Reflection

Azalea studied her reflection in the mirror. 

Her second-year back at OCIM, the only place she'd ever felt private. Silence, briefly. And then classes would begin, and the schedule her parents had constructed for her would begin. Never truly free, but sometimes during the late hours after curfew, she would be able to catch her breath.

Sometimes she thought about running away and not looking back. Making a huge change that would influence her life forever. But then she would see something like a framed photograph or her witch's hat and knew she would never let herself do that. 

Because for once in her boring, middle-child life, she had a purpose. People noticed her. She'd come from a nobody family as somebody. As someone who had an interesting and unexpected familiarity. It was enough for people to start calling her the prodigy of the Gardner bloodline, and that was enough for her.

Well, it had been. But she hadn't chosen to be different--even if she enjoyed the attention it got her. She hadn't made the decision to be someone instead of no one. It'd been chosen for her, by whoever was waiting at the end of the line.

Azalea wanted to choose something. She wanted to be in charge of herself for once. She wanted to make a change that would be huge to her, but not impact anything. So she dug through her backpack and withdrew a pair of scissors.

Just a few inches, nothing huge. No one would notice it but her. That would be enough.

Hair cascaded to her bare feet, little pieces of blonde. She paused, satisfied. Her hair had once fallen halfway down her back, but now it rested just past her shoulders. Just inches, but miles for her. Miles was in the direction of freedom that no one else could control.