Hannah’s Flattop

This story is a what if story about the character Hannah Baker from 13 reasons why. What if the salons were closed when she decided to cut her hair, and only a barbershop was open.

 

 

Hannah Baker’s footsteps echoed through the deserted streets, each step a silent declaration of her intent to escape the relentless grip of the past. The moon cast a stark light upon her, revealing a girl whose spirit had been bruised but not broken. The night was cold, but the warmth of the distant street lamps painted the sidewalks with a glow that seemed almost welcoming. As she passed by the shuttered businesses, their darkened windows held no secrets, only the quietude of a town that had gone to bed, oblivious to her turmoil.

 

She was looking for an open salon. Somewhere she could control one of the few things in her life right now, her hair. But as she passed more and more salons on her walk, all she found was them closed up for the night. She had almost made it to her parent’s store, when a neon open sign flashed into her eyes.

 

Taking a look, she noticed the barber sweeping up the hair from the last customer. Hannah hesitated outside the door. There were no magazines, no curling irons to be seen. Just clippers, scissors, combs, and a poster of military-style haircuts from the 1960s on the wall.

 

Taking a deep breath, Hannah opened the shop door and strolled in, hoping to appear confident, but not feeling confident one bit.

 

The barber looked up from throwing the cut hair into a trash can. “I don’t do trims girl. If you want that you’ll have to go to a salon. I only do military regs here.” He told her gesturing to the poster she seen from outside. “If you want one of then, then I can do it.” He added, moving behind his chair abd turning it to face her.

 

Hannah took a moment to process his words. Military regulations? That was definitely not what she had in mind. But the thought of going home and facing her reflection in the morning was unbearable. She felt the weight of her long, tangled hair, a constant reminder of the pain she carried. “Alright,” she said with a firmness she didn’t feel, “I’ll let you decide whats best” she added sitting down in the chair.

 

The barber nodded, eyeing her with a mix of curiosity and respect. He took his time, examining her hair with the precision of a sculptor sizing up a block of marble. He threw a haircutting cape over her and tied a white neck tissue around her neck, before snapping the cape closr tightly around her neck. Hannah swallowed hard as he reached for the clippers, the sound of them buzzing to life making her heart race.

 

The barber pushed her head forwards til her chin rested on her chest, before he parted her hair over both shoulders. “This is going to be some change. And it’ll take a while to get used to it. You sure you still want to go on?” He asked seriously.

 

Hannah’s eyes searched the floor, finding a comfort in the anonymity of the tiles. She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

 

Tue barber nodded, through she couldn’t see it, and quickly placed the clippers at her nape abd pushing them straight up the back of her head and over the vertex of her head, stopping before getting to her midscalp.

 

He repeated the process again and again, until all the long hair on the back of her head and vertex was a short light brown stubble. He then tilted her head up abd straight before tilting it to the right.

 

He lifted the hair on the left side of her head with a comb, and placed the clippers at her sideburn, before running thr clipper upwards through her hair abilities over her hairline.

 

Her eyes widened in the mirror as she saw the long locks fall to the floor, the sound like a whisper of regret. But she steeled herself, remembering the reason she came here. With every pass, she felt a piece of her old self slipping away, and it was both terrifying and saddening.

 

Hannah knew she was doing this out as a way to control something about herself that wasn’t spoiled by other people’s view of her. But she was sad to watch her long waves being shorn from her head as easily as the barber was doing so.

 

The barber made pass after pass up the side of Hannah’s head, rounding her left ear, and finishing the left side off with a happy smile at the sight of the light brown stubble there. He moved to the right side and repeated his actions from the left side, only starting behind her right ear this time.

 

Hannah felt the coolness of the air kissing her neck, a stark contrast to the warmth that had been trapped under her hair. She watched the barber’s reflection in the mirror, his eyes focused on the task at hand. The buzzing grew louder as he brought the clippers closer to her ears, shaving the last of her hair pn the right side down to the same uniform length as the back, crown, and left side, leaving the top with the longest hair.

 

The barber changed the comb to one that was more flat. He slid it through her hair on top of her head a few times, before laying it against her scalp at the front of her head.

 

He quickly ran the clippers over the comb, severing any hair above the comb from her head, and leaving her hair barely an eighth of an inch long. He moved slowly backwards towards the shorn vertex of her head, making sure to keep the comb flat against her scalp and steady.

 

Hannah watched the transformation, her eyes misting over. It was like watching a time-lapse of a leaf changing color in the fall, only this was much more permanent. With each pass of the clippers, she felt the last of her protective barrier being stripped away.

 

The barber finished buzzing all the hair on top of her head to an eighth of an inch. He then went back over it to make sure he didn’t miss anything and to make sure the top was flat, level, and shaped up well. Once he had all that, he turned off the clippers.

 

The barber grabbed a smaller pair of clippers, this ones had a higher pitch when turned on, and made a stripe down the middle of her head from vertex to the edge of her frontal region, leaving it bare. He then proceeded to use the smaller clippers to reduce all the stubble on thr back, vertex, and sides of her head to the skin.

 

Her eyes followed his every move as the hair on the sides and back of her head disappeared into nothingness. The feeling of the cold steel on her skin made her shiver. She watched the barber’s reflection as he worked tirelessly, his eyes focused, his hands steady.

 

Finally the barber turned off the smaller clippers and laid then down, before grabbing a neck duster brush and dusting off her head of loose hairs. Once he was sure she was clear, he removed the cape and the neck tissue from around her neck and moved the cape away from her body. “There you good girl. One horseshoe flattop.”

 

Hannah looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes widening. The reflection staring back at her was almost unrecognizable. She touched her head tentatively, feeling the soft downy stubble that covered her scalp. She looked like a completely different person.

 

The barber handed her a handheld mirror so she could see the back. She took it, her hand shaking slightly. The sight of her bare neck and the stark contrast between the short, military-style top and the shaved sides was jarring. But there was something about it too. It was as if she had shed a layer of herself that she no longer needed.

 

“Looks good doesnt it?” he asked, a hint of pride in his voice.

 

Hannah nodded, not trusting her voice. The haircut was so different from what she had pictured, but somehow, it felt right. It was a declaration of her lack of control, a silent scream to the world that she was losing charge of her life. She paid the barber and thanked him, feeling the cold night air on her newly exposed neck as she stepped outside.

 

She made it home, and listened as her parents fought over bills and the store, and anything else that passed them off. Neither of then even took the time to notice her hair, or lack of in this case.

 

The next morning. As she walked through the halls of Liberty High School. She noticed that alot of people were staring at her. She blushed and tried to brush her hair infront of her face, only to feel the soft stubble on top of her head and the smoothness of the sides of her head, and remembered what happened the night before.