Derek taped the picture to the inside of his locker door.  He touched the cheek of the woman in the picture longingly, and then slammed the door shut before anyone could see.  The hall was deserted, but that did not mean someone wasn’t watching.  Derek had learned over the years that there is almost always someone watching.  He flung his backpack onto his shoulder and left the school grounds.

He decided to take the short cut home; double-checking that no one was following him as he turned every corner.  He approached the window of a small, ranch-style house and he stooped down below the sill so no one could see him.  He raised his eyes just above the windowsill and peered inside the house.  No one was around.

“Good,” he said to himself.

Derek quietly opened the door and just as carefully, shut it behind him.  He tiptoed down the hallway and into the master bedroom.  Quickly, he looked around the room for the object of his desire, a small tube of red lipstick.  He found it next to the vanity mirror and dropped it into his pocket.  He exited the room and quietly left the house.

As Derek shut the door, he heard a woman shout, “Someone has taken my lipstick!”

“I’m sure you’ve just misplaced it,” responded a man.

“No, I’m positive I had it here.  I just put it on no more than five minutes ago,” the woman complained.  “This isn’t the first time.  Someone keeps coming into our room!  I’m sure of it!”

Derek bolted across the lawn and into his own yard and a grin crossed his face as he realized he was very nearly caught.  He slowed to a walk as he got near the shed in his yard.   As he opened the door, a spade fell on his foot.  He propped it back up and turned on the light.

“Hello, my darling.  I brought you a lipstick so you can be beautiful,” he said to the corpse sitting in the lawn chair.  Shadows covered her face, but he could see her lips looked blue.  He took the lipstick and colored in the corpse’s lips.  He looked at her body with longing and saw a tear in the dress she was wearing.  A frown crossed his face.  “I’ll be right back.”

Derek dashed across the yard and back into his neighbor’s house.  He snuck into the master bedroom once again and opened the closet.  He pulled out a long, sleek, black gown and held it against himself in the mirror.  Just then, he heard voices coming his way and his heart began to pound.  He glanced around the room for his escape route and his eyes landed on the window.  He ran to it and lifted it open.

He just got his body outside of the window when the window came crashing down on his neck like a guillotine.  He screamed out in pain and surprise and the owners of the voices came running into the room, shouting.

“Oh, my God!  It’s Derek!  Call the police!”

It’s a pain, is it not?
To get your hair caught on your brush
Tangle after tangle
Snag after snag
The agonizing screams echo in your head
Toughen up, you say
Toughen up
It’s only hair

A glance at the brush brings disgust to your face
Broken, split, inseparable hair
Clinging together
I don’t want to leave you!
One strand screams.
We’ll see each other again in the after life
Calls the other.
Don’t leave me!
I’ll never leave you…

Sobs echo louder than the ripping and tearing of the brush
Anger crosses your face and your strokes quicken
End this pain
Right now
Brisk strokes on the ends
Your face is scrunched up determinedly
You ignore the screams
You ignore the pain, the ripping the tearing
Ignorance is bliss, is it not?

The final stroke of the brush
And you tear the carnage from the bristles
And dump it in the trash

Gazing back into the mirror…
Into your deep brown eyes
Those evil, evil brown eyes
Your soft hands reach for your sore scalp
Pink with tenderness
Fresh and ready to start anew