Novelas y relatos de Bleached Dreads

“Powdered bleach. Gotta lighten your hair first so the pink sticks better. Otherwise, you’ll just end up with a muddy mess.” I blinked at him, still highly skeptical. “Bleach? As in, the stuff that could potentially melt my hair off my head?” “Exactly that,” he said cheerfully, dipping the brush into the bowl before flicking his gaze back to mine. “That’s why I’m doing it and not letting you fuck it up. Used wrong, this stuff can do a lot worse than just melt your hair—it can cause chemical burns, turn your scalp into a horror show. You might even go bald.”

Like him. Fresh tears blur my vision. Why is it so difficult? Why does everything seem so hard? I hate this. “I don't want this anymore. I don't want him anymore.” Tears spill down my cheeks. Eventually, I let it be. I give up. Someday, it will come off. Forty minutes later, I rinse away the dye. Blonde hair stares back at me—dull, pale, and different. Exactly what I need. I hardly recognize myself, and neither will anyone else.

My rebirth. My hair was chopped to a sleek, shoulder-brushing cut dyed the color of ashes mixed with silver. Elizabeth styled it with a precision only years of high-end training could produce. The sharpness of the cut and the tint reshaped my entire face. She used contouring to lift my cheekbones, make my jaw slimmer, hide the softness pregnancy had left behind. Then, she bleached my brows and darkened them again into an unfamiliar arch that made my eyes icy, predatory, mysterious. “I don’t believe this,” I whispered, my voice cracking slightly.

JAYCE BECKETT The smell of bleach clung faintly to the bathroom even though I had cracked the window open. A towel was spread over Chocolate's shoulders, clips holding messy sections of her dark hair in place while streaks of dye worked their way through. My hands were stained with little smudges of chestnut brown, proof I had no damn clue what I was doing but was determined to at least pretend I did. I meant, this was my first time dealing with hair bleach. Even when Emily was young and still around, she never asked for a hair dye, so I had no idea what the fuck I was doing to Chocolate's hair.

If they wanted me in a lingerie, they could have simply said so. I opened the drawers to find a hairdryer, then blew my hair dry before bundling my locs into a bun on top of my head. The mate-mark on my neck stood proud and loud on my pale skin. A red lipstick and I looked like I was a model. Even Blaire didn’t hold a candle. The door burst open, and Blaire once again pranced in. This time, dressed in a black body con dress that bared her legs. The girl knew her legs were a killer.

Well, Asher carried her to the chair, but I didn’t expect any less from Asher these days. Kate very carefully started to brush Leia’s hair. “So what the fuck is going on?” Leia said. Asher grabbed her hand, “they’re going to make you look like you again.” Kate laughed. She had such gorgeous laugh, “Dani said this couldn’t really fail. But if it does, I’ll pay for the hairdresser.” Leia seemed surprised, but she let Kate go ahead with combing her hair out. Then Kate grabbed the hair dye. “So we have to remove this color first, but Dani said because you used to dye your hair blond, it won’t be necessary to bleach it again.”

"Did you ever have white hair with long braids?" Nix nodded. "Yes. A very long time ago." She shuddered as the hair on her head went from a nice, boring brown to the bleached white tones of both Scarlet and Atlas. Long skinny braids ran from her temples up into a high knot at the top of her head. A thicker braid rose up from the middle of her forehead and joined the top knot. Scarlet's eyes widened as her hand dropped away. "I've dreamt of you. You were there in my mind every time someone r - hurt me. You kept me safe. Kept me sane."

Misha was stuck getting her hand out in the washing machine. She bleached her hair in midnight green color, although it might fade for a lighter color over time, she's satisfied with what it turns out like how she's satisfied how everything turned out in her life. Because she'll paint it on a different color before it fades. She knew Blanche or Cleo Martinez as she was, ever since she was little, she always looked up at her. Although they may be the same age, Misha was a lot smaller compared to all the agents they trained in the organization.

A surprising gracious king I woke up wrapped in Dregs arms. I grinned and snuggled further onto his embrace. For being a cold blooded creature he felt warm and I melted against his firm physic. "Get up and sit in the chair in the other room so I can get started on all your hair," Dregs chuckled softly. I stretched as I sat and got up to head to the chair. I ran my fingers through my long hair and turned to see Dregs approaching with a spray bottle, rattail comb, beads and a rubber band gun. After six hours my hair looked like Dregs. It fell down my back with hundreds of tiny braids ending in colorful beads. Dregs lifted my chin and gazed down at me grinning.

The scream that left my lips was bloodcurdling. I stare at my reflection in horror and almost have the urge to cry. My hair is no longer a fair shade of strawberry blonde but a creamy chocolate brown, my natural hair colour. Oh, shit, shit, shit! I grabbed my bottle of shampoo and dumped its contents into the sink; it wasn’t shampoo. It was bleach. Fuck! How did bleach get in here? Someone must have poured bleach into this bottle, and Kiara was the only one in the room. My blood boiled in such a way that I was certain my skin was turning a bright shade of red. I storm out of the bathroom, but I am met by no one in our room.