S.O.S.

I can proudly say I don't watch soap operas (including battlestar galactica) and therefore have no idea what one actually sounds like. This is more like a story in installments. Rest assured it will probably never be completed.

She felt the face that had haunted her everywhere the light reflected: still flat, ordinary, masculine and dirty. This face that had held her back so long was now her ticket to a new life. With that inspiration her hands dropped to the knife and lifted the cold handle to her jaw. Bracing herself, she pictured the quick slash that would lead to a new identity. Over and over again her mind saw hair cascading to the floor in a glorious stream, heralding her arrival at independence. Counting to three she tried it for real. The knife slipped and fell to the ground, narrowly avoiding her hand. Trying again, hot with embarrassment she started sawing away. As smooth as it looked, her hair still would not cut like butter. Thoughts of inadequacy crept in the space left by this blunder. Knowing she couldn't finish out this day if she didn't believe it was possible, she chased them away and focused on the task at hand. Sitting in Papoo's study formulating a plan, Dorothy had known this seemingly trivial step would be difficult. Sitting here hacking at her most prized possession with no guidance but the rippling reflection given by the stream she realized she hadn't known at all. Even through her tears she felt a growing sense of freedom. With every stroke she was moving. Moving towards freedom, moving from safety, moving towards apathy, moving from the superficial, moving towards the future, moving from the past.