Chapter 13:
"Vincent?" Katrina called as she made her way down a wax hallway, wrinkling her nose at the faces carved into the wall. She yelped as she missed her footing and tumbled down the last few stairs, landing hard on her side.
"Ouch," she moaned, rubbing the side of her head. She looked up to see Vincent standing over her. He shook his head and picked her up into his arms, carrying her into his workshop.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She nodded. "I'm okay. It just hurt worse because I've got a bunch of bruises already." Grinning, she nuzzled into his chest. "I could get used to being carried, you know."
He swallowed hard, wondering whether or not she remembered what had happened between them the night before.
"I'd kiss you, Vincent, but you're wearing that mask," Katrina said, fingering the edges of the wax.
Vincent shook his head and set her down gently. "I don't like it off."
"There's no one else here."
"I don't like you seeing . . ."
She stomped her foot. "I don't like that mask!"
He sighed and slowly peeled it off. She smiled at him and walked over to kiss him deeply.
"Now isn't that much better?" Katrina asked.
He smiled faintly and put the mask back on.
"Fine," she said, crossing her arms. "Be stubborn. Anyway, Bo told me to tell you that we're going into town."
A look of jealousy flashed in his eye that wasn't missed by Katrina.
"You know, if you stop wearing that mask, I'll model my new underwear for you."
The thought of watching her parade in front of him wearing tiny lacy things of the type he had taken off so many victims almost made him consider removing the mask. But he couldn't. Not yet, anyway. It represented the only security he had ever known.
The look on her face softened and she laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Vincent. I shouldn't push you to take it off when you've worn it for so long. Forgive me, and I'll still model my underwear for you."
Vincent sighed in relief and nodded. "She understands . . ." he thought. Aloud he said, "Would you like to see Jessie?"
Katrina clapped her hands together in delight. "I forgot about her! Where is she?"
He reached out and tentatively took her hand to lead her upstairs.
They went into the dining room. Vincent pointed towards the newest wax figure.
Katrina burst into laughter. "Oh. My. God." She turned around and hugged him tightly, raining kisses all over his wax face. "This is hilarious!"
Vincent had made a perfect replica of Jessie's features, right down to the blonde hair and watery blue eyes. She was dressed in the sort of cheap puce green evening gown women wore when they were dirt poor but wanted to look like they had money. She also had on ugly old fashioned plastic pearl beads around her neck and a fake-looking emerald ring on her fat hand. Her other hand was raised as if she were going to stuff her mouth full of an enormous forkful of wax lasagna. Vincent had completed the effect by putting splatters of red sauce on her dress and the sides of her face. He had also turned the other wax figures at the table to look as if they were glancing at her with distaste.
He held onto Katrina for another brief moment before releasing her.
"Bo's killing Vera right now, so you'll have another body to work with in a bit," Katrina remembered. "Where will you put her?"
"I'll show you."
She followed him out of the House of Wax into the town and over to the movie theater.
"I'll put her here. I don't like this beauty queen much," Vincent said, pointing at Miss Ambrose.
Katrina's face fell. "You're going to make her Miss Ambrose?"
He nodded, not noticing the pained look in her eyes. "Yes. Vera is beautiful. Very beautiful. She'll make a better Miss Ambrose." Vincent leaned over and began adjusting the gown on the current Miss Ambrose. "I'll make her one of my finest. Her body is perfect; it will fill out this dress better."
"What do you mean, perfect?" Katrina asked.
Vincent turned to look at her, noting the strange tone to her voice. "I mean . . . her breasts are a good size, and . . . and she isn't too thin, and . . . her face is like . . ." He paused for a moment, trying to remember what Vera's features reminded him of. "Like that picture of Venus rising from the sea. And her hair is like . . . like the color of the sunset." He closed his eye, thinking about the beauty he would create.
Katrina gulped back a sob.
Vincent's eyes flew open. He was shocked to see tears trickling down her cheeks. "Katrina?" he asked.
"I bet you wish it was Vera that was in your arms last night, don't you?" she cried. "That's fine. I'm used to people doing that. You're just another guy that was just using me to get with her!"
Vincent shook his head and took a step towards her, terrified that he had made her hate him. Her rage and pain were apparent in her expression, making him want to pull her into his arms and keep her there forever.
Her hands balled into fists as she screamed at him. "Why don't you go on up to the house, then? Go see if Bo's killed her yet. Go on and fuck her and see if I care!" She shoved Miss Ambrose off her pedestal before turning and running out the door.
Vincent stared down at the cracked remains of his creation, his emotions a tumult. "What have I done?"