Marissa awoke in a start. It was the same dream that kept pinching her awake once more. She nervously twirled her hair in her fingers. Her amber eyes scanned the room and slowly she confirmed it was her bedroom. She felt the texture of her voluminous hair and it bothered her. It felt inconsistent in it's bulk and weight. She swore that it threaded itself through her fingers of it's own accord and it would move without a breeze pushing it. The sway of her head felt right, yet her hair seemingly misbehaved for the first hour or two after she woke. This feeling returned to her an hour before she'd set down for bed at night.

She'd kick on her bunny slippers she kept near the bed and walk over to the kitchen. She'd turn on the coffee pot and load it with her morning drink. She'd then trudge to the bathroom and wash her face and clean her teeth. Every part of the routine was normal to her until the day she had severe dandruff drop from her hair. She assumed she dried her scalp out so badly she'd gotten cradle cap. She searched on ways to treat it and found a chemical slurry of products that would resolve the matter. Her hair had never been thicker and shone radiantly after only a week of the treatments. She meticulously lathered and rinsed and followed every direction on each bottle and every tip her stylist gave her.

Yet flake after flake would fall from her hair until she eventually observed the dandruff. She never thought that the skin would be something else's. She picked at her hair with a comb and delicately hummed while soft pop played from her phone. She found a clump of it and as it fell to the sink's basin she leaned in to observe it. Never had she done so closely, so intently. She stared at what she believed she saw until it was clear to her. She made every active attempt to deny it. Explain away every part of what she saw and what reality she endured for the greater part of a season. But no matter what explains she wove, it didn't amount to anything as crushing as the truth.

Her truth that she lived was that it was a snake's skin. She clearly saw where it's eyes and snout where, where it's neck connected to it's head. She attempted to look up toward the mirror but her shoulders locked her neck in place. Her shoulders tightly pulled backwards to help discourage her. She ran the tap and splashed herself with cool water and stepped away. She'd see straight after her coffee, she believed with conviction. Except it wasn't true. Despite all that she did she kept seeing the snakes. The thin bodies and thick ones writhed together. They slithered over each other on her head. They'd peek out of the curtains of her brown hair and sometimes nervously glace down at Marissa. Tongues would peck out and flit briefly to scent the environment.

Panic set into her. It gripped her heart like oceanic pressure and made her heart pulse so hard it was in her throat. She couldn't explain what fate befell her. Nothing this extraordinary could be sensibly parsed by her and it led way to sensational thoughts. Half formed conclusions from quarter formed sentence fragments raced in her head. She gripped her sink's vanity so hard her knuckles were white and they ached while they held her upright and steady. The snakes weren't hostile toward her, and instead started to survey the bathroom. Their heads looked at all the shampoos and products and grooming tools and some tried to curl around them. They slowly figured out how, and muscled Marissa's head down to let them reach. They did their best to attempt to brush it.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

It was uneven and went against the normal way she brushed. It was done with strokes so short it served more to muss the hair than brush it to some semblance of style. She laughed out of nervousness. Terror struck her first yet it was joy that now struck her chord. She slowly came to shed her unease around them and it set way to confusion. Was this some psychosis? Some advanced delusion stemming from a recent trauma or perhaps something so buried in her psyche it only could just now become processed?

Her focus went hazy, and she felt her legs move. She knew the muscles were in use as her toned calves pulsed with the light pressure of each footfall. When she took stock of her surroundings she didn't immediately know where she was. The wallpaper and tile was a familiar shade of light wood grain and deeply sage greens. The sound of a spoon stirring against the wall of a cup is what made her realize what was happening.

“You're tough, Rissa. What he did was a sin, but you'll bounce back.” Her eyes widened as she saw her best friend. She made an uneasy smile as she saw her. It quickly cracked into a frown as she felt the phantom sensation of hands all over her body. Feeling of hard pressure and squeezing from a phantom assailant who's face she couldn't forget. Each time the details got more murky and shifted to be more uncanny but she still knew the story. The sequence of events that lead to what was a drawn out trial that she barely recalls. Marissa can't quite remember if he got convicted for his crime and put on a registry or if he walked. The snakes in her hair made themselves known as they rushed to go nowhere. She deduced what happened based from their reply. She startled and leaned back in her chair that scraped against the floor. Amanda frowned, and reached out to hold Marissa's hands. She smiled a sad smile, one of uncertainty and disquiet.

“Amanda. I'm gonna sound like a basket case but just please answer this. Do I have snakes in my hair?”

Amanda felt awash with decisions. She thought to laugh but the lines of worry on her friends face made her reconsider. She answered straight. “No, Marissa. No you don't.” It made no sense to her. She slowly rose her hand to touch where she felt them. Marissa felt the textured scales and smoothness of their skin and didn't say anything further. The two shared a long, awkward silence and drank coffee together. She knew academically that trauma can cause all manner of psychological issues but she didn't think tactile hallucinations were one of them. The girls finished an uncomfortably silent meal together and Marissa put on gloves. She set to cleaning the cutlery and plates and Amanda nervously considered a hug but decided against sudden touch on someone who had just recently been assaulted in the way Marissa had.

“Rissa?” She said softly and just over the sound of the water gushing from the tap. “Stay with me for a few weeks. I think you'd feel better if you weren't so alone.” Marissa nodded, unsure at what else to do in this moment. She finished the dishes and her mask broke. A cascade of emotions escaped and she clung to Amanda. Her arms wrapped around her best friend in a mighty embrace. Fretfully sobbing Marissa released all the pent up emotions she could. She gasped for breath in Amanda's arms while adrenaline coursed through her body. Amanda shushed her and gently rocked her like she was a baby. Uncertain in what actions she could take to cool her friend down and soothe her. When the two stop embracing Amanda had another sad smile while looking at her friend. “I'll be home sooner than normal. I'm gonna use my PTO for half days for the week. While I'm at work why don't you get all your comfy clothes and a few pillows or plushies or something to get comfy with. The spare key is in the drawer.”

Marissa managed to actually smile at what her friend offered, and faintly said 'yeah'. She didn't know what the coming week had in store- but she knew that with her best friend close by it just might be that much easier to endure with her truest friend by her side.