26. Black wig
Sometimes, memories can be tricky. Our mind changes them bit by bit without our knowledge. The way we remember charges them with difficult emotions and changes our perception. How can we trust our brains? We cannot.
Anne sways her body before a long mirror in the hallway. She giggles as she savors her new look. Her ocean-blue eyes popped out in contrast to her black hair. Hair that wasn't her own.
Their father was already gone for a week. The money he left them was no longer on the fridge. 'I'll have to look for a job.'
A kettle whistled, and Tristan poured the hot water over the expired teabag.
Kristina's investigation didn't move an inch. The thought of the murderer of her mother on the loose made her sick.
Tristan looked at the oversweetened black tea in his hand. It was dark, brownish, almost black. He took a sip. No amount of sugar could sweeten this bitter tea.
The color of this flat-tasting liquid reminded Kristina of the dark - no, black hair of a woman she crossed paths with on the day of Millen's death. The woman whom she most likely won't be able to find to stop. The woman who, she is sure, killed Millen - the one who was living freely in the past, free of justice.
The tea was way too bitter. Tristan poured it out in the sink and sighed. The bitterness rolled on his tongue.
Kristina wondered if Tristan truly liked his coffee black and without sugar. 'Surely his tastebuds didn't.'
Anne played with her new dark hair, swirling the loose curls on her finger. She spun gracefully in front of the mirror with her arms spread. She lost her footing in a pirouette. A loud bang startled Tristan. Anne knocked over a vase. She gasped and hurried to the kitchen for a broom.
Tristan froze in place as Anne lightly ran around him. His eyes trace the long black hair. A sense of familiarity washes over him. 'Their height is the same.' His eyes widen as Anne hurries back to the hallway. Without further thought, perhaps from fear, he followed her. 'What is this feeling?'
Anne tucked a sneaky strand of hair behind her ear as she swept the shards.
The black hair cascading down her back sent a jolt through him. 'It couldn't be... could it?'
"Did you dye your hair?" Tristan asked carefully.
"What?" Anne turned to him with surprise. "When did I-" She touched her hair as Tristan cut her off. "It's black," he stated directly.
Perhaps we shouldn't trust our brains entirely. Not everything is connected as we would sometimes like to believe.
Anne smiled and took off the black wig. "You mean this?" She caresses the wig in her hand like one would an animal. "This is for a school play," Anne chuckled playfully. The wig in her hand felt rough, like the fur of a stray dog, nowhere near human hair.
"It suits me, doesn't it?"
The black wig was her escape, her denial of the harsh reality. A wig darker than her thoughts.
"I prefer your natural hair."
Perhaps evolution deceived us. Or have we lost our sixth sense on our own accord? The modern time dulled our senses.
"I never liked blonde," Anne mutters incoherently. She never liked her hair. How could she when their father never bothered to hide his fondness for its color?
Tristan tried to silence his inner voice. Something told him that behind this wig hid something more complex, something he couldn't understand yet.
He should be glad that Anne smiled again, that she managed to move on from the wrongdoings of their father.
A hidden resentment flashed in Anne's eyes as she thought about her father. Anne composed her expression. A smile rose on her face once again. "Let's watch a horror tonight."
Tristan, caught by surprise, nodded in agreement.
Anne grabbed chips and plopped on the couch. "I'll choose."
Seeing her excitement, Tristan smirked, "I didn't say you couldn't. But nothing too gruesome."
Patting the spot next to her, Anne giggled. "Come on, when was I into gore?"
Tristan sat next to her. "Something tells me you are."
Anne put much thought into choosing a movie that fit her tastes. Before pressing play, she turned to her brother. "Ready?"
The film wasn't interesting, in particular. Tristan yawed and stretched his hands. "Wake me up if something interesting happens," he joked.
On the other hand, Anne fully immersed herself in this poorly written horror.
The main character was a girl who struggled with her morals. Someone who was never properly taught what is wrong and what right. One day, she acted on impulse and killed off her entire family.
Tristan was taken aback by the satisfied smile playing on Anne's lips as the girl stabbed her brother repeatedly in the stomach until it turned into dark mush.
'What if...'
The screen flashes bright red, and the closing credits snapp Anne back to reality.