Chapter Twenty Three - Good Impressions
Hannah
I dragged the brush through my hair over and over. I loved the way it felt, the slight scratching on my scalp, the tugging of the strands, as I pulled the mass of red-brown locks over my shoulder and brushed it over and over. I smelled faintly of strawberries, and I loved the texture, so soft and smooth and clean. Always before my hair had been limp, dirty, and greasy. I pulled it forward, so that it would cover as much of my scar as possible, and braided it loosely. I didn’t have a mirror to see the results, but I felt nice.
I glared over at Heath, who had still done nothing to prepare himself. He was staring dejectedly into the fire, and rubbing absently at his shoulder as if it still pained him. I propped my hands on my hips a
