After a million rounds of dying her hair, it finally rebelled. Fried and brittle it refused to cooperate as she attempted to do something with it. She knew she shouldn't, but she had died her hair a different color nearly once a week. It was the only thing she still had control over, the only part of her he had yet to claim.

Most of her clothes had been burned, and what she had left went through an insane inspection almost nightly. To describe the ridiculous things he would do and say made her feel silly. No one would ever believe her, how could they possibly believe her? No sane person would do what he did, and surely no sane person would allow it to happen day after day. It was impossible to avoid his insanity; he would check her clothing, smelling it for any hint of cologne. Her underwear were checked carefully, and also smelled. It was a no win situation, if they smelled too clean it was because she changed them in the middle of the day to hide what she had done. If they smelled too dirty it was because she was sleeping with another man. No matter what she did, it was never right, and she gave up trying a long time ago. She couldn't even eat what she wanted to, if her diet changed in anyway it was because she was trying to lose weight for someone else. If she wore makeup, it was for someone else, if she changed shampoo, it was for someone else, and the list went on and on.

Standing in front of the mirror, she no longer recognized the woman standing there. Pale white skin, dark shadows, and badly colored red hair were all she saw. Sadness filled her eyes, emptiness, hollowness and fear were all that remained of the woman she was. Tired and broken, she dressed and left with him to go to the store.

Deciding to dye her hair again, this time she went for blonde, hoping to just tear away any last thread of identity she had left. Maybe pale hair would hide her pale face. But it didn't work; it only succeeded in making her hair orange. Wanting to get it cut in a last ditch effort to minimize the ugliness, but knowing he would never allow it, she just left it. Suddenly she found herself fighting off his attempts to allow him to cut it. What in the world was he thinking? Confused she tried to avoid it for as long as she could, but he wore her down. Giving in, she sat with her eyes closed as she felt the scissors cut away at her once glorious mane. Silently praying he would miss and cut her, she waited. Praying he would actually be good at this, she kept her eyes shut until he was done. Fighting off the tears that threatened to take over at her betrayal of herself, she opened her eyes.

Completely speechless, she just stared at the horror looking back at her. Grinning wickedly at her, he laughed a deep merciless laugh.

"How you like it? Butch! You really look like shit now."

Laughing to himself he left her alone with what was left of her hair. Screaming at herself for what she had done, knowing he was thoroughly enjoying that he had backed her into a corner and removed her last shred of dignity. Pulling at the uneven chunks of hair, she tried to tell herself that it wasn't as bad as it looked, but who was she kidding. He had cut her hair so bad that he could almost guarantee that she wouldn't leave the house unless she absolutely had to.

Feeling the anger she locked away rising and fighting to get out she attempted to silence it, but to no avail. Again her stupid friend decided to pay her a visit and a bravery she thought he had beaten down so well, stood up and pushed her out the door to face him. Furious at his actions, and his enjoyment of her despair she lashed out.

"What is wrong with you? How could you lie to me like that? Telling me you used to cut your sister's hair because your family couldn't afford to have it cut at a salon? Promising me that it would be okay, that it would look fine! Look at me! Look what you did!"

Getting up off the couch and heading her direction he answered her questions.

"I didn't make what was already hideous look any worse; you did that to yourself. It's your fault you look like that. You're the one who told me I could cut your hair, you should have known better."

Not sure how to respond to this, she floundered and found herself backing away from him slowly. Thinking that somehow his twisted logic made sense, that it really was her fault she looked like this now. Everything else was always her fault, why not this too? 'NO!' she screamed inside her head, this was not her fault! It was his fault for lying to her, badgering her, and doing a bad job. It was also his fault that he was now making fun of her and laughing at her misery, all of it was his fault. The dam she had created inside burst and she screamed back at him, refusing to back down this time.

"Excuse me? You honestly expect me to just swallow that horse shit? What gives you the right? You sit there and lie to ME, and then cut MY hair, and then LAUGH, and it is somehow MY fault?"

Once she stopped screaming she realized that he had backed her into a corner. Eyes darting like a frightened rabbit she looked for a way out. His hand grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. Feeling his fingers digging into her skin, she tried not to show that it hurt.