"Just do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, just go for it," Wednesday replied, wholly unsure.

"Okay. Three, two, one..."

Wednesday's eyes were closed and hidden behind her hands, unable to see what was happening. But her ears were working perfectly fine and her body tensed as she heard the long snip of scissors on hair.

Her hair.

"Right, that's the first bit of hair gone," the hair stylist behind her said.

Wednesday chanced opening her eyes and peeking through her fingers to look in the mirror opposite, seeing the blonde-haired woman's reflection as she smiled down at her handiwork, picking another piece of hair as she started snipping again.

"How does it look?" she asked nervously.

The stylist released a chuckle. "Well considering I've only cut two sections of hair off so far, and that's before cutting it into an actual style, right now I'd say it looks pretty shit."

Wednesday groaned, wanting to sink into the chair at the obvious mistake she'd made in deciding to get such a drastic cut, but the hairdresser laughed again, enjoying her misery.

"But you're lucky that I'm such an excellent hair stylist because by the end of our session, you're going to be walking away with the best trim in all of central London."

"Really?" Wednesday grimaced nervously in the mirror, looking at her long dark tresses that she'd grown to an impressive length over the years.

"Really. You're in my chair. Take a breath, relax. It's all going to be alright."

Wednesday nodded anxiously, sitting up and trying to rid her body of the rigidity.

A couple of hours passed in the salon as she watched her hair get chopped shorter and shorter, before being taken for a deep shampoo and condition during which she'd struggled to stay awake because the massage itself was so nice. And then she'd watched as she trimmed even more hair, cutting in the final shape, before applying some bleach and wrapping her ends in foil, eventually adding toner. Eventually, after what felt like half a day, Wednesday's hair was done, and she was ready to turn around and see her reflection.

"Okay, feel free to turn and look at your new hair," the stylist grinned down at her, clearly proud of her work.

Wednesday chewed on her lip as she breathed out slowly through her nose, before turning herself on the chair.

Instantly upon seeing her reflection, her lips parted in shock. Shock at how short it was. Shock at the caramel highlights running through her dark chocolate hair. Shock at how much she actually liked it. And as she leant forward for a closer look, she felt something that was almost foreign to her. Something that wasn't often felt. Happiness with her own appearance. In fact, she'd have gone as far to say that she felt pretty.

She'd opted for a long choppy bob that stopped just above her shoulders, with golden highlights blending seamlessly into her hair and lifting her complexion. The stylist had styled her hair into loose waves to give it some volume, a far cry from the usual straight style she wore on a daily basis.

"I don't..." she mumbled, touching the ends of her new hair in wonder, noticing how well this new style framed her face. "I don't know what to say."

"I can't tell if that's a good I-don't-know-what-to-say or a bad I-don't-know-what-to-say?" the stylist replied, smiling confusedly as she waited for any indication of whether she liked it or not.

Wednesday tilted her head, trying to see it from ever new angle. Finally, she let a smile grow on her lips.

"I love it."

The stylist smiled in surprise. "Really? You're happy with it?"

"Yes! It really does suit me," she said, relief washing over her.

The majority of her trips to the hair salon ended with her running out with glossy eyes and a hat pulled over her head anytime she tried anything other than a trim. But this time, she couldn't find a single fault with her new hair style—it suited who she was now as a person. Grown, and yet, still growing.

"Thank you so much," she grinned as she stood up from the chair.

"It's my pleasure," the stylist replied, glad to see the genuine happiness in her eyes.

As she left the salon, her now drastically shorter hair gently swaying with the breeze of the outdoors, Wednesday pulled her phone from her pocket. Opening up her gratitude app, she began to type in the things she was grateful for that day with a small smile. She wrote new hair, and then London, before pausing for something else. After a few steps and a deep dig into her mind, she typed the last thing.

Being fearless.

With a contented grin, she set off home.

The next day, she walked into Sade's room with a nervous air, wondering what her reaction would be to her new hair. She'd sent a photo of it to Zara and her mum, which had been met with positive praise, but until then, no-one had actually seen it in the flesh yet.

Sade looked at her eyes first as she took a seat, before looking up to her hair as a surprised smile crossed her lips.

"New hair?" she asked.

"Yeah," Wednesday said, touching her tresses with a shy smile. "What do you think?"

Sade nodded, trying to keep her face neutral but Wednesday could see the shimmer of appreciation in her eyes. "I think it looks great. Suits you as a person more."

Wednesday wondered if there was some deeper meaning to that. She hadn't said it suited her face shape or suited her bone structure. She'd said it suited her as a person. For as long as she could remember she'd kept the same hair style, hiding behind it as her security blanket. Maybe both her and Sade knew that this wasn't just her shedding hair; it was her shedding something much more important.

"How have things been? How was your break back at home?" Sade asked, opening her notebook.

"It was good," Wednesday replied, nodding. "It was what I needed. I didn't realise how much until I was there."

"Sometimes leaving our immediate environments can provide us with better clarity, better perspective," Sade agreed, looking over to her. "What did you do whilst there?"

Wednesday sat into the sofa, crossing her legs. "Walked pongo—our dog—a lot. Ate enough food to feed the 500. Had some nice conversations with mum...and dad."

Sade caught onto that last sentence, smiling knowingly as her brows raised.

"What did you talk to them about?"

Looking down to her interlocked hands, Wednesday cleared her throat.

"I finally told mum about the reasons I come to therapy, how that links into why me and Harry decided to end things. And with Dad, I talked about my worries...uncertainties over the future. He's always been a good listener." She looked up, spotting Sade's gaze. "I know it probably sounds weird to hear me saying I had a full conversation with my dad's gravestone."

"Not at all," Sade said, an earnest expression on her face. "Just because someone is physically no longer here, doesn't mean they don't exist in our hearts anymore. Death doesn't mean non-existence."

A flush of gratitude spread throughout her at Sade's words, not realising how much she needed to hear that positive affirmation.

"Yeah," she said, biting her inner cheek. "I also told them that...that I love him. Harry."

"Love?" Sade repeated, tilting her head as if to check she'd heard right.

Wednesday furrowed her brows, nodding slowly. "Yeah, love. I—you knew that didn't you?"

Sade widened her eyes and shook her head.

"We've discussed your feelings for him, but you've never actually defined how deep those feelings go. You've especially never said the word love before because I would have definitely remembered."

"Oh," was all Wednesday could reply. She sank into the chair nervously, feeling her cheeks redden. "Well yeah, I guess you know now."

"When did you come to that realisation Wednesday? And did you come to it alone?"

"I think it was a few weeks after we became a thing. And, uh...yeah. I just realised one day that those feelings I'd felt for him had always been love. It was just one mundane moment where I actually realised it."

Sade nodded with an expression Wednesday couldn't unravel. She watched as she jotted something down in her notepad, always anxious every time it happened. Because it either meant that there was a breakthrough or a regression in her progress. What's worse, she never knew which one it was.

"Before things ended, did you tell Harry that you were in love with him?" she asked.

Wednesday sat forward, viscerally remembering the feeling of the words getting lodged in her throat when she'd tried.

"No. I was going to but...I just couldn't, not at that time." She sighed, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I know that probably seems like I was running away from my feelings. Again."

Sade pursed her lips. "I don't think that at all actually."

Wednesday looked up, confusion forcing her brows together.

"You don't?"

"No," Sade said. "I think the fact that you acknowledged and accepted your feelings, and also tried to tell him is what matters here. Don't focus on the fact you didn't manage to tell him; focus on the fact that you tried. You didn't keep it buried and bottled up inside of you. When—if—there is a right time to tell him, I'm sure you'll be able to."

Wednesday smiled down at her interlocked hands, trying not to let the sadness of that statement impact her too much. Would there ever be a right time now? It seemed cruel, to be the reason they ended and then start dangling some type of false hope in front of him by admitting she loved him.

"Anyway," Sade said when Wednesday's silence said more than enough. "Let's move on from Harry. Today, I wanted to talk about your relationship with social media, especially in light of what's recently occurred."

"Oh. Okay," Wednesday said, smoothing her hands down her thighs, readying herself for the topic she knew would be mentally heavy.

"Firstly, I just wanted to gain an insight into what your current stance is with it. Are you still avoiding using social media?"

"Yeah, I...yeah, I am. There was a day that I redownloaded everything and tried to look with a more open mind, like you said. See the good as well as the bad. But that...well, it wasn't a good idea."

"Did it not go to plan?" Sade asked.

Wednesday laughed bitterly at the thought of the moment she'd seen the article about her and Patrick popping up. How betrayed and violated she'd felt.

"Not exactly. It ended with me seeing a particularly brutal article about myself and subsequently chucking my phone across the room in a fit of rage. And also cutting up a teddy bear until it was a pile of fluff on the floor."

Sade's eyebrows immediately rose, her entire demeanour stiffening in surprise.

"A teddy bear?"

Wednesday forced an awkward smile. "It was the one my ex got me. I promise I'm fine, it was just a bit of an angry moment."

"Right, okay," Sade said, clearing her throat like she didn't fully believe Wednesday, but wanted to keep the conversation flowing regardless. "So, using social media that day still triggered your belief, yes?"

"Yeah," she replied quietly, hating how that admittance felt on her tongue.

"Okay. So where are you at now regarding it? Have you thought any further about a solution for your issues with using it?"

Her plan that she'd made the week before at home sprung to mind. She'd suggested deleting her entire social media in response to the problem, cutting it out of her life completely—though, she wasn't too convinced on that solution just yet.

"I...I did think about deleting all of my social media completely, so that I don't have to deal with it at all," she said, her tone unsure as her brows furrowed.

Sade picked up on the shift in her certainty with that statement, narrowing her eyes at her.

"That doesn't sound like something you want to do," she observed.

"Because it isn't," Wednesday replied, breathing out frustratedly. "It feels like giving in, giving them what they want. I'm the one receiving the scrutiny and yet I'm the one who needs to withdraw myself? That doesn't seem fair."

"But what is the alternative Wednesday? Using it with the constant fear of it having a negative impact on your self-image and self-worth?"

"At least I'm the one with the power though. If I choose to use it, that's my choice. Even if it is bad, at least I'm the one in control of how I use it."

"Is that really you having the power though? Submitting yourself to possible scrutiny, voluntarily taking the risk that it could end with you feeling worse for using it? That doesn't sound like power," Sade said matter-of-factly.

"Withdrawing further into myself hardly sounds powerful either," she muttered, playing with the hem of her top.

Sade shifted on her seat, grasping her hands together.

"Is your relationship with social media so important to you that it's worth risking your mental health over?" she asked.

Wednesday sighed. "It's not even about social media itself really. Day to day, I don't actually use it that often. It's just..."

A pause filled the air as her eyes skirted between two points on the floor, her brows pulled together.

"It's just what?" Sade asked.

Looking up, Wednesday shrugged. "I gave up the one thing I wanted more than anything in the world for my own wellbeing, and it sucks. And now, after all that sacrifice, I need to sacrifice more? How is that fair? What do I get to keep for me?" she asked, angry desperation lacing her words. "It's not about social media itself, truthfully I couldn't give a toss. It's about having to give up so much because of the control other people have on my ability to love myself."

She crossed her arms, sinking further into the sofa with an angry expression. Her stubbornness was shining through, creating a vortex of angry energy that was bubbling up beneath her. Anger at the anonymous trolls, anger at the media, anger at her own inability to mediate her core belief when the time came for it. It felt like a lose-lose situation whatever she decided.

"Okay," Sade said, considering her frustration. "Then what if you don't see that solution as giving up something, but rather gaining something?"

"What do you mean?" Wednesday quizzed, looking up with her lips set in a harsh, tight line.

"I mean that you keep saying that deleting your social media, or at very least limiting yourself on there, is a sacrifice. But what if you look at it less like giving up power and more like gaining it? Yes, you lose the access to a full social presence. But what you gain is stability, peace of mind, control over YOUR own narrative again. You say that removing yourself from that world is giving people what they want, but if that's your choice then it has nothing to do with them."

Wednesday let her words sink in, the fire within her simmering down to smouldering ashes as she considered her point. Sade continued to speak, looking at her with an imploring but firm gaze.

"Furthermore, you keep talking about what other people want, how they will interpret your self-removal from social media. What do you want Wednesday? Don't think about other people's reactions—think about yourself. Your own wants. That should be what you base the decision on. Not the opinions of others."

It sounded stupid, but it hadn't occurred to Wednesday amongst the past few manic weeks to consider what she wanted to do regarding her own social media. At least, not through the lens of how other people would perceive her and interpret her actions. It was such a simple question—what did she want?—and yet, it had left her stumped. She'd been thinking about how deleting her social media, deleting any trace of herself from the online world was giving in, giving the trolls and media what they wanted, which was to tear her down. But who cared? Who cared if that was what she wanted to do?

All this time she'd seen it as an act of giving in, falling victim to the harsh side of the scrutiny. That facing the comments head on, forcing herself to consume them without triggering an anxiety attack was how she would make herself better. But maybe the answer had never been to face the toxic environment with both eyes open. It was to remove herself from it completely. If she was trapped in a room with a deadly snake, she wouldn't take risks trying to face off with it. She'd find the first exit out and leave, putting as much distance between her and the room as she could.

There's a fine line between courage and recklessness.

"I guess I...I never considered it in that way before," she said quietly, lost in a daze of her own thoughts.

Sade smiled, writing something down in her notepad before speaking. "When making big decisions, it's always good to gain a different perspective. It can breathe fresh air into the situation, make it seem less unnerving and consuming."

Wednesday nodded, rubbing her tired eyes with the palm of her hand.

"These are just suggestions though Wednesday," Sade added. "Only you can know what is truly best for you. But try to remember what I said—think about what you want. Not anyone else. Not even me."

"Okay. I'll try," she said, biting her lip nervously.

She stepped back into her house an hour later, drained in every way possible. Sade had a masterful way of flipping every thought into her mind and analysing it through a different lens. Casting doubt onto the strongest thought and shredding apart the weakest. Her mind was a pebble beach and Sade was leaving no stone unturned.

Kicking off her trainers, she traipsed upstairs to the toilet, her body feeling heavier than usual with the weight of her post therapy hangover. After every session, she left feeling like a slightly altered version of herself, and it left a residual feeling of discomfort through to her core. Like she needed to cleanse the before version from herself, scrub the remains of the person she was away; a snake shedding its skin, growth in its most physical form. It was a routine now for her to shower after every session—to watch her old self swirl away down the drain with the water. Her very own metamorphosis.

Stepping into the bathroom, she tiredly began to peel the clothes away from her body, ready to wash away the heaviness. Out of instinct, she avoided the mirror unconsciously, a habit developed over years of brewed self-hatred and nit-picking every aspect of her appearance. But as she straightened up, kicking off her trousers, her eyes caught the flashes of colour scattered over the sides of the mirror.