“Why!” The woman was aghast. “Why did you do this?”
“It was necessary.” The girl’s eyes were fixed on the mirror before her, entrapped in her own endless gaze. She held a knife in her right hand. “I needed to. This is not to spite you, I promise.”
“Gods...” Distressed, the other woman came nearer. She ran her fingers tenderly through the tangled, uneven locks. Her voice was tense, her body tired, her boundless patience put to a test. “Talk to me, please. Why did you do this?”
The girl’s dark brown eyes shifted from her own visage to the woman’s, still gazing into the mirror. She tilted her head, considering the question quietly. As the woman continued to stroke her head, chunks of hair fell out through her fingers, littering her shoulders and the floor like dark snow.
“He said he-” She loosened her grip on the knife. It clattered downwards, joining the hair and dirt that covered the ground. “That I was pretty, beautiful, desirable.” A short gesture to her haphazardly chopped hair, now above her shoulders and collarbones. Understanding dawned on the woman’s features.
“Oh,” the woman’s words were gentle. “Do not let his words ring within your mind. You are that you are, remember? Even if he cannot comprehend it.”
“Why did he choose me?” The girl’s brows creased together, continuing to peer at the woman’s reflection as if she could give the answers she sought. “Why did he not let me leave?”
“His heart is dipped in the darkness that engulfs this land. You know this.” Patiently. “He may not realize it yet himself, perhaps never, but this is nothing you could have anticipated.”
“He doesn’t understand was he has done?” More a statement than a question.
“I doubt he ever will. He must think you are punishing him. Do not let his misled actions change your path.” The woman gave a fleeting embrace, soft as her tone. “You must clean this.”
“I can, I will, I must.” Her eyes, finally, shifted from the mirror to that which was tangible before her. “I want him to let me have my existence in peace. There is nothing more I can do for him.” Her voice rose, increasingly upset as she spoke. “He thinks I have more to offer, but I don’t. Why can he not understand this?”
“I know,” A hand on her shoulder, soothing and comforting. “I know. That is all I can offer in explanation. He may have logic, twisted and confused, but even if you knew this, it would not help you.” A squeeze to her shoulder. The girl choked down her emotions, her chin lowering in a slow nod. She brought herself down to the floor, a hand touching the scattered plain brown locks.
Then she set to work.