Page 10 of Dollface

“Dolly knows nothing!” she speaks between her unnatural laughter. “Closed eyes!”

I stare at her, frustrated by her teasing. “You should really go home, Havoc. I’m sure your boss is looking for you.”

Havoc rises from the floor, her laughter immediately silenced as she peers up at me. “Boss is playing games.” She grips the furs hanging from the side of my bed, clawing her way on top as she hovers over me. “Many games.” She tilts her head as her sinister smile grows, her sharp teeth on full display. I turn to look away, frightened of what she might do next. The sound of my racing heartbeat fills my ears as Havoc’s distant laughter pulls my attention back only to find her gone. It’s as if she vanished into thin air.

“THE DOLLY!”I cringe at Havoc’s shriek as she runs toward me.

“Havoc,” I smile softly, “Helloo f—” Havoc tackles me to the ground before straddling my waist.

“Why, oh why, does the dolly walk with her head toward the ground? Can’t dolly see? The bug she is after doesn’t crawl in the dead dirt but flies high in the sky,” she whispers in my ear before jumping from me and standing. I give her an awkward smile before freezing. There he is, the same masked man who saved me before, the very one from my sinful dream. Thoughts of it flood into my mind as my cheeks become hot.

“Fascinating,” Havoc muses while poking my cheek. “Boss man! Blue and red can be both, not just one. Very important. Not all will be purple. But purple is pretty, like Charisma and dolly. Not Sullen.” She makes a face, as if grossed out.

The masked man walks up to us, and it’s only now that I realize just how tall and broad he really is. I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze, or, well, to look into the black holes that I assume his eyes are located behind.

“Havoc,” the man says, still focusing on me, his invisible gaze heavy on my skin. Havoc races to his side, her hand above her brow.

“Sir,” she asks, furrowing her brows dramatically.

“Fuck off,” he states simply. She salutes him before skipping off, making kissing noises as she goes.

“H-i-i,” I say softly, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I guess I owe you a thanks for saving my life.” I hear him scoff.

“Don’t mention it. Just make sure you return my knife.” He grunts before turning to leave. I quickly run after him, not wanting to lose my chance to talk to him again. “I-I’m new here. Obviously. I’m actually from the other world, Deadmoor. Do you know of it?” He scoffs while continuing to walk, and it takes everything I have to keep up with his impressive long strides.

“I’m well aware of that hell hole, dollface, along with thatcuntwho created you.”Cunt? Did he mean the Creator?

“Y-you are?” I whisper, running in front of him, intrigued and slightly scared. “Y-you know her, and you saved me from the Boogeyman. Havoc, she works for you... right? There’s so much I don’t know?—”

“The Boogeyman?” He stops, snapping. His voice sends tingles throughout my body like I’ve never experienced before. “I saved you from the Boogeyman?”

“Well... yes. He was with that?—”

“You,” he states firmly. “Heiswith you, right now.” My brows furrow as I look around us before the realization of what he’s saying hits me.

“You,” I breathe, looking at his mask. “You’rethe boogeyman?”

“Your name for me, not mine,” he mutters before turning to leave.

“Well, if that’s not your name, then what is?” I ask, still trying to keep up with him, my platform shoes scraping along the dirt. “Mine is Blue.” He stops walking, whipping around to stare at me.

“How original. You come up with that one all by yourself?” He taunts as I feel heat flood my cheeks once more as I shake my head.

“N-No, I— my creator. She named me.” He tsks, breathing out a dry laugh.

“Well, I guess I can’t say much. At least you got a name.” Furrowing my brows, I run around to face him. Does he mean he’s also a creation?

“Are you from Dreadmoor?” I whisper the question as the eyeholes of his mask look into mine. I wonder what he sees in these wretched buttons. I love eyes. I’m so jealous of the emotions they hold, the depth in them.

“I was,” he murmurs. “The Spinst—your creator and I didn’t really get along, though.” He moves around me to start walking again.

“Wait, are you from there? Are your eyes—” He stops and looks over his shoulder back at me.

“That’s enough questions. I don’t enjoy chatting, especially not with creations.”Technically, we’re both creations.I release a huff of annoyance.

We walk in silence for a moment before we come across Havoc in the distance, skipping in a circle, singing a rather terrifying song to herself.

“Havoc,” I smile softly. “She’s—unique.”

---