Introduction; Sakura
Sakura wanted to be a hairdresser, when she was little she would brush her dolls hair till soft and straight and give them little braids and space buns. When she got older she experimented on her own hair, it was trial and error, but, eventually, she started getting compliments "wow, your hair is so pretty, where did you get it done?" And when she told them she did it herself they'd beg her to theirs. She loved it, the girls would all smile brightly at her but give themselves this soft, sweet smile in the mirror. But...life didn't really go as she planned.
Instead of being a hairdresser, styling pretty girls hair into kinky curls or dying the tips of confident girls hair or giving shy and cute girls fringes, she was shaving men's faces. Life was truly unfair.
She was situated on the second floor for work, her clients had to call her beforehand and go up a old steel staircase, her small apartment was the next floor up. The second floor was split between her and the man running the shop downstairs. They talked politely to eachother but they were barely acquaintance. She wasn't even entierly sure what he sold in the shop downstairs, she knew it was some crystal shop but she wasn't sure if that was just a cover up for drugs.
It was getting late and she only had one customer left, tomorrow was the weekend and she couldn't wait, she took Saturdays and Sundays off and usually spent them with her friends or catching up on some show on Netflix. Her life was pretty dull, she had a job she borderline resented, she was twenty four and hasn't had a long term girlfriend yet, she still hasn't come out to her parents and lived in a small, cramped apartment and it didn't look like she'll be getting out soon. She just wished something would happen, spice up her life a little.
Sometimes you should specify when making wishes.
Her last client walked in right on the dot, he was a tall but relatively non descriptive man, his hair and eyes were both brown, his skin was a slight pink from staying in the sun a little too long, his build was a little above average, he had quite a bit of stubble, it was uneven, the sides being longer and fuller than the front. His voice was soft and pleasant when he greeted her and she got to work.
She nearly cut his hand when she dropped the razor.
He had groped her ass, while she was trying to shave his stubble, she immediately stepped back, her grip on the razor loosened and he snatched his hand away before it sliced his hand. He looked annoyed.
She grabbed the razor again. She held it out in warning.
He got up. He was suddenly too tall. Too broad. She took steps backward. She walked into her table. He approached.
She held the razor, she was shaking. He grabbed her wrist. He was so strong.
She dropped it.
She's struggling. He's kissing her neck.
Her hands free, he's grabbing her waist.
Get him away! Oh my god, just get him away!
She pushed.
He hit his head on the side of the table.
Oh god. There's so much blood.
She's on the floor, checking for a pulse, it's so weak.
It's getting weaker.
Oh no.
No nonnononono.
Bandages! Get the bandages and tie it around his head, stop the bleeding.
The bloods on legs, skirt, hands, she just needs to stop more blood from pouring out.
She ties the bandage up.
It's red already.
She checks his pulse.
She starts pumping his chest. Nothing.
Her arms ache, he's still not breathing.
She checks his pulse again.
It's the same.
Nothing.
Oh god.
Oh fucking god.
She's a murderer.
She killed a man.
She needs to leave.
She runs out the room, barely remembering to close the door. She's shaking.
She sprints down the stairs, into the road and-
Oh. They didn't hit her. She stares at them.
They stare back, she sees the man cataloging her appearance. She's terrified.
He gets out his car.
Oh no. Nononnono.
He gives her a handkerchief.
"Your hands are still bloody." He says. She blinks at the handkerchief. He holds it, his hands steady.
She reaches for it slowly. He waits.
She rubs her hands, they are tainted red but it's less noticeable.
"Thank you" her voice is small.
"It's nothing" he says.
"Us criminals gotta stick together after all" he smiles.
"I didn't mean to..." she starts but trails off.
"Despite what everyone says, law can be really black and white. They'll say it's manslaughter, or murder If the other lawyer is good, and you'll be labelled dangerous and a criminal for the rest of your life." He says, his voice isn't cruel though. Just as if he's staying facts. He might just be.
"I'm going to be killed if I stay here for any longer," he says, smiling wryly. He flinches, probably from the bruises on his face. "You wanna get out of here?" He asks.
She can only nod. Criminals have to stick together he said.