She had no mother, and no women who took an interest in her upbringing; she got all of her information from books, magazines. Thus, she had been informed that she must brush her hair one hundred strokes before bedtime, every day.
She sat at her vanity and began. At twelve, she was finally growing into the vanity, the furniture... it had been far too mature for her before now, heavy and dark. She thought that it may have been her mother's, but she'd never asked.
Stroke, stroke, flyaway bits glinting gold.
The vanity would likely last forever. She took very good care of her things, was quiet and methodical. She'd grown up too fast, Olivia had once said. But her father thought she was perfect. She smiled, smug.
She finished and quickly braided her hair back for bed; turned out the lights, slipped under the covers... and begged silently, Please don't let me have the nightmare tonight...
Current total: still $1,106.
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Yeah, this sucks. I'm okay with that. I just totally stalled on this one, prolly because I've written three straight without getting up and walking around. I'm going to get up and walk around now.
And regarding quality - these are ten-minute freewrites, so they're gonna be pretty uneven!
Also. My meds make me perpetually tired. So. I really hope yendi can stay up late with me. He's not back in ATL yet, so this leaves me without much a diversion, which is a Problem. 5 hours til I get him back,...