Bleed Marks Hair Novels & Stories

I grab a piece of bread, but before I can take a bite, Priscilla’s gaze sharpens, fixating on my hair. “Hold still,” she murmurs, stepping closer. Before I can react, she gently plucks a strand from my head and holds it up. “What?” I ask, confused. She twirls the strand between her fingers, her brows furrowing. “You’ve got a white streak coming in.” I freeze. “What?” She holds it out for me to see. It’s unmistakable—a stark silver strand mixed among my blonde locks. "There's more...it's concentrated in the areas above your left ear."

It's in the ground and the water comes from an underground spring so it's a milky blue color and feels smooth as silk. I use a fluffy towel to dry my skin and move to stand in front of the mirror. I pull my hair to the side so I can look at the mark. It's no longer bloody and is already starting to heal. My gaze wanders down and I shake my head a little at the red-purple splotches scattered across my chest and down my stomach. "Okay next time we make out, I'm giving you a dozen of these," I say, pulling on my nightgown and walking into the room.

I blinked. “A scent?” “Yes.” “That’s ridiculous.” “Perhaps.” “But people believe it.” I frowned. “What kind of scent?” Lyra’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Marked.” The word made my stomach tighten. “Marked how?” “Like someone has already claimed you.” My eyes stayed fixed on her. “That doesn’t make any sense.” No, she said without rushing. That wasn’t how it worked

He sat and she got back to work getting the splinter out of his skull. Then she went into the bathroom and used the box of color on her blond hair. She’d had her hair many colors in the past, all variations of blond. This had been the lightest she’d gone and to be honest, it had been nothing but a pain since she’d bleached it. She’d thought it would make her look better on camera, but it had only ended up washing out her skin tone. Plus, the upkeep was more than she wanted, not to mention how impossible it was to make it look shiny for the cameras. She had multiple bottles of oils she had to use just to keep her ends from breaking.

I clear my throat, "Just let me wash your hair again, to make sure there's nothing in there." He shudders, but nods and allows me to walk closer again so I can lather his hair and massage it, trying to get everything out of there. The blood totally has stained his bleached hair. It was almost white this morning, but it's red right now. Not pink, but blood red. It's probably going to trigger him later, so I wash and wash for as long as I can, until Eros is making a purring sound and grabbing my waist like he's going to fall if he doesn't.

Stormie- Six hours and many dyes later, the color couldn’t be concealed. They have tried to bleach my hair to the point that it should be fried by now, but nothing worked. I was as baffled as them about my hair, but aside from shaving my head, nothing could be done.

They were enough to make any girl jealous. I couldn't help but wonder if it was real or bleached. I treasured my raven-colored hair and had never bleached it before but at the moment I couldn't help but consider the thought of having my hair bleached, I mean what could be the harm in giving it a try? Seeing it properly now, the man's hair had to be bleached, yes! there's no way a person's hair could look like golden flames but now the question is where did he get the products from?

I touch it and on looking at my hand, I find that I'm bleeding. I look in horror at the blood on my fingers, and quickly get up to go check the cause of the bleeding in the mirror. As my eyes meet my image in the mirror, a loud scream exits my throat. My hair! My hair has turned white. Full of shock, I run my bloody fingers under the tap, using some of the water to wipe my hair, in hopes that the change of color is just a figment of my imagination. Nothing changes, but I continue to rub on my hair frantically, not realizing when I start yanking on it.

I sink in with a soft groan, letting my sore muscles relax. After a good soak and scrub, I quickly dry off and work a brush through my wet hair. My hair is… wild—a massive wavy multi-color mess. Red, blonde, brown, black, even golden strains blended to cascade down to the middle of my back and 100% my natural hair. It reminds me of the autumn season when the leaves change from their summer brilliance to their cozy fall colors. I run my fingers through them with some hair product and let it dry naturally.

I knew if I didn’t try to relax, I’d stutter and get frustrated. “I got up, everything was normal and all of a sudden, my hair was chopped in half. I’m sure you’ve seen something like this before,” Her eyes scanned my hair for a few seconds. “It’s a clean chop, like it was done by a scissors,” “Exactly!” “I think it was the shampoo,” “Shampoo? Why would my shampoo cut my hair? Even if it did, it wouldn’t chop the hair in half, it would chop off the hair unevenly, down to its roots,”