Chapter 2
The bright, cinematic colors of the backyard felt like a cruel, surreal contrast to the nightmare rapidly unfolding. Grandmother violently forced Grace into the heavy iron patio chair. The elderly woman immediately moved behind the seat, bringing her arms down to forcefully pin the eleven-year-old girl’s shoulders against the metal backrest.
"Let me go!" Grace shrieked, her fair legs kicking out in her polished flats.
"Hold her still, Mother," Sabrina commanded, stepping directly in front of the trapped child. The thirty-nine-year-old woman raised the sharp silver scissors, the blades glinting menacingly in the natural, flawless daylight.
Grace’s bright blue eyes widened in absolute, unadulterated panic as the cold metal of the scissors touched the side of her face. Sabrina grabbed a thick section of Grace’s beautifully braided hair.
"No! Please stop cutting my hair!" Grace sobbed in extreme terror, her voice cracking as the sound of the metal blades snipping together echoed in her ears.
She twisted violently away, thrashing her head to the side. The sudden movement caused the scissors to hack unevenly through the braid. A thick, beautiful lock of fair hair fell, drifting through the bright air and landing softly onto the skirt of her pristine party dress.
"Look what you made me do," Sabrina spat, her American accent sharp with irritation. "You’re ruining the dress."
"Please, Grandma, it hurts! She's pulling it!" Grace wept, her rosy cheeks completely soaked in tears, her chest heaving with panicked, ragged breaths.
"If you would just stop moving like a wild animal, it wouldn't hurt," Grandmother replied coldly, her grip tightening painfully around Grace’s collarbones, pressing her even harder against the rigid iron of the chair.
Sabrina reached out, her jewelry clinking loudly, and forcefully grabbed another section of the girl's ruined side braid. She yanked the hair hard, forcing Grace to look directly at her.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Grace cried, staring directly into Sabrina’s eyes through a veil of heavy tears.
Sabrina looked down at the sobbing child. A dark, twisted smile of jealous contempt spread slowly across her powdered, fair face. She had always hated Grace’s mother, always despised the fact that a working-class woman had dared to marry into their wealthy bloodline.
"Because you need to understand your place in this family," Sabrina whispered, the blades of the scissors opening again. "This hair suits a poor wretch like you."
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"My mom is going to be so mad at you," Grace choked out, squeezing her eyes shut as another loud snip echoed, and more of her hair tumbled down onto her lap.
"Your mother," Sabrina laughed cruelly, "is nothing but a glorified maid in medical scrubs. She has no power here. You belong to us today."
