With the poor light that comes through a hole in the wall I spot the hair clipper. Maybe tomorrow. I close my eyes because I realise I have nothing else to do. How stupid it is to pretend you’re sleeping in order to actually fall asleep. My tense body can’t keep fighting the tiredness.
I have lost track of time. The hair clipper is staring at me. I wish I had done it yesterday. It scares me that when someone isn’t aware of something, it’s simply non-existing. Everyone around me was well aware. I don’t know many people, but they’re enough.
Testing my bones, I try to get up. I feel grey. Not metaphorically, but physically. Before being able to do anything else, I kneel. Regardless of the countless thoughts that cross my mind, my face remains inexpressive. I hold the hair clipper and I think it’s time. But I can’t, because that would mean accepting it.
It’s been over seventy two hours since she kept me prisoner. My body won’t last much longer. I have to do it without thinking twice. I’m done. I rush to the bathroom and I remember I never checked how to turn the hair clipper on. I figure it out. Later my anxiety vanishes, almost as if the hair clipper scared it away. Ten minutes after, I don’t have hair in my head anymore, and I draw a smile on my face.