I adjusted my posture, and the tiny step stool skidded on the bathroom tile. No matter how many times I changed position, my knees ended up stabbing my torso.
"Stop your squirming," Holly scolded me. She'd been makeover-ing my face for decades now. I crinkled my nose, which got me a complimentary poke in the eye socket. Squirming. That's an awful word. With a finger on her lips, Holly squinted. Her inspecting stare burned into my soul. I resisted the urge to readjust my extremities.
"Here's something about me," Holly said with a pleasant hum, "I didn't always live here in the Beehive, haha."
"Where are you from?"
"Vegas."
"Really?" I remarked with half-enthusiasm. Makes sense. She snatched up a knife. I blinked. No, those are tweezers. Now noticing my defensive stance, I lowered my shoulders.
"Mhmm," Holly sounded proud of herself. "I tried to get into law for a bit. Imagine me: a smart, sexy attorney winning a popular case and getting on a TV show!" She pushed invisible glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her laugh was irritating, to say the least- like a dying puppy, halting in its whines. I'd only heard her genuine laugh one other instance.
"Then I got a little occupied," Holly continued despite my lack of attention, "with some stuff… with some people. Drama, mostly." She applied another layer of sticky, cold powder to my cheekbones. "I knew a somebody here and got a deal on a cheaper living space. Then I got into studying law again." I gave a small smile, unsure whether or not nodding would screw up her process.
"You're not Mormon, are you?" she asked with a forced-polite tone in her voice. She set a brush down onto her lap.
"No," I replied simply. I've been to church a few times in the past. I can't go back now.
"I thought so. You were always hanging out at the bar. With a plus one. On drinking hours." said Holly. After a pause, she moistened her teeth and grinned. "You're a sneaky boy, drinking underage and cheating on your tall girlfriend with lil ol' me. Ex now, but still."
I regret it, I almost blurted out, but my stiffening throat terminated my speech. Holly is helping me now. No looking back. Things will be better from here on with her. A small part of me held some doubts.
Holly narrowed her eyes, tilting her head for a different angle. She mumbled something about my eyes- I'd totally forgotten about them. How am I gonna make my eyes look normal?
"So, tell me something."
"Pardon?" I hummed.
"Tell me something about you," Holly articulated as if I was a child. She dug another borderline-scary-looking tool from a box.
"Oh. Um… I just d-did, technically. I'm not Mormon."
She squinted.
"That doesn't count."
I rubbed the hair on my neck, mumbling, "Okay, well…" What am I supposed to say? I just cry and regret. I don't have impressive skills or hobbies or feats. Perhaps I would have found one of those if I'd considered college. But no, I had to be stubborn and pursue a love life instead.
"I think that… p-pizza pockets are the b-b-best thing-g to have ever been invented?" I said the first thing that came to mind, then cringed at both my mechanical stutter and my answer. Dummy. Holly's expression didn't budge.
"That's… more of an opinion than a fact."
"Well, then-n, give me an opinion," I acted fast, leaning forward slightly. Holly smiled, and I felt a whim of confidence now that I controlled the conversation.
"I think that your eyes- when they do that freaky glow thing," she stuffed her hands between her thighs as she spoke, "it's cute."
"O-oh, you really think it's cute?" Everyone else was terrified… Involuntarily, I covered my ears- just in case some redness showed up there and to compose myself before I did something stupid. It's not cute. I look possessed.
"Why do you think that?" I asked her, unintentionally sounding aggressive. She didn't seem to mind.
"Your eyes seem to glow when you're… feeling strongly about something. Like when I slapped you, for instance."
"I… suppose they do." Apparently they always did that.
"Mhmm," Holly chirped. "Showing feelings… literally, haha… I admire that kind of thing." She rested her hands on her face and her elbows on her knees. "Your turn. An opinion." She stared at me expectantly as she mixed together some concoction with a brush and a tin. I repositioned my lanky legs once more.
"Foxes are the worst," I did not return with a flirty comeback. Holly's smile faltered. She eased out a chuckle, flicking down her long eyelashes.
"I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with that one. Foxes are adorable," she sighed and went back to doctoring my complexion. I gripped the sides of my seat. Why did I feel guilty? Flirting used to be such an easy game.
A pause later, Holly sat her tools onto the counter. She looked at me from underneath her lashes.
"So, Michael," she started, using a soft, convincing kind of voice. As I poked unceremoniously, the thick mass of makeup caking my face took half my attention. Holly placed two fingers underneath my chin to examine my face, the edges of her nails nudging my neck. She stole my attention then.
"Are you still looking for jobs?"
I hesitated, having not anticipated this question at all.
"Well, no, I-I can't really- not with all the- there's n-no way I can even go outs-side with, y'know, the way I- the way I am right now, so…" I trailed off when I noticed Holly's distant gaze. Behind her eyes were fantasies I'd never know.
"How about I give you an offer?"
I raised an eyebrow in intrigue and confusion. When I got it, my gut pretzeled. Oh.
"Y-you're smooth, I'll admit," I spilled, unfolding my arms to wag a finger.
"And you're the sweetest guy I ever met," Holly purred back. She played with her collar, and I stirred in my seat.
"Heard that one," I grunted, trying to seem unbothered. "There are pl-plenty of other sweet guys out there. As well as better compliments-s."
"But you always seemed so different from the rest."
Because I am, I thought, and would have felt guilty if it weren't for Holly's continued stare. And she doesn't seem to care about how different- despite everything she knows about me. Is this even real? One of her hands settled on my knee, jolting me back to the tense air. I looked back up at her rosy-pink face. Her eyes shined with hazy olive-gold shades. What a nice colour. We looked away at the same time.
"Remember what you said to me the first time we talked?" Holly simpered at the floor.
"I don't know if it still works down there, heheh," I replied in a breathless laugh. Holly tilted her head, and I watched her blonde curls sprawl over her impressive chest and shoulders.
"I'd be happy to test that theory for you anytime, Michael."
We got caught in another staredown. Her breath warmed my face, and although it smelled like she hadn't eaten in a little while, it sent fuzzy sensations throughout the rest of my body.
"I'll think about it," I blushed. Meanwhile, my brain screamed at me, shut up! Stop! Look at yourself! There's no way she likes you! This isn't real!
"You think long and hard about it," Holly gave me a sly grin. My mouth grew a grin like a contagious, uncontrollable virus, and I could no longer hold back an awkward giggle. I tried to think of a quip- something fast and subtle like hers were. Before I could say anything, Holly slammed shut her makeup boxes in one swift whack, startling me nearly off my seat.
"That should do it!" she declared. I gave myself a quick moment of composure, then rose to my feet with the help of the counter. I looked in the mirror. My breath almost stopped. I didn't know what to think. It wasn't worse, but it was a few steps up from purple pseudo-zombie. My empty eye sockets, bright irises, and milk-white face made me look like a ghost trying its best to appear human. I suppose that's what I was.
"It's not perfect," Holly said, noting my expression. She swept thin and greasy hair strands out of my face, standing almost on the edge on her feet to reach it comfortably. "But you are a tough case, you know that? And personally, I think it's better than before. You look like a mature, edgy vampire, haha. So, you're welcome." Under her breath, she muttered something about her teen years. I finally looked away from my own face.
"Thanks."
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I spent the rest of the night and the majority of the next day in my journal. I jotted down events from my life, trying to write them as if they were just chunks of a fictional story, not real memories. My eyelids drifted shut. I kept writing. As usual, distant pains emerged from reliving memories. I endured it all to keep my focus.
He replaced everything with mechanical parts- plastic, rubber, metal, whatever other materials. The blood… the heat… it hurt so much. How many times did he put me back together? How many times did he break me? There were boxes.
My brow furrowing, I clicked the pen at a velocity near humanly-impossible. Am I really not human? No, there are parts of me still human. I don't feel like… a machine. Machines know they're machines. I fumbled with a few strands of my hair, then stopped when a few ended up loose in my fingers. It explains so much. But what if everyone is lying to me? What if I'm lying to myself? I could hear Circus Baby screaming 'dummy!' at me. Regardless, I continued to toy with that idea. I didn't want to accept that I wasn't real, even after everything I'd gone through to find out the truth. I can feel emotions and pain and love. Just like a real person can. There's no way machines can do that. I'm a real person. Just different. With glowing eyes, and different organs. Just that something is wrong. I could be a vampire. My brain replayed several moments in which I bit people. No.
Who am I kidding? I always felt like a clone. I don't belong anywhere. Except under Father's shoe. My throat clenched so tightly I could hardly catch a breath. I gripped the pen again, opening my eyes. My strokes threatened to tear the paper. I watched contours and curves form from underneath my wrist. I had never really tried drawing before, so the action was foreign. What did I draw? A rough, thickly-lined rectangle. A box. I found myself absentmindedly drawing more boxes, filling up the entire page. Then I drew a face. The complexity of the details alarmed me- it seemed I was better at this than I thought. My best friend… and- I drew another face. Me. We're trapped in the boxes. Is she trapped somewhere, too?
I slammed the journal shut, my eyes burning with afterimages of boxes and people and disasters. I clung to the wall as I rushed out of the house. Taking a breath, I focused on the outdoor sensations. The cool breeze swelled my thin jacket and puffed through my lungs. The patio railing felt rough in my grasp. I eased myself into the metal stair in the corner, leaves crunching under my feet.
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My chubby hands clutched the slender plastic dolls like dining utensils. Multiplication was going to wait tonight. For now, the secret, tantalising love of Laurie and Steph must go on! I looked over my shoulder. Nobody's going to come in here. Nobody does anymore. I laid the barbie dolls on their tiny bed, their legs hanging off the edge. I glanced at the door once more, then made the dolls kiss.
"You're so sexy, Laurie. I love you."
I giggled at their funny positions. I'd seen people do things like that on a tape before, so I knew what I was doing. They were just friends though since they were both girls. Next to me, my friend gave me a judgemental stare.
"Lizzie wouldn't like this. These were her toys."
I grabbed the fat clown-girly one off the bed pillow and screeched in a high-pitched voice, "What are you two doing in here?!"
"AHH! She's gonna eat us in her belly!"
"Haha, joke's on her, I'm into that-" I stopped playing. Mummy and Daddy are fighting again. They are loud today. I dropped the toys and crawled up to the door, ignoring my burning kneecaps. I twisted the doorknob carefully. I told my friend to keep Steph and her girl-friend company before tiptoeing down the hallway.
Newspaper clippings were scattered all across the floor- it was checkered- no, it wasn't, it was the smooth old dark wood floor that was built in the early 70s. Down the end of the hallway, the bad friend glared with his bloody, shark-like smile and shook his head. But I stepped forward anyway- just until I could see a bit into the kitchen. I couldn't see my parents, but I could certainly hear them from here.
"-to me- you lied to everyone! And-and Elizabeth! That was your fault! You couldn't live with yourself after that little fuck up!" I gasped at that bad word Mum just used. She never used words like that. Nobody did. That was a bad, bad word. Is she going to be dragged to Hell now?
"Michael's death was just an accident, Will! Why couldn't you just accept that? Why couldn't you let his little soul rest? But NO, you had to go and do the impossible! You aren't God, William, you're just a sad man with a knife collection!"
What is she talking about? My head began to swim, and my vision filled with those fuzzy dots from the TV. I couldn't breathe. I knew what she was talking about, and I didn't. The bear hadn't broken his gaze. The newspapers shuffle about.
…child is currently hospitalized as doctors are struggling to wake him from his injury-induced coma…
I heard the last of my father's words, "-and everything I've done for this family was done out of love!"
"Love?! You think-"
"I put him back together! You were so happy that he was back, Martha!"
"You think a piece of scrap metal will replace our baby boy?! You think building a robot is the solution to all your problems, don't you?!"
Vomit travelled up my throat. I lurched sideways, and the floor sounded underneath my sneakers. CROAAAK! My parents froze. I wished I would die. Again.
"We know you're there, Michael. Come out, you little sneak."
His bellows rang in my ears. Despite everything in me screaming to light the house ablaze and never look back, I obeyed his orders. I stared down at the kitchen tile. I didn't want to see those eyes.
"Wh… what is it, dear?" Mum's voice sounded far away- like I was in a box, and she was on the outside.
"I just… needed help with my homework. That's all."
She approached me. Her hands cupped my cheeks, catching my tears. My forehead itched with her hair. How could I have forgotten those dark emerald eyes- glossing over with terror and disbelief?
"Do you still love me, Mum?"
"Go back to your room. I'll- I'll be there to help you soon."
I blinked, then I was in my room. She's pretending. She's not very good at it. Holding my breath, I pressed an ear against my door. There were rapid footsteps. Then a scream. The blinding glint of Father's knife- no, I didn't see it then. I heard it.
"Ow! You're hurting me!"
"Please, don't leave me alone. I- I don't want to be alone."
"YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE BECOMING A M-"
Her gurgled cry of pain echoed in my head. I burst open my door. Scarlet rain gushed into the house, soaking the newspapers to mushy, slippery piles. And then there he was in the doorway.
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I bolted upright from sleep. The metal lawn chair groaned with my rapid movement. My diary- no, journal- where is it? I needed to document that memory/dream thing. My pulse thumped in my throat. Where is it?! I snapped my fingers, remembering where I left it, and made my way back to Holly's living room. My joints clicked as I hurried; the edge of the doorway almost caught my foot. Taking a nap didn't do much to fix my low-energy body.
There was the journal, sprawled open in large, manicured hands.
"Oh, hi," Holly closed my journal sharply upon seeing me, "I didn't know you actually wanted to use it like a diary. You should have told me."
"I feel so bad. I have no idea you went through so much. Why didn't you say anything?" she said in kind of a forced-endearing tone. I stood there, my tightened lips unable to speak. Is she being serious right now? I tried to focus on keeping that dream at the forefront of my fragile memory. I knew he killed Mother, but I didn't know I was there-
"You've been through an awful lot of messed-up shit, Mikey," she started. My heart jerked in my ribcage. I finally could speak, mumbling sharply, "D-d-don't call me that-t." Holly cocked her head.
"Why?" she asked, then after a pause said, "Oh, apologies. That cute little black girl called you that. Adorable nickname." My throat tightened. Holly continued, not noticing my obvious discomfort, "She went missing, right? What happened? You blamed yourself for it a lot in your little diary." I didn't say a word.
"You can trust me," she tried. "Did you really do it? Or is it really just a prank?" I felt an awful scowl cross my face and tightened my fists. How was I supposed to trust her now? She snooped into my business instead of waiting for me to open up about things.
I have limited options if I don't stay here, a part of me rationalised. I have to deal with her. I'm not going to jail- I have people to find.
"Give it b-back," I asserted. It proved difficult with so many thoughts scrambling in my head. Holly frowned, then covered it with a thin-lipped smile.
"Fine."
She slid the book back into my hands. Its warmth disgusted me.
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The evening announced itself via the cool moonlight glowing through the shades. I tapped my pen on the coffee table, making a rhythm that matched my own. I could be a one-man-band. The journal/diary sat within arm's reach on the table- there was no way I'd let it out of my sights again. Holly had already gone to bed after a conversation about the importance of beauty sleep- she had failed to convince me to join her. I wasn't in the mood for any of that. Especially not after earlier.
She's egotistical, I knew that about Holly now. She manipulates to get what she wants. I set the pen down finally, swallowing as I felt guilt eating me up again. I did the same thing to her. I deserve this, then. Karma. I shook the self-loathing thoughts out of my head. What does Holly want from me? Sex? A trusting relationship? Neither seemed fitting- not at the moment. What did I ever want from her?
Rapid movement caught the corner of my eye. I squinted at the floor, and for a second, I did not notice the tiny cream-coloured animatronic crawling across the cream-coloured carpet.
"Huh?" I gasped. How did it get in here?! The Minireena giggled and scrambled away; its tutu ribbons fluttered behind it. I jumped to my feet, momentarily regretting it thanks to body aches. While the Minireena crossed the border from carpet to hardwood no problem, I limped along the wall. We stopped at the end of the hallway, surrounded by three doors. The Minireena looked up at me with a daunting, eerie smile. I shook my head, mouthing, Don't you dare! The little robot slithered underneath the last door. No! That's her room! Groaning in frustration, I pressed my ear against the door. I expected a muffled scream or a yelp soon.
"Of course! You know I'll be there, honey," Holly declared. After a second of confusion, I assumed she must be on the phone. Still, I waited for a frightened shout. Holly blabbed on and on- I paid no attention to what she spoke about. Either she hasn't noticed it, or that Reena hid away fast. Minutes later, I stepped back from the door. Or- actually, I would have, if my ears hadn't picked up my name. I sprung back into my awkward position at her bedroom door.
"Yeah, I just don't know what to do with him," Holly sighed. I frowned. A twinge of guilt teased me. There are plenty of other guys named Michael. It's not a unique name.
"Absolutely. He is mentally deranged. He- yes, he really almost bit someone's arm off!" She dropped her voice to a hush at that last part. My stomach wrenched. No, she's talking about me.
"No, no, I- I'm not- well, do you really think they'll give me money? I could get famous, actually. On the news. I hope I look good on camera."
I clamped a hand over my face, getting sicker by the second. I can't trust her, can I? She's gonna turn me in.
"No. He's interested in me one second, then he isn't. He's insane. But- look, if I can fix him instead of turn him in, I feel like we could have something." She paused. "Girl, stop it. You've done worse." The person on the line kept teasing unintelligibly, and Holly snapped in a flurry of embarrassment, "I can't stop thinking about it, okay? He doesn't look that bad to me- I can't explain it… I just get dizzy, and then he's just- it's like I just see a sweet and innocent guy. Not some crazy freak. But I know that's what he really is." A sigh was the last thing I picked up. Holly lowered her voice, presumably discussing more about my fate. I slunk away from her door.
I can't trust her, I kept thinking as my heart pounded. I have to do something. Should I talk to her? Explain everything? Would she understand? She seems to like me, despite everything. She wants to fix me. Maybe I should give her a chance to- Holly's door swung open. My eyes widened, meeting her tired, disappointed ones.
"Don't you know eavesdropping is rude?"
""Uh, no, I wasn't- I was just, um, I was just-t w-wondering wher-re th-th uh-" I took in a shaky breath to relax and slow down my voice- "-the bathroom was." When I finished saying that, I noticed the open, available bathroom an arm's length away. Shit. Holly narrowed her eyes. She shot a finger to the right. I strained a tiny smile and a "thank you".
In the safety of the bathroom, I fought to keep my breathing under control. My thoughts bounced around my head. I can't trust her. She's right, I am crazy. I am acting crazy. I feel crazy. Oh no. One, two… in, out. She's going to turn me in. No, I have to stay here. I just gotta keep my guard up.
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The phone rang.
"HEY STUPID GUESS WHAT?! DAD TOOK ME TO THE ORTHO TODAY AND WE SAW THIS POODLE DOG THAT WAS LIKE, FIVE DIFFERENT COLOURS- BUT ALSO, I FEEL REALLY GOOD TODAY BECAUSE- WELL, KINDA SORE, TOO, BUT-"
"Mabel-"
"MY BRACES! THEY'RE GONE! THEY TOOK THEM OFF! SWEET FREEDOM!"
"Oh, that's awesome!"
"I KNOW RIGHT! BOOYAH, WE'RE GETTING NACHOS!"
"Wait, w- right now?"
"YEA- oh, well if you're busy, we can just like, do it later… oh, you have a date later, don't you? Aw, I'm sorry, I didn't want to-"
"No, it's fine, things can be arranged. I actually forgot that was today. Oops."
"Okay, great- great because I already paid for it anyway. More for me if you don't show up, haha!"
"I love you."
No, I didn't say that. That's not what I said.
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"Michael Afton, don't you just want to relax and forget about all of your problems? Always with the crazy writing. I do have a VCR somewhere around here."
Holly's sudden appearance made me fling my pen across the room. I stared at it longingly, then answered her, "Oh, uh yeah, I-" She peered over the table. I closed the open journal before she saw who I'd been doodling. "I'd just like to be left alon-ne if you don't mind." My heart raced. I'm so stupid. She's going to turn me in.
Holly huffed. "Nobody likes to be left alone. Especially not you, Mike Afton. I mean, 11 ex-lovers? Two of which were men? You seemed to really like that smoker Sasha. I hope she doesn't get cancer." She clasped her hands together, forming a smile on her face that I have learned to be wary of. I rose to my feet.
"Anyway," she continued, "it is majorly not healthy to push people away. I care about you." Her tone of voice did not feel genuine in the slightest- she hadn't practised this little speech. She touched my arm, making me jump.
"Do you really?" I asked. Enough to not turn me in? She nodded.
"Yes, I do. Maybe a little too much, even."
She tried to take my hands, but I shrunk away, shaking my head.
"Too fast," I mumbled. They didn't feel right.
"You're just used to riding in the slow lane." She approached me slowly. "I know you're hurting after so many breakups. Being so cold and alone after going through so much- Aren't you just aching to hold someone new? Feel them? Kiss them?"
I can't deny that. A knot formed in my stomach, and I looked away shamefully. "Yes." She gave me a coy, equally-shameful smile.
"Me too." She moved closer, cornering me. "So give us a chance."
"No," I murmured, but guilt and other feelings overwhelmed me. I should. No. But I have to. I want to. I don't. What is wrong with me? Weeks ago I would have jumped at this chance. Holly stared through me- could she hear my thoughts? She probably could hear my body's disorganised cacophony playing.
"Michael… look at you. You're shaking. You're starving."
The closer she got, the more trapped I was between the couch, the wall, and her body.
"Holly," I breathed into her mouth, "I just don't know if I want this right now-"
"Then push me away, Michael. Stop me."
What could I do when she pressed against me? My thoughts surrounded me, too. I'm crazy. She's getting what she wants. If I don't do this- I don't have a choice- she is so hot on me right now- I'm crazy! My damaged body didn't know how to react either- blood swirling and hardening and leaking in places it shouldn't be.
She kissed me. And I let her. Nearly swooning in old fuzzy feelings, I felt the sticky softness of lips. My breath released slowly, steadily. I smelled bitter skin oils and sweat. My entire frazzled brain seemed to sink in my head. I'm crazy for this. I don't know when my eyelids fluttered shut. Fingers trailed up my back, and the kiss deepened when Holly tilted her head.
I pulled away. She shoved her face back into mine. My knees shook harder than the rest of my body. As I began to sink further away, I didn't notice her hands drifting. She grasped and squeezed down the centre of my pants. The sweltering heat morphed into a violent fever. It was too much. I flinched and gasped with an odd sound. In shock I yanked away, slamming my back into the wall, but it was a delayed reaction.
"Don't touch me like that!" I startled, trying to force an offended tone through my heavy, uneven breath. I thought I was going to faint on the carpet. Holly just laughed at me with that odd laugh.
"It does work."