Day 429

It's so easy to fall asleep at the hairdressers.
Something about the rhythmic snick of their scissors, the feel of fingers scraping your scalp.
Relaxing in a way you can never fully explain.

They lather your hair with unnamed gels, soaps and semi-congealed liquids.
Always smells so familiar, that overpowering floral scent tinged with iron and salt.
Cecilia always did your hair, lulled you near to sleep the second your head touched the sink.

You barely ever remember what she does to your hair, though she tells you the product names.
It's the same for almost everyone around these parts.
The end result is always what you wanted but the actual haircutting is vague and hazy.

It's like you imagined going, something between a dream and looking through a glass bottle.
The only people who seem to know what goes on are the security team.
Every shop has cameras and they all link to one large security building for some reason.

My cousin says it's more convenient that way, all the eyes in one place.
I suppose they're there to catch shoplifters or robberies but nothing like that happens here.
Maybe it does and they don't tell us, the security team are strange looking.

Their eyes are always to glassy and vacant but the rest of their body language says IN CHARGE.
My brother did an internship with them a few months back, lasted two days.
He hasn't spoken since day two when he said that everything was wrong and we were monsters.

I remember it so well, I'd just come back from my bi-monthly haircut when he barged past me.
He was determined to get me and our younger sister out of town "before we were next".
I still don't know what he meant by that, despite his ranting.

I tried to make him calm down but when I turned him to face me he shrieked and scrambled back.
Kept pointing to my newly cut hair and saying it was soaked in blood.
My hair was dark red yes but it was just dye, he also claimed my free flower crown was guts.

He'd seen the camera footage from the whole town and said we were all blinded to it.
All except the people in charge who "were running this damn slaughter house".
Then he listed twenty or so names claiming we knew them all but I'd never heard of them before.

He even said that we were related to a few, that we had an older sister named Cherole!
She'd been a hairdresser until she snapped apparently and she'd also killed eight people.
Used their blood to condition, "an old town tradition" he kept saying.

Before I could hear anything more from him our dad came rushing in to drag him out.
Said he'd had a nasty bump on the head was confused, he'd take him to hospital and be home soon.
Four days later he came back with thick bandages around his head and mute.

There had been complications but nobody would tell me what.
Nothing else has changed since except I applied for his internship last month.
Got the callback today and I'm in - I can hardly wait to see the cameras.