Devastated (Anger Management, #1)(78)

She caught it and tossed it in the hamper. When she went to help him with his underwear, he glared at her until she stepped back. Good. He had some fight left in him, which was always a good sign.

Once he was completely naked, he casually covered his privates. “Let’s get it over with,” he ordered, looking extremely pissed.

“We will, but first things first,” she said, turning her attention to the small leather bag she’d placed on the counter. After pulling out her kit, she turned to face him, noting the way that his eyes widened in surprise when he saw what she held.

---

“What the hell are you doing?” Chase asked, wincing at the way his voice betrayed his nervousness.

There was a reason he didn’t want anyone here. Well, besides the fact that he didn’t need anyone’s help, that is. He hadn’t had much luck with the nurses in the hospital, rehab or the few that his sister had managed to stick him with when he first came home.

Several of them had abandoned him when he couldn’t move, leaving him lying in his own piss and screaming in pain. He’d been denied the basics of life, making him feel so damn helpless that he could have cried. He’d also dealt with a few that liked to use threats to get a reaction out of him. One of them had actually tried to go through with it. Now he was forced to watch as this strange woman came at him with a pair of scissors and he was helpless to move. He could fight back if he had to and would. He’d done it before and would do it again but didn’t change anything. He was completely at her mercy and he didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust anyone.

She moved quickly behind him and he contemplated dropping forward and trying to crawl out of here, but she’d locked them in.

Shit!

“How do you like it?” she asked, confusing the hell out of him.

“What?”

“Your hair. How do you like it? Short or long?”

He was...confused.

“You’re cutting my hair?” he had to ask, needing a little clarification.

“Yes. It needs it. How do you want it?”

“Short,” he heard himself answer before he remembered that he was supposed to make her job difficult. He reached up and ran his hand through his long greasy hair and winced. It had been a long time since it had been cut. The last time he’d cut it had been about seven months ago and he’d been so disgusted by it that he’d shaved it off. The asshole, as he liked to refer to that prick, Melissa forced on him and the one he had to defend himself against, had gotten a kick out of making the rich boy beg for something. Chase refused to beg for anything as the asshole soon discovered.

“Sounds good to me,” Sloane, he thought her name was, said.

Knowing that he really didn’t have a choice, he sat perfectly still as she began clipping away, preparing himself for the worst. She hummed softly, as she worked, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. Was she going to make him look like an even bigger freak? Not that he went anywhere, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to be someone’s personal joke.

Ten minutes later, she sighed with satisfaction as she put the scissors away only to come back with the electric clippers. His eyes narrowed on her while she leaned in front of him.

“Your beard,” was all she said.

“I like it,” he said defensively. He didn’t. Not really. It itched like hell, but he ran out of razor blades a month ago and the store that delivered his food always forgot them along with half his order. What the hell was a man supposed to do without Doritos?

“It’s uneven, greasy and call me crazy, but with your beautiful hair, intense green eyes and coloring you’d look better without a beard or at least a shorter one. Let’s shave it now and if you don’t like the naked look, then you can always grow it back and trim it.”

He discovered that he was too damn tired to argue. Thanks to her incessant cleaning earlier, he hadn’t been able to get in his customary four-hour afternoon nap. Just sitting here while she worked on him with that damn humming was lulling him to sleep.

If he answered her, he didn’t remember. She probably just took his silence for an answer anyway. No doubt she was used to doing whatever she wanted with her patients because she knew that she could. That wasn’t going to be the case with him. At least, it wouldn’t once he wasn’t so fucking exhausted.

She made quick work of his beard. Once she was done, she stepped back and appraised her work. Great, he was a fucking canvas now. A slow smile spread across her face, a fucking pity smile. He knew he was hideous and now, so did she.

Sloane held a mirror in front of his face before he could look away. He blinked and then blinked again for good measure. His hair looked good. His face was...

He turned away.

“Get it away from me,” he said, hating to see the reminder of what he’d become. It was funny how a year and a half ago he’d had no problem looking in the mirror.

“Well, I think you look very handsome,” she said with a pleased smile.

“Who fucking cares what you think,” Chase bit out coldly.

If he hurt her feelings, she didn’t show it. She smiled patiently as she walked back to the sink. As she searched for something on the counter, he felt his eyes start to drift shut. For a moment, he considered fighting against the exhaustion that was threatening to take over, but in the end, he simply gave in.