So this gets another cw for miscarriage and blood

Y’all I’m a mess I shaved my fucking head

What happened?

Great question.

Rook called. I picked up because I want to talk to him, I’ve had a hell of a few weeks, and I miss him, I miss him so much, but the moment I heard his warm, beautiful voice, I panicked and hung up. And then I stood up and felt the *flood* (if you’re cursed with a menstruating womb you know what I mean) and I swear my brain went smooth. I walked into the bathroom, picked up the boys clippers and shaved a strip down the center of my head.

Hahahahahahaahahahahahaha it’s fine everything’s fine.

But see the problem is that I couldn’t shave my head particularly well what with the barely contained agony so finally I got frustrated and threw the thing into the sink, which is what brought Neal to the door.


I didn’t answer him.

“Shi, I’m gonna come in, if that’s something you want to stop now’s the time.”

I didn’t answer him again, and the door cracked open and he tucked himself inside. He took in the scene —dirty bathroom tile, clippers buzzing in the cracked sink, long locks of hair on the floor and the porcelain — and finally edged in behind me, picked the clippers, tipped my head back and gently picked up where I left off.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Liar,” he said, tilting down my head to better reach the back of my neck.

I hesitated. Because I did want to talk about it, I felt like I was going to fucking explode.

“Am I shaving the back or are we leaving a party back here?”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. Mullets rock and everything, but I’d shaved the front to the skin hahaha.

When I opened my mouth I meant to tell him to shave it, but instead I said, “I need to see a doctor.”

I felt his hands pause in my hair, but only for a moment.

“Everything okay?”

So I said the only thing I could, which was, “bleeding.”

I glanced at him in the mirror to see if he understood, but he was focused on my hair. “Do we need to go to the hospital right this second?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Are you sure?”

I shook my head again. What the fuck do I know, I know nothing. I don’t know how this fucking meat prison works, everything that goes on in there is absolutely none of my business.

“Shi I need to you to tell me a little bit more, because as it stands I’m gonna finish this and then we’re going straight to the hospital. What kind of bleeding?”

Our eyes met in the mirror and I watched him get it.

“Oh shit, okay,” he said. “When did that start?”

And that’s when I started crying.

“Hey, okay, tell me more,” he said, reaching for me, totally bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

“Friday,” I said.

“What?” He was blind-sided again. I can only imagine what he thought I was feeling lmfao jesus.

“It started on Friday,” I told him, and watched him start to suspect.

“After —”

“RIGHT after.”

He sat on the edge of the tub, expression totally veiled. “…okay,” he said. “And you think those two things are…” he searched for a word and settled on, “connected?”

“No,” I said turning my back on him but unable to keep myself from watching his expression in the mirror as he processed the magnitude of that lie.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Okay. Can I take you to a doctor right now, or would you rather wait until we get to Hedgewood?”

Maybe I should have gone to the hospital but I just couldn’t bear the thought of sitting under sterile white lights while some dude doctor tries to navigate the fucking elevator scene from The Shining between my legs.

“Okay, we’ll leave right now.”

“What? But — ”

“I know,” he said. “I know, I’m sorry, but we’ve already driven too far in the wrong direction. Julian!” he called into the other room. He cracked the door when he opened it, leaving me hidden.

“What’s wrong?” Julian asked, but Neal only told him to pack and then closed the door.

“But what about Cooper?” I asked. “And Bev?” And the Crossroads, and impending war.

“Doesn’t matter,” Neal said and when he saw I didn’t believe him: “they’ll wait Shiloh.”

I sat on the toilet seat, and asked him the simple question that’s been plaguing me for weeks: “What’s wrong with me?”

And he could have tried to say there’s nothing wrong with me, but he didn’t. He sat on the rim of the bathtub across from me.

“Magic,” he said, absolutely confident. “Same as me and Julian.”

I choked out a laugh. “I thought I’d like magic more.”

“Tell me about it,” Neal answered. He kissed the top of my spiky hair and went to help — and probably explain to — Julian.

When I emerged from the bathroom, our stuff was already back in the rabbit. Julian didn’t say anything to me, but he reached a hand to skim the top of my freshly shaved head and when I looked up at him his eyes crinkled up over his beard.

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