Rat's Nest

I watch the fire burn for a while before turning away towards the kitchen. Grabbing some eggs and bacon from the fridge, I start up the stove and begin making breakfast.

           

My mother joins me shortly after the food is done, probably woken from the smell of the bacon wafting through the house. We eat in silence, and I take the plates up to the counter when we are done. I wash them quickly and set them on a drying rack. We both silently go back up the stairs. I drop my blankets off in my bedroom, now warm from the fire.

I head over to the bathroom and wash my face. I look up in the mirror, water still dripping down my face and into the sink. My eyelashes stick together, drooping low from the weight of the water. Bright green eyes stare back at me, now wide awake from the ice cold water. I drag a hand through my golden brown hair, pulling it back from my face. My mother was right about the knots. I tug at the ends of my hair, a full rat’s nest burrowed at the nape of my neck. I shift my eyes away from the mirror and shuffle my hands through a drawer filled with bathroom supplies. An old toothbrush, floss, hair pins, elastics, and finally I find what I am looking for. Stuffed in the back of the drawer is a brush. I pull it out, tugging it as it gets caught on something. I finally get it released and then firmly close the drawer. Bringing the brush to the rat’s nest, and dreading every moment that is about to occur, I yank hard on my hair, attempting to comb out the mess. My eyes swell with tears as the brush threatens to make me bald. Finally, and not a moment too soon, the knot gives way and my hair is free. I rub my scalp. I bet there will be a bruise there; I should have listened to my mother.