Page 85 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

Peace.

“I’M SO GLAD YOUDECIDEDto come back.”

I give her the once over and hold back my cringe. The shoes she has on don’t match the crimson of her skirt.

I love that color.

“My parents died.” I speak into the room and she visibly startles. I count the fish as I make my way over to them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

“Parents. As in both?”

Was I speaking another language? How does this woman even call herself a doctor?

“Yes, both,” I snap, impatience lacing my tone. “They were murdered.”

“Oh my God,” she chokes. “I’m so sorry. Do you want to sit?”

I shake my head no and gaze once more at her fish. All nine of them. This will be the last visit I make here.

“Do they know who murdered them?” she queries, shock still evident in her tone. It’s higher and breathier than usual.

“I think so. Maybe.” I shrug. Tapping my finger on the tank, I look over my shoulder at her. “Did you know fish will eat a human body?” I ask, turning back to the pointless creatures. I sense her shift in her seat without having to look at her. “They will see it as any other food, strip it of its nutrients, and poop out the rest,” I laugh without humor.

“That’s off topic,” she says with a weary sigh. “Why don’t you come and have a seat?”

I look over at her once more and she’s scratching at a small scar on her hand.

“It’s a phantom itch.”

Her brow furrows and her head tilts like a puppy, not understanding the superior being in the room.

“The nerve endings are dead in scars,” I tell the stupid woman. “The need to scratch is a phantom itch.”

“Oh.” She quickly covers her scar and shakes her head. “I’m not sure if that’s correct.”

Marching over to where she’s sitting, I lean into her, causing her to rear back and point my finger in my face. “Look,” I bite out, spittle showering over her eyes, cheeks, and nose, “I know about scars, lady.”

The scar Benjamin gave me sometimes itches, but it’s in my mind. He tells me so.

Fear swirls in her eyes, but I’m so bored by her. What a sad life she leads here in this open spaced coffin.

“I want you to have some comfort,” I tell her. It’s a lie, though. I just like taunting her. It’s the best part.

“I don’t understand. Macy, can you please take your seat?” Her voice shakes.

“That’s the problem,” I seethe. “You really don’t understand and that makes you a real shitty doctor. My name isn’t Macy. It’s Pretty Little Doll.”

“That’s not a name.” Tears well in her eyes.

How dare she tell me my given name by my master isn’t my real name.

“Just know,” I hiss as I pull the blade from the pocket of my beautiful dress. “Your head will feed your fish for a while.”

Her eyes enlarge at my words and her body begins to react, but it’s too slow. My blade comes across her throat like a hot spoon through ice cream. I bite my lip and lean further into her so she can be in this moment with me. I watch confusion, fear, sorrow, and lastly, acceptance flash in her dull eyes.

Her body lifts and gasps against mine and I embrace the moment she gives in—the moment her body stops beneath mine. Her head flops back, causing the spray to pump out faster, covering me in a shower of her blood.

Benjamin will punish me for ruining my dress.

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