Blood Doll

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 7 (v.1)

Submitted: July 26, 2012

Reads: 97

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Submitted: July 26, 2012



Cool air chilled my bones. In order to ward it away, I curled my knees to my chest. Fabric, rough to the touch, rubbed my flesh and an unfamiliar scent filled my nostrils as I breathed in deeply. Those slight actions spurred small stings to erupt from my stomach and hip.  

My eyes flashed open, but were merely met with darkness. I jumped into a sitting position. Lightly, my fingers inspected bandages that bound my torso. The fresh wounds underneath protested with garbled words.

It was not difficult to recall how my skin had attained these marks. The party remained fresh in my mind and felt nothing like a dream. The handcuffs were still ghosts around my wrists, as were Mason’s hands on my waist. I had fainted on the stage. The events afterward, though, were a mystery. Someone had obviously untied and moved me. Whoever had, and where exactly they had taken me, was left unanswered.

The thought that I had been claimed and bandaged by a stranger settled uneasily in my mind.

Soft yellow spilled under a door, washing a large patch of carpet with light. Silently and with bated breath, I climbed off of the bed. The light touched my bare feet as I tiptoed across the room to the door. Nervousness threaded through my muscles. My heart pounded brutally in my ears.

Even so, I twisted the knob and opened the door.

The apartment was miniscule, sparsely inhabited by furniture. Its five white walls held collages of pictures, tapestries, and posters. Tall wooden bookcases perched together, tightly packing books on their shelves. To my right, a black sheet concealed one large window, and, across the room, a doorway led to pitch nothing. Voices emanated from a box television in the corner. I watched as faces flicked on and off the screen, watched as the light cast shadows around the space.

“You’re up.” Wide eyed, I focused on the words’ source. The man stood before a couch, the edges of his black hair skimming his shoulders. A black button down shirt hung over identically hued pants, and a tiny silver pendant dangled from his neck. Hand held out to me, he took a step around the coffee table.

Despite his apparent welcome, my feet remained planted to the light carpet. Clearing my throat, I asked, “What is going on?”

The man inspected me in confusion, a ghostly smile on his lips. “You fainted at the party, so I brought you home.” His forehead creased as he took in how my fingers grasped the door frame warily. “Do you not remember?”

My breath turned short as his voice became familiar. Clutching my chest, I stared at him in disbelief. His hands had touched my waist. His breath had been warm against my tummy. “Who are you?” The need for confirmation consumed me.

“Are you alright?” He took another step toward me, but halted when I held my hand up.

“What is your name?”

“Mason. Why? Are you okay?” His approach sent me stumbling backward into the dark room. “Eve!”

“Stay away from me! Don’t say my name. Just get back.” A door that had been left ajar bounced off of my back, and I stumbled. Reaching backward, it skimmed my fingers, and I grasped onto the frame. A poster crinkled as I did so.

“I’m trying to help!” His form darkened to a shadow as it passed through the doorway into the room.

“Don’t come near me!”

Mason’s shadowed face shone with exasperated confusion. “What the hell is going on? What kind of drugs are you on?” For a moment, he hesitated. His eyes were narrowed, his arms spread in vexation. Then, attempts renewed, he proceeded forward, reaching for my body.

Quavering, I threw myself into the closet. My fingers clenched the doorknob for dear life; had I been able to see, I was certain my knuckles would have been white. My feet ground into the carpet to brace myself against the door as Mason made to wrench it open.

My resistance against him held fast. Though he yanked on the door mercilessly, I was able to forestall him, and eventually his efforts seized.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed. The door rattled, forcing me to recoil into hanging clothes. “God damn!” Silence reigned momentarily before the door’s lock snicked! Through the wood, a sigh was heard, then footsteps as Mason walked away. “What have I gotten myself into?” he demanded.

Only my heavy breathing pierced the silence. For a short time, I was merely able to press against the clothes, feel my heart throbbing inside of my veins, and strain to catch exactly what was happening on the reverse of the door. Despite that I knew Mason had locked me inside, I minutely jiggled the knob.

The door remained impassive, as did the events outside of the closet.

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