She sits a few seats down the bar. Brown hair falls to her neck, long bangs covering her left eye. Golden-brown eyes brighten as the next round of drinks come to her and her friend, but my eyes on her. She wears a sleeveless dress, curved in all the right places. Her cheeks are bright red, and she throws her head back and laughs. She has an energy that brightens everyone. She glows with a angelic light. I move forward, unable to wait any longer. I trip and stumble, and pour my drink onto her friend’s dress. Her friend screams, and she laughs. I grin nervously at her, while her friend stumbles drunkenly to the bathroom.
“What’s your name?"
“Andy.”
We talk for hours, and by the end of the night, she clings to my arm, waving good-bye to her friend, who has her own man. We kiss all the way to my house, a small one-story cabin. She giggles and laughs, and can’t keep her hands off me. I pull her through the front door, and she walks around purposefully, as if she belongs there. I move out, into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses. I like her. She’s my favorite.
When I come out, she has a door open. I curse internally as she turns around with a wide-eyed look. ”What are these?" Her words are slurred only slightly. Along shelves are life-like heads, all female, beautiful and still, like porcelain. Eyelashes lower over glass eyes, all different colors, giving them a sultry look. Their lips are all colored with different hues of colors, from bright red to the softest pink, all pushed out in a soft pout. Their skin is smooth, ranging from the darkest brown to the palest ivory. The hair is designed to perfection, curled, straightened, wavy. Their makeup is soft, not overly done, but still giving a pretty shine. I breath in slowly, my mind racing to figure out a good lie. My heart pounds almost too loud that I can barely hear the lie that slips out.
I set the glasses down and run my hands across her hips. “My sister enjoyed dolls. After she died… I…” My voice cracks, and it must be believable enough, because her hand goes over her mouth. Her other wraps around my neck, and she pulls me into a kiss. I grin against her lips, and pull away, handing her the glass of wine. She doesn’t see the small, tiny pill that falls out of my sleeve and into the red liquid. She downs it readily. Everything else happens in quick scenes. She sways. She crashes to the ground. I grin.
I do the minor touch ups first. Cleaning the skin, exfoliating it so it won’t rot. I switch the eyes, setting the real ones in a jar, painting the glass one’s a beautiful gold. I lower the eyelashes. I paint the lips a beautiful soft pink, my favorite color, and push them into a small smile, so it looks oh-so sweet. I color in the cheeks with just the faintest red, the skin too pale to go rich. Black and brown eye shadow, just a quick swipe across the lid, just enough to give her eyes the highlights they need. Finally, I straighten her hair, organizing it so it falls perfectly over one cheek, trimming the split-ends. I step away, letting out a low sigh. She’s so beautiful.
I stroke her painted cheek, sweep off the excess hair. I set it on the middle shelf. She is the star. The most beautiful. I back out, lock and close the door, and throw the rest of her into my basement. I sit down, and sip the glass of wine.
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