“Put down the scissors, now!” Nika calls out, after having burst into the downstairs washroom of your house.

But it was too late.

Snip.

You and Nika stare blankly at each other for a good few moments. Her eyes dart between your face, the pair of hot-pink scissors in your right hand that were used to cut off the chunk of your hair in the other.

The Croatian blinks once, then twice, and then a third time, before she finally breaks the silence between you two.

“Now why did you do that?” grumbles the brunette, placing her hands on her hips while giving you a firm, scolding-like look.

That’s a good question you have a reasonable answer for. Because you wanted to show everyone that you weren’t some happy go lucky girl that everyone says you were.

A stupid way to prove a point (which it didn’t), but there’s no going back. You cut yourself really uneven bangs that might be unfixable. Idiot.