Chapter 15: And he cut my lip and he cut my heart so I could not drink
June – Nurse Porter had insisted for him to call her by a given name after the first month at the clinic, and Vlad had caved in, because she was the only friendly face he saw daily – hummed as she looked him over thoughtfully. She looked like she knew what her decision – about what? He didn't know but it was June and he trusted her he didn't fear her reactions her thoughts her motives then again he hadn't doubted Jack either – would be, and this was only confirming her thoughts.
"Yes, Indeed. Do sit up, Vlad. It's time for a haircut."
Vlad blinked.
He let her do what she wanted, though – she wasn't wrong. He did what she told him, sat as she wanted him to in the bathroom. There was no point in making this more difficult than necessary.
Perhaps he'd feel a bit less wrong-footed about his skin teeth cheeks shadows hands hair after a haircut. The weight and the length would feel weird, but it'd be normal because the haircut would have changed it.
it might even mask the real reason why it felt so unnatural lately
it wouldn't change the color though
"What length do you want it? I know you're used to keeping it long, but it might be easier on you if you got it shorter for your stay here. I know it gets in the way sometimes."
Vlad did not bite his lips if he did it would press on his gums in ways it shouldn't it would point out how his teeth weren't quite how they used to be it would force against the skin layers it might break again and bleed slightly-too-luminous blood.
He didn't want his hair too short, he'd never had it only a few inches before and he didn't think he could deal with another change right now – still, June was right. The doctor who came in occasionally always had to get it out of his face when she wanted to check something the eyes the pimples the broken lips and sometimes it caught in things.
"Can you... I don't... Maybe chin-level? Still long, but less length to wrangle?"
June smiled as she opened a bag with hair-styling accessories.
"Sure enough! I can't guarantee you hair-saloon quality, but you won't look ridiculous, I can promise."
Vlad really didn't care about looking ridiculous right now.
He let her do her work, only answering distractedly when she asked him a question.
She was the one who took care of him all the time, he knew that. Bianco dropped by every week, but the older man had other things to do, responsibilities because other people still had a life unlike Vlad other people were still expected to do their work. The doctor came every day, too, but she didn't spend time with him like June did.
after all why would you take care of a corpse walking or not?
it didn't make sense to spend time making it look nice over and over again day after day to make sure it didn't injure itself to ask how it felt
June made sure his bed sheets were changed, that his hospital gown wasn't bloodied, that he could do what he needed to in the bathroom. She'd brought him nail clippers the other day.
nails that kept growing despite his dead hands hair that kept getting longer despite its bonish pallor
Vlad did what he could not to think about corpses' hair and nails that kept growing. It was an urban legend, it wasn't true, it was just the skin dehydrating and shrinking around the already-grown nails and hair. He knew that.
If he asked the doctor, she would tell him that of course his hair and nails were still growing – after all, he was alive.
he knew that
"let me tell you a story children a story from my homeland a story of fear and horror a story to scare the young at night and keep the grown-ups prudent a story to remind the elders of humility"
"a story of the cold deads clutching to life their nails grating against their coffin"
"Dasha"
"Vladislav"
"are you listening?"
June put down her scissors, and looked her patient over with a small smile.
"Looks about right. You know, you look like you belong in a novel, fantasy, perhaps, or fantastic, with all that silver! Now, I must ask..."
Vlad focused back on her – ignoring his reflection in the mirror.
He could feel damp hair against his scalp, dripping slowly over and into the washbowl. It felt lighter than wet hair should be, but at least he could pretend it was because he had less length to bear.
June was handing him a towel.
"I thought about how dull this all had to be for you, Vlad. Is there anything you'd want to pass the time? Security will let me get books in, and perhaps a few other things, if I ask."