“How pretty!” said Ron marveling at his daughters elaborate hair-do. “You’re getting really good about doing your own hair.” He then took her by the hand and twirled her around to get the full view, and suddenly turned a pale white.
“What’s wrong Ron?” asked Tricia when seeing her husbands terrified expression.
He grabbed Barb and shook her roughly, causing her to scream in fear. “Who did those braids…who?”
“Grandpa did my hair. Grandpa did my hair,” she cried. He released her into her mother’s soothing embrace.
Ron was covered in a cold sweat. He braced himself against the doorway of the bathroom as Tricia removed Barb from the room. The lady of the house soon returned to find her husband outside smoking. She joined him.
“My dad invented that type of braid,” he said exhaling smoke. “Other family members tried to mimic it, but couldn’t…”
“Perhaps the mother of one of Barbs friends discovered it,” suggested Tricia, cutting him off. “It’s not uncommon for two people to have the same idea. Its only hair.”
“Don’t patronize me!” he snapped before flipping his cigarette butt to the ground. “There’s something abnormal about that child.” He then stormed inside before his wife could speak.