It was a rainy day; yet the curtains were pulled and what little light came through the clouds, peered into her window. She was currently sitting on her bed, legs crossed and hands full with a letter that had yet to be opened. Tess had a feeling she knew what it was. Summer was almost over and from the wax seal it was enough for her to want to avoid it. The vulture holding a holy branch was enough for her to know it was Winthrop family. She hadn't ever received a letter from them except during the summers, when Dominic was away from her and they would constantly write. Her trapped alone in her room while he told her about his escapades all over the world. Sighing, she found herself wondering why she didn't just throw it away. It would do her good, just letting herself have that feeling of being over it. But she wasn't, four months and she was ready for four years to just come and go and take away that pain. Yet if she threw it away, it meant that she would never know what it held.

"Fuck it" she whispered softly and opened the letter.


The fine paper soon was crumpled as she began to shake. A date was really set wasn't it. This wasn't an engagement party, or anything that told her it wasn't set in stone yet. This was stone, this was done for, and despite her constantly promising herself she was over it, she wasn't. Blinking back tears, she ripped the invitation to shreds. She knew he'd done this to hurt her, she knew he'd take sick pleasure in knowing that she was affected by this. Laying down on the bed, she took deep breaths in and out. She was not going to cry, crying meant that she was weak. She was just so angry.

Anger fueled her tears. She had constantly been reiterating to herself like a mantra that it was over that she had let it go, that she'd be okay. That wasn't the case considering she was wounded over this. But it was her stupidity that continued to bring the pain; the never ending hope is what stung more than anything. Hope that seemed crushed at the realization that there was no reason to keep it going.

Her chest stung; it felt as if it was slowly caving in on her. She turned to her side and brought her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees as she tried to keep it together. Her breaths were shaky, as the tears began to fall. Nothing but curses came out of her mouth as she did so. Ashamed of such weakness. She wanted things to be different; she wanted things to be like she wanted them. But she knew it was immature and stupid of her to get everything she asked for.

It would be an hour later when she got up. Slowly, as if her body had been pulverized. She looked at herself in the mirror and noticed just how badly she needed to just move on. She'd lost weight for one thing; she was never truly skinny, but now she could feel some of her bones. The only time she did eat was when Rhian would force feed her if she ever visited. Other times she'd forget and get distracted with shopping or books, or anything that kept her going.

Leaning towards the mirror she noticed her eyes seemed dead, her hair flat and barely thriving. She needed to take care of herself. Taking a deep breath she grabbed her wallet, slipped on her shoes and walked out of the house. She wasn't glamorous in the least when she opened the door of the first salon she saw. She couldn't go to the one that usually treated her; they would never do as she asked. And as she walked in, she hugged the larger sweater around her, and asked for a walk-in.

As she was sat on the salon chair an older woman came and smiled. Tess couldn't help but give her one in return, albeit a small sadder one. The woman immediately washed her hair and tugged the strands carefully, never once trying to be too rough.

"What would you like honey?

"I want it all off" Tess replied immediately.

She could tell the woman was taken aback by it. Her hair had already been down her lower back, a pride of hers, the thing she was most vain about. Slowly the woman ran her fingers through Tess' hair making sure to give her time to take in the response.

"Are you sure? I-it's a lot of hair and clearly you've taken care of it. Why not cut a few inches and-"

"You asked me what I wanted and I told you, can you do it or not?" Tess barked.

Her voice cracked, anger seeped through every word she had emitted. This was not a time for her to back out, it was suppose to be a new start, and how could she if every time she looked in the mirror she looked pathetic.

"How about we take off a few inches and see where we go from there okay?

Tess simmered but nodded. Her eyes never left the mirror as strands began to hit the floor. As the hair reached her shoulders, her bottom lip began to wobble. Slowly her expression changed from impassive to realizing what she was doing. A A few sniffles was what made the old woman stop and look at Tess. Slowly she placed her hands on her shoulders and frowned.

"We can stop now darling, it still looks nice and short"

"Keep going, I-I need it short, I still look like me" she whispered.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"She's pathetic, I want to start new. I need to"

Lowering her head she took steadying breaths, hoping the stylist would continue. But as she didn't Tess found her anger rising once more, "Did I tell you to stop? I am paying to get what I want, now finish my session!"

Immediately the woman nodded and made an excuse of needing other tools. Tess stared straight ahead at the mirror, her hand slowly moving to touch the strand that curled at her shoulder. But as the stylist returned, she gave her a signal to continue. Each snip made her eyes water, as her hair began to fall all the more around her. Her hair no longer tickled her neck, no longer would be held up in a ponytail, and no longer signaled her femininity. Instead the only thing was that the woman left her a bang, in the front, long enough to distinguish her gender.

"Is...is this alright?"

"Perfect" She whispered.

Paying the woman she immediately rushed back to her flat, pretending to ignore the looks that she was being given. It was the longest walk of her life, and as she closed the door behind her, was when she let herself break. Slowly sitting in front of the mirror she let herself cry. It was a quiet sob, not heart wrenching, not gasping for air but silent. There was no sounds coming out but her uneven breathing and the sniffling of her nose. It was stupid to cry over hair, yet she did. Something that defined her, was what people told her they admired disappeared.

Lifting her head slowly she stared at her reflection and sniffled. This woman was not the one that had been heartbroken; she might share the exact same features with the person she saw, but it was a fresh start. Wiping her tears, she played around with it. It was a mistake, a stupid one, but it took some weight from her shoulders.

"Hair grows back" she rasped out.

And just like her, it would grow with her in this new environment. Forcing a smile on her face she really looked at herself. It was a fresh start, and she'd be okay. She was always okay; she was a Holmes.