I envied her, every glorious red strand and every dark colored inch of flesh. My pale skin, the opposite contrast against my black curls, disgusted me. A tan and dye later, I entered my apartment with hair curl free. We could almost pass as sister. I giggled at the thought and smiled innocently when she walked out of her room and saw me for the first time, really saw me. Her friendly smile all rosy red and fake faded. The side of her lips twitched for a second before her face turned a blank mask.

She left. I followed her. She entered a hotel with a man. His broad form radiated pure fitness and his smoldering eyes drove a new jealousy deep into my heart. I moved closer. They checked into a room and got lost behind its four walls. I waited. I started to lose the sensation in my legs and headed for the bathrooms.

I pushed the door and held my breath as my roommate stared back at me. She had her purse open on the counter, a stack of money peeking out. She grabbed her purse and entered a stall. I did the same. She took longer. I washed my face and was about to leave when another woman entered. Her face contorted with disgust. I felt a pang of pain on my side. I looked at her with a confused and hurtful expression and then down at the knife jammed into my stomach.

She pulled the knife out, her pale fingers red with my blood. “Whore,” The woman spat, her voice thick with venom and malice.

I fell to the floor. She left, her black heels clicking against the marbled floor. My eyes lost focus as a red blur stepped out of the stall, a scream in tow. I cursed my luck. I cursed how the tan lady had gotten the hue right and how the hair salon had found the last bottle of burgundy red

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