Rosie's POV

He always wins and I'm left with no choice but to come along.

The scent of the shampoo and styling products perfumed the bustling hair salon.

I sat cocooned in a swivel chair, my head tilted back in surrender as a skilled stylist wove her magic on my dark.

The mirror reflects my image along with the people passing by.

There's a gentle hum of conversation and the whirl of a blow-dryer on my hair brings to mind a busy bee.

I'm more tense than ever with creepy eyes on me, some whispers ...