I stared at my reflection. I hated it. I always did. It glared back at me. Her long hair, flat ironed by motherly hands. The dress she was wearing was nice, but not on her. It looked wrong.

I itched to tear it off. To cut my hair. To look like me. I ached to tear down the facade I had let be built. As much as I fantasized I knew I never would.

His name would be Evan, not Evangeline. He would wear pants and shorts, not skirts. He would never be forced to wear makeup and he never would unless he wanted to.  No one would tell Evan how to act or who to be and no one could stop him.

A knock on my door reminded me that I was not Evan. I was Evangeline. My mom peeped her head in, smiling at me. Not at me. She was smiling at the daughter she always wanted. A mannequin.  

"Guests are in the kitchen. Come down. Talk to them," She said politely. I frowned at her through the mirror. I hated guests. They always said the same thing. You're so pretty. What a wonderful young woman. You're so grown up. They inspected me like I was a lab rat in a maze. 

"Do I have to?" I whined, even though it never worked. She sighed. Her mouth was a thin line of disappointment. I could see the controlled frustration in her eyes.

"Jeremy is here. Why don't you talk to him," She commanded more than suggested. I sucked my lips. I hated Jeremy the most. He bombarded me with degrading pick up lines and always stood so close I could smell what his axe was trying to hide.

"Okay. Just give me a sec," I replied, desperate for solitude. A grateful smile slipped onto my mom's lips.

As soon as the door closed I rolled my eyes. She was so annoying. Her personality was duller than a flat rock and was only interesting when she got blackout drunk.

She didn't even love me. It stung a bit when I first realized, but it was true. I was just a prop for her to show off. She dresses me up nice, shows me off, then sends me away. If I died she'd probably be sad for just long enough to get wasted. 

I looked back at my reflection. I could feel that one of a kind adrenalin running through my veins. The kind that made you lose all impulse control. I glanced at the scissors on the dresser, then back at my hair. I snatched them and before I could change my mind grabbed a fistful of my hair and sliced through it.

The hair fell to the ground in a heavy bundle. I didn't look at the cut. I just lifted the scissors and snipped at my hair, watching the pieces fall past my face. Then I carefully went around the horrible cuts and evened it up, making it look somewhat okay.

I stood back to look at my work. I could hear my heart in my ears as a smile spread across my face. I ran my hair through it, marveling at its lightness. I looked at the Hair on the floor. A mix of long as short strands surrounded me, accompanied by the ghost of who I used to be.

I could hear my mom shouting my name. I prayed she wasn't coming in the room.

"One minute!" I shouted, tugging the dress over my head and rummaging through my drawers. I threw five pairs of jeans on the floor before pulling out my black pants. I quickly put them on.

"Evangeline Ross. Get down here this instant!" My mom shouted. My face flushed. I wondered what was happening outside that I needed to be there for. I threw clothes out of my closet before I pulled out my brother's old button down. I stole it from him before he threw it away on cleaning week.

I threw it over my white tank top as I looked at my room. It was covered in clothes and hair. My mom was going to be pissed. I heard her heavy footsteps echoing in the hall. I had a good ten seconds before she came bursting in the room.

I panicked. I could feel my heart racing. I looked for something to do. Somewhere to hide. I gave jumping out the window and running a brief thought before my door slammed open. 

"Evangeline Ross, what are-" She stopped, staring at me. At my hair. At my clothes. I winced as the door swing open, exposing me to the entire party happening outside. I heard the whispering before my mom grabbed my arm.

"Evangeline. What did you do? You've, you, you just. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is? What the fuck?" She shouted. I stared over her shoulder at the people. Dead in the center of the mass was Jeremy. His mouth was wide.

I felt like I should blush or look away, but instead, I stared at him, daring him to look away. My mom grabbed my face and redirected my attention to her.

"Evangeline. What do you have to say?" Her voice softened. Not in a happy way. In a broken way. Like I had broken her. I felt my blood boil.

"Evan," I muttered. She scrunched her face. I felt my stomach bottom out.

"What?" She asked I looked at Jeremy. Looked him right in his piggy, bloodshot eyes.

"It's Evan," I said, or shouted. So everyone could hear, especially Jeremy. I ripped my arm out of her grasp and turned to the door. She kicked it closed with her foot and smacked me across the face.

"What the hell!" I shouted. My face stung and my eyes watered. I wondered if I screamed for help if anyone would come.

"Evangeline. You are embarrassing me in front of a ton of people. Get your act together." Tears formed in her eyes. My face flushed. I forced myself to look her in the eyes. They were deceivingly soft, like roses when you can't see the thorns.

"I did get my act together. After being your mannequin for years I finally realized that I can be me! I'm not Evangeline, I'm Evan!" I screamed, throwing my hands in the air. My mom stood there. Shocked. Appaled. Every emotion on her face. 

"I want you gone by noon tomorrow. Anything you leave will be throw in the trash. For the rest of the night stay in your room and don't leave until morning." She said, completely monotonous. I clenched my fist as she opened the door.

"You're just gonna kick me out? Kick me out like you did dad?" I shouted, knowing it would cut deep. She slammed the door behind her. I could hear the stillness of the party. I didn't move. I bearly breathed.

How could I have done so much damage by cutting my hair? By saying I was Evan. Not Evangeline.