Stay(84)

The front door flew open before Zane knocked. A tall man with silver hair stood in the threshold. He was wearing a white cardigan over a pale blue button up shirt that was tucked into mud-colored dress pants. He let his eyes run up and down my body before settling on my face.

“My, my,” he said. His voice was high pitched and raspy. “This one has nice skin. Hasn’t seen a lick of sunlight.” He reached out to touch me. Zane yanked me back.

“Pay up,” he ordered.

The silver haired man licked his lips. “Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. He turned around and quickly paced into the house. He came back with his wallet. “Cash only, right?” He asked and Zane nodded. I watched him slowly count out the money. My fear increased every time he added another fifty to the stack. He was paying for a long time.

“No refunds,” Zane said with a smirk and shoved me forward like he always did. I was ready for it and didn’t so much as lose my balance. I hoped it pissed him off. The door slammed behind me. I gulped in air, feeling like I was suffocating.

“Come in, come in,” the silver haired man said, like I had a choice. I was standing on a small section of white linoleum that gave way to the carpeted living room. A flower-printed couch complete with pink lace doilies covering the arms. A teddy bear with a large pale pink bow sat in the center of the couch. A hand painted picture of a white rabbit with a butterfly on its nose hung over the couch.

“I’m Jeremy,” the silver haired man said.

I looked at him. Clients never introduced themselves. The few times I had been told names was when they wanted me to call it out during sex. Jeremy held out his hand. I stared at it for a few seconds before reaching out and taking it. He led me through the living room and down a hall. Every bedroom and bathroom door was open. Except for one.

His fingers tightened with excitement, hurting my hand. He pulled a key from his sweater pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. My eyes widened in horror as my breath escaped my lungs. I locked my knees, not wanting to go into the room.

Jeremy let me go and clasped his hands together, smiling broadly. “Come on in, my dear. It’s time for tea!”





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO





MY HEAD SHOOK, and I put my hands on my elbows, pressing my arms into my stomach. A hundred glass eyes glared at me. My lip quivered as I looked over the shelves of porcelain dolls. A small table was set up in the middle of the room covered with a white lace tablecloth. A blue and white china tea set was on the center of the table.

Jeremy pranced into the room and put a needle down on a record player. Scratchy crackles gave way to a slow violin. Jeremy picked up a blue satin dress, holding it as if it was sacred.#p#分页标题#e#

“Put this on and then we’ll do your hair and makeup!” he cooed. I still didn’t move. “Come on, be a dear!” he said and waved me in.

I slowly shook my head.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed, and his lips curled over his teeth. “They said you’d play along!” he growled, his Mr. Rogers demeanor gone. I stepped into the room. Jeremy moved with more speed than someone his age should posses and shut the door.

I wanted to scream when I saw him lock it and pocket the key. I was locked in the room with a maniac. Holy shit. I was terrified. I fucking hated porcelain dolls. They creeped me out. He thrust the blue dress at me again. I closed my eyes, causing tears to stream down my cheeks. I just wanted it to be over with.

I took the dress and turned around. I removed my clothes, glaring at Jeremy. My hands trembled with fear, and I struggled with the zipper.

“There you go, my dear,” Jeremy said and moved over. He lifted my hair off my back and pressed it to his nose, loudly inhaling before he slowly pulled up the zipper. “Oh, my! Look at this, Miss Molly!”

I wrapped my arms around myself and looked behind me.

“You match!” he cried with delight and hugged a doll. She too was wearing a blue satin dress with white lace trim. Terror caused my arms and legs to lock up as I watched the psychopath cuddle the doll.

“Come sit and get your hair done,” he said to me and waved at a white vanity table next to a window. He set the doll down, fussing with the bow in her hair, and opened the top drawer of the vanity. My lungs expanded and I sucked in air, yet I felt like I couldn’t breath. What exactly did this creep plan on doing with me?

I sat on a velvet-lined stool and eyed Miss Molly. One of her fake eyelids was stuck halfway closed. Her hair wasn’t perfectly neat like the other dolls. Her brown curls were shiny, but not as shiny as the plastic hair most dolls had. And then I noticed the split ends.