She poured a capful of sulfuric gel onto a lock of her own hair she’d cut from her brush. It hissed, smoked, and curled into a black question mark before collapsing into a brown liquid. Angry , she thought. Too angry.
She sat on the cool tile floor. Her own hair—a blonde so pale it was nearly white—fell over her shoulders. She picked up a strand that had shed on her sweatshirt. Held it between two fingers. what will dissolve hair
She poured the white pellets down the dark throat of the drain, then the cold water. A faint, acrid sweetness rose—like ammonia and burnt marshmallows. Then, a soft, volcanic hiss. The chemical reaction was hungry. It was eating the past. She poured a capful of sulfuric gel onto