over with a wheel-able bin, giving us a small wave.
"This is where we need to ask you to give up the guns." Deanna projects her voice loudly. I shake my head vigorously but I don't think she sees me. That's the general consensus of the group. We don't want to lose our weapons. For all we know, they won't give them back.
"They're still your guns." Deanna explains. "You can check them out whenever you go beyond the wall. But inside here, we store them for safety."
Then some of us go to the bin, dropping each shiny weapon into it with unease. Carl beside me strides to it and drops his handguns in. He doesn't even seem fazed by it. How can you not?
He looks back to me and gestures me over, a smile adorning his features. You're happy about this? How? Shakily, I go up to the bin and grab my Glock out of its holster. The second I drop it in I feel naked. I want to keep it. I need to keep it. I don't know if we're allowed to keep our knives or not, so I put it in there as well. So naked. This doesn't feel good. It's not right at all.
But when I put the bloody blade in the bucket, Carl grabs my hand. I look to his eyes and notice they are shining with excitement. Mine are completely different. They're dull and scared. Together we go back to our little spot in the group and wait for Carol to put her guns in the bucket.
She gives a sheepish smile to the Alexandrian as she attempts to take the large rifle off her shoulder. With clumsy hands, she grabs it and tries to shrug it off one side and manages to get the strap stuck around her arm. With an awkward laugh, she quickly shakes her arm to get the strap unstuck and she puts it on top, making sure it doesn't slide off the others. Clumsy? Carol is many things, but clumsy isn't one of them.
"I should've brought another bin." The Alexandrian gives a laugh. Yeah you should've.
My hand goes to my empty sheath at my side, watching as she leaves the area with our weapons. I feel so exposed now. How do these people live without weapons?
Two houses. Deanna gives us. Two. Houses. Rick and Carl went to see them with Aaron while the rest of us go to visit the pantry with Deanna. She's taking us on a little tour of Alexandria, showing us the important parts.
"We have a system in place to ration all of this." She explains to us as we walk around. "Olivia has a checklist for it. You need anything, you go to her."
I want to cry at how much food there is. Holy. Shit.
There's cans upon cans of everything. Tiny packets of jell-o, insta mashed potatoes, veggies, even chicken. They have some livestock somewhere (Deanna didn't go into much detail,) but apparently there's not as much as they wanted. However, I can count at least twelve dead chickens and a pile of eggs stored away in the corner of the pantry.
"This is only the food portion." Olivia says, fixing her glasses to rest on her nose. "We have toilet paper, paper towels, shampoo, conditioner... All the cleaning supplies and odds and ends, in another garage. Jessie should be bringing some stuff over to your houses now."
I can't begin to comprehend how much food I'm surrounded by. And the thought of having toilet paper again? Oh, how I've missed Charmin.
I take a step away from the shelves and the rest of the people. This is too much for me.
As the garage door opens, I jump at the sudden noise. It's Aaron, back from showing Rick and Carl the houses.
"They're settling in now." Aaron tells Deanna quietly, just above a whisper. She nods to him.
"When you're all ready, we'll go visit the other pantry." Deanna tells us. And slowly we all head to her and Aaron. "Before we go, does anyone else want to see your new homes?"
I hop out of the line quickly, almost jumping over to the two. I can't handle all of this right now.
Deanna gives a nod to my enthusiastic move out of line. "Anyone else?"
The rest of my group shake their heads. Aaron looks over to me. "Looks like it's just you and me, Alyssa." I shrug.
The doors open again and Deanna and the rest of the group take a left, whereas Aaron and I take the right.
The walk is silent as we trek through the streets of Alexandria. My eyes hone in on every little detail of the streets, the greens, and the houses. Each house looks the same, though. Only tiny differences set them apart, like the color of the roof being a shade off or the number of windows on the second floor.
I'm looking at the top of the houses for so long that I almost miss the smudge of color flying from behind a house. I stop moving and tap Aaron's arm furiously, pointing to the quick person running.
"What?" He asks. Then he follows my index finger as the blob moves fast past the next house, almost past my line of sight. "Oh, that's just Sam."
I raise an eyebrow to him. As we begin walking again, he explains further, "Sam is one of the four teens that we have here. He doesn't like the walls as much as you guys like being split apart."
Oh. I understand that. I feel trapped in here, too.
So I nod to the explanation. "You'll meet him soon enough. He's more of a lone wolf than anything, though. No family. He came in on his own."
Awe, that sucks.
"Ah, here we are." Aaron points to the last two at the end of the road, almost right beside the walls. They are huge. And they're both ours. My mouth gapes in surprise. "C'mon." He jerks his head to the last one and we go to the door together. He knocks on it for us.
Carl opens the door, a large grin playing on his face. "Room for one more?" Aaron gestures to me.
"Of course. Come in." Carl answers. He opens the door fully to let me in. He tells Aaron a quick thank you for bringing me over before the Alexandrian leaves and he shuts the door.
My eyes roam over the rooms, bulging out of my head as I see the vast space that's, for the most part, empty. There's a kitchen to my right, open and spacious, and the biggest living room I've ever seen to my left. Near the back door there's a set of stairs leading up to the second level. Across from them is a closed off room, most likely a bedroom, because everything else is open. I can hear the sound of a shower running.
"What do you think?" Carl asks behind me, his arms wrapping behind my figure so I lean into him. "Huge, right? Like a mansion."
I nod, careful not to hit him with the back of my head. They can't be serious. And we get two of these!
"Dad's taking a shower right now in the master bedroom. They're connected. Wanna see upstairs?"
He lets his arms drop from around me, but he intertwines our fingers together as he steps in front of me, waggling his eyebrows for effect. I give a somewhat excited shrug of my shoulders to the request. He pulls me along as we go up the stairs to the hallway.
There's two more bedrooms up here, each connected to their own tiny bathroom. One bedroom has a twin bed, the other has a queen-sized bed. The bathrooms both consist of a toilet, sink, and a shower with a curtain. At the end of the hallway are what looks to be like an old study, but there's no desk left in it.
Carls' hand tugs me over into the room with the twin bed and we flop on it.
"So? Whatddya think?" His arm is flung over my shoulder and his fingers lightly ghost over my skin, going up and down slowly. I revel in the touch.
I don't say anything but instead snuggle closer to him, my head curving into the crook of his neck. I press a kiss to his skin before I sigh into it.
"You know what I kind of want to do?" He asks. I look up at his face. "Shower."
I chuckle. "What?" He teases. "Being clean is a sin?"
Sure, Carl. Sure it is.
"Well," he stands up from his spot and I sit up in front of him, "if it is, I reeeeeally want to sin. C'mon, you get this one. I'll take the other shower."
He stands in front of my and grabs my hands, leaning down to give me a peck on the lips. However, I want more than just a peck. So as he leaves my lips, I grab him again with my own, leaning in to give him a strong kiss. I let go of his hands and tangle them in his hair, tugging his face down to mine harshly. He grips my hips tightly in the process, making me gasp in surprise. With my mouth slightly agape, Carl makes the decision to lightly bite my bottom lip, his tongue lightly trailing along it as his hands roam my back. Holy shit. He's never done that before. I think I like it. I moan into his mouth as he bites my lip again, this time a bit harder; possessive and dominant. I definitely like it.
With one last hard peck, I open my eyes and look up to him. With a foggy mind, he stands up straight again, his arms lazily swinging back to his sides. "That was-"
My tongue glides along my bottom lip slowly, my eyes watching his darkly. I notice how nervous-yet-wanting he seems respond at the action.
"You are not helping." He nearly growls out. Though the growl is not angry. It's heavy, as his voice is, with desire. And I'm sure if I said anything my voice would be too.
"Okay, showering. I'm gonna shower." He tells me, his arm pointing to the door. He quickly makes a couple steps toward the door. A cold one, I think slyly to myself. I give him a small wave of my hand as he leaves the room, swinging the wood shut behind him.
As I stand up, I notice how hard my heart is pounding in my chest from the quick make-out session. My brain is hazy with the feel of his tongue trailing along my lip.
Okay, I'm supposed to be showering. Gotta shower. Squeaky clean, or some shit.
I stand up from the bed and head into the small bathroom, surveying the shower that took up most of the right side. The walls are all the same peach-color, with the fixtures a dark brown. Wow, what a great color scheme.
I strip out of my dirty clothes and toss them into the corner, and I turn the shower on. And it runs. It doesn't take long for it to warm up. As I step into the water, I take note of how hot it is. I can feel my skin burning. I don't care.
I take my damn time under the scorching water. It's been so long since I took a shower, a real shower. And in here are so many products, all fancy scents and high-end brands. The shampoo I use is citrus scented, and the conditioner is mint. The body wash is some cucumber thing. And there's three different loofas hanging on a shower hook, each a different color. On the side of the shower, away from the other products, is a bottle of shaving cream and a razor. Why would they put all this stuff in here when no one even lived here? They really had that much to waste? But still, I take advantage of it and begin to shave my underarms and legs. I've never done it before, and I already notice tiny scarlet marks along my newly naked legs. I don't even care about it. I notice that the scent for the cream is strawberry tangerine. Citrus, mint, cucumber, and strawberry tangerine. I'm gonna walk out of here smelling like some sort of cheap fruit salad!
By the time I'm done, the bathroom is filled with steam and the mirror on the wall has fogged up completely. I wipe a section of it so I see my reflection. My hazel eyes are as dull as I thought they would be. However, my face looks brighter than before. It must be from the fact that I'm no longer wearing a layer of dirt and blood on my skin anymore. It almost makes me feel bare. And I notice that my legs are burning from the choppy shaving job I did.
I quickly get dressed and make my way to the other room to wait for Carl. I hear the shower running still, so I head down the stairs on my own and find myself in an awkward predicament.
Rick, clean shaven and towards the end of a haircut, and a blonde woman behind him, holding a pair of scissors to his hair. They both turn to me, and I have a, "deer in the headlights," look.
"Hey." Ricks gruff voice says to me. I wave from my spot. The blonde gives two pats on his shoulders and he takes it as a sign that he's finished. He stands up and gives her the towel that was previously perched on his shoulders to catch hair.
"Alyssa, this is Jessie." He gestures to the blonde behind him. "Jessie, this is my friends daughter."
"Nice to meet you." She says curtly, a smile on her face as she shakes out loose hair out of the towel. I just give a nod in response. I think of the cookie I had earlier. Deanna said that Jessie made them.
"She used to be a hair stylist before this." Rick tells me, striding over to my side of the room. "She just made me look twenty years younger."
Jessie chuckles at the compliment. "Well, anyone with a good pair of scissors can do that."
His hand runs through his hair, which is visibly much shorter than yesterday. I don't know how I feel about it just yet. And the beard! The nonexistent beard! He looks completely different from this morning. I wonder if he feels as naked as I do.
My hands go to his cheeks, ghosting over where his graying hair would normally be. He gives a deep chuckle at the action, his hands going to hold mine. "I know. It's weird." I nod animatedly and silently laugh as I drop my hands from his face.
"I don't have anywhere to be." Jessie tells me, bringing my attention back to her. "Maybe I could give you a trim too?"
The offer is met with silence. Do I really want a haircut? I never thought I would get a haircut ever again.
"She selectively mute." Ricks tells her, and he turns back to me. This time, all he's addressing is me. In a quieter voice, he asks, "Do you want one? You don't need to take the offer if you don't want to."
My mouth opens at the question, but I don't know how to answer. Do I?
So I give him a shrug in response, thinking again for a moment. Then I make a decision. Sure. I nod to him, then to Jessie. She then pats the top of the chair, signaling me to sit.
"I'm gonna go check on Carl." Rick tells me. "You gonna be okay on your own down here?" And again I nod. I can do this. He gives me a half-hug as he walks away from us and up the stairs.
"So, anything in mind?" Jessie asks as I sit down. "Bangs, layers, framing your face, anything?"
I quickly shake my head to all the suggestions. Way too many options.
"Okay, that was too fast." She laughs to my response. "How about this?" She ruffles through a box on the ground. How did I not notice that before? It's huge!
The box has toilet paper, paper towels, baby toys and food, aluminum foil, everything. It's like someone just went to Stop and Shop. At the bottom is an old People! magazine, which is what Jessie fishes out. I see 2010 printed on the front cover. Something like, "2010's Hottest Artists!"
"Here, pick a cut and I'll do it for you." She hands me the crumpled paper, and I gingerly flip through it, looking at all the celebrity cuts. Most of them are either too long or too short for my liking, but I come across one that sticks out to me. Rose McGowan is printed boldly underneath the photo. Her hair is layered yet short as it stops at shoulder length. The front strands are slightly shorter than the rest, framing her slim face. Her flaming red hair is gorgeous and curly, a beautiful eye catcher. From the tiny description, she used to be on a show called Charmed. It was a, "Where Are They Now?" story.
I point to the picture, and Jessie takes the magazine from my hands. "Short now, huh?"
I nod and run my finger through my long hair. I'm gonna miss it. This mop of brown has almost grown down to the small of my back. It's going to feel so weird without it. But I feel like I need it. Maybe if I shock myself like this, I'll genuinely feel better about moving in to a place like this. A place where mansions and haircuts are given away at will, and twelve chickens are considered a bad amount of food.
She puts the towel on my shoulders, flicking my hair onto it with practiced ease. Her hands card through the locks, shaking it out and separating the strands. With a comb and some clips she grabbed out of the box, she begins to separate my hair into different sections and takes the scissors to the back of my head. And thus the cut begins.
Snip, snip, snip. The quiet sound fills my ears, and I begins to feel the differences immediately. With long hair, I couldn't tell how heavy it was. With the short strands being made, it's like ten pounds was lost in the fractions of a millisecond. Each snip takes a literal weight off my shoulders, and I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or not.
When Jessie's finished, I feel completely naked. My normal chocolate brown locks are at my shoulders instead of my back, no longer covering me. I feel exposed to the world, not shrouded away as I like to be. She hands me a mirror to look into, and I gasp at how different I look.
It's almost like looking at a new person. My hair! I want it back, I want it back. I repeat the mantra in my head. Why the hell did I think this would shock me into liking Alexandria?
But as I twist my head in the reflection, I begin to enjoy the way my hair flips around my face. How each time I cock my head to the side, the short locks slide from behind my ear and down to my face. Okay, maybe it's not so bad.
"I'm taking that as a, 'you like it,'?" Jessie asks. She takes the towel from my shoulder and shake it out, letting the cut strands litter the floor. Look at how long it was!
I nod to the question, giving an awkward smile to her.
My eyes find my reflection in the mirror again. They're still dull. New cut, new me.
Not really.
A/N: Soooo? Do you like it? Do ya, do ya, do ya?! Alyssa and Carl will get many more make-out sessions like this (exciting, huh?) And they'll meet the other teens next chapter. That'll be a blast too!
And, in case you're wondering, this is what Alyssa's new hair looks like (y'know, besides being red and curly.) .
Feel free to send me a review or a PM :)