Isabella

Paula was being unnecessarily ruthless with my hair. Normally, she would have slathered on some conditioner and begun to comb my hair gently. Instead, she kept yanking on the curls with her brush, almost pulling out my brain in the process.

"Did something happen?" I questioned her as she yanked on a strand.

She seemed extremely guarded. "Well, whatever it is, can you please, please, and please stop pulling out my brain!" I yelled the last part as she yanked on my hair again.

She suddenly stopped and looked at me with wide eyes. "Michael," she said suddenly.

"What about Michael? He's not giving me anything to work with....