Prompt: Secretly cutting someone else's hair.
I looked down at her face. She looked mean, even in her sleep.
I cut off a little piece first. The long, velvety strand of golden hair fell straight to the floor, twisting like a ribbon to land in a graceful half-moon. It made me angry, its grace, its perfection. Even in desecration, her hair fell beautifully.
I had wondered if I could do it - if I could really cut off Ashley's waist-length locks just because she had sent those pictures around school. That falling hair made it real, though, and I could already imagine the sensation of watching her power curl to the floor.
I used the scissors first, cutting and cutting and the hair slipped over the edge of her bed, slid to the floor in a blond puddle. As I came close to her head I could almost imagine that I would see the mark of the devil on her scalp, or some other evil sign - some hint that she was really, truly evil.
The skin was perfectly smooth, unmarred, just like her face. I finished and left, closing the door silently behind me. My stomach ached and I wanted to cry.
I lay down in my own bed, trying to summon the victory I had thought I would feel. But even recalling the half-naked pictures with taunting comments that had been passed around the school by Ashley did not produce anger or triumph.