“Do you, Nina? Because I feel like if you did understand it, you wouldn’t walk around like a slob, with your dark roots showing.” “I… I’m sorry for that.” “Because you couldn’t take care of your hair, now you will give it to me.” I have a horrible, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “What?” “Not all of it.” He chuckles, because of course that would be ridiculous. “I want a hundred strands.” “You… you want a hundred strands of my hair?” “That’s right.” He taps on the door. “Give me one hundred strands of your hair, and I’ll let you out of the room.”
