Bringing this traumatic experience back bc why not.
(I thought this was published this whole time and I honestly don't know why it got unpublished-)
Anyways I just did an assignment basically rewriting what happened, also because why not... So yeah here it is I guess-

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Purple hair.

Purple hair, you say?!

Just a strip, just a test. Easy to cut out if you don't like it after all. School lets you colour your hair now, you're a big girl.

A strip, pah. Unacceptable. What are you thinking?

Your hair is still blonde, it's nothing more than a desire for harmless experimentation.

Your school will kick you out, you'll never get a job! This is PERMANENT. It will follow you forever!
Yelling yelling.

A bit of purple hair you can cut off?

You need to be normal. I'll talk some sense into you!
Screaming screaming.

Purple hair shouldn't be a problem, right? Finish eating, walk away quickly, try not to argue. It'll only make it worse.

Yelling yelling, screaming screaming.
Following you to your cave.

You're crying now, screaming now. Because all you want is a chance to show off your favourite colour.
Dad is yelling, a hurried text to Mum reads before you can even blurt something to your ever-comforting friends. Good choice.

No more laptop. No more fun. No more purple. No more none.

The yelling subsides, the comfort is gone. No friends, no writing, no art, no none.

What have you put in her head? Yelling yelling, screaming screaming. Unacceptable. Always running away to watch videos.

The cave is no longer safe. Plunge deeper, hide further, tuck into clothing folds and dark spaces.
Where is your friend? He's gone now, like you wanted!
Didn't you tell him to go dormant? Oh, you need him now. Well too bad, he obliged, he's dead. All that's left is a ghost, trying to comfort but unable to stay for long.

Yelling yelling, screaming screaming.
Where did you go. Come out.

Don't open the door, don't open the door. Leave me alone. You don't love me.

Talking slowly, lying, scheming.
Of course I love you, of course I do.
I made you, I know you.
I named you.

Light feels too bright, light feels too loud.

Call me Kiki, that's not my name.
I made me, I know me.
I named me.

I named you.
That's not your name.
Yelling yelling, screaming screaming.
Don't fight back.

Close the door once more. This cave is not safe. This cave is not home. Nowhere deeper to go, nowhere deeper to hide.
Yelling yelling, screaming screaming, further outside it hunts and prowls for another victim.
You're not like him.
You named yourself.
Fight back.
Escape.
Fly.

Yelling yelling, screaming screaming.
Mine mine mine.

A second pair of socks over the first, thick and tip-toe-ing over the carpet.
Don't get caught.
Take the screen.
Set it slowly.
Clamber up.
Sit on the sill.
Prepare yourself to fly, leave the rocky nest, wings unfurling.

Talking talking. Hunting hunting.
Mine mine mine.

Fear is normal. Fear is human. Fear is primal.
Free yourself.
Turn and slip down.
The ledge is small.
Shaking shaking. Cold cold.

A single toe from each foot perches the girl who wishes she were a bird.
Fly away, fly away, but your wings were never there to catch you.
Look down, far and dark and treacherous.

Drop.

Silence. Distance.

Twist. Snap. Howl.
Covered by nothing but the stars. Be quiet or you'll be heard.
Shiver shiver. Snarl snarl.
Crawl away, pick yourself up.
Run.

Silent. Distant. Unknowing.

Run run run, on your broken talons, on your mangled paws.
You're free, nothing but two pairs of socks and the world before you.
Crying, alone and free.
The sky is yours, the stars and moon are yours- For just one moment.
Run run run, if that's not home, then what is?
What will you do?
Where will you go?
All alone?
All grown up?
Will you freeze without your blankets?

Run run run.
Limp limp limp.
Sirens sound, run faster, run farther. Don't go back.
Find yourself at a familiar driveway.
Maybe you were always coming here.
All grown up, choosing your family, choosing your house.
What are you doing here? You're asked.
Out of breath, you can't answer.
You're safe.
Cry now.
On the floor of the entryway with the pain catching up to you. Safe, in a bigger and more loving cage.

Still on the phone, your Mum defends you as she always has and always will. You're all grown up now, but you still feel just like a kid.

He didn't know you were even gone.

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Anyway, not the most proud of this but I figured I might as well keep it with what I wrote right after it happened.