The Broken Doll
How long have you been gone?
When will you come back?
Her lips spread as the light in her hands glint in the dark.
This was the 16th time she checked her phone.
Her eyes fixated. Her long, blonde hair intertwined with her fingers.
This was the night.
The night she thought she wanted.
Her free fingers danced on the light as taps became swipes and swipes became presses.
Kissy faces and tongues were all she seemed to know.
She twirled like a ballerina paying the bills.
She tossed clothes on the bed.
Which do I wear?
Which do I wear?
She shimmered to the bathroom.
Red over pink and pink over red.
Makeup rained on her face like a torrential downpour.
Tonight was the night.
The night she thought she wanted.
His hands slid over the light.
His teeth ripped into the flesh of his bottom lip.
The taste of iron washed his filthy mouth.
Her pictures made him salivate.
Her videos made him tight.
Tonight, he would make everything feel right.
He waltzed into his bathroom.
He moved his sticky fingers through his greasy hair.
He grabbed his car keys on the bathroom counter and walked to his driveway.
The long, black car shined in the moonlight.
He dialed her tone and awaited a reply.
She answered with a shy, "hello," but she only heard breathing on the other side.
He then spoke her name.
Chimes went array in her mind, but this was her night.
This is what she thought she wanted.
She stood in the driveway.
Her dress fluff and plush.
She waited until a black car pulled up.
The windows stayed up, but she still approached.
Inside, she could finally see him.
This. was. him.
She tried to touch the handle, but it was already locked.
They drove back into the night.
In the forest they went. They were gone for some time.
Her back faced the ripped leather as his stench invaded her nostrils.
His smile is gruesome.
His smile is crooked.
Sticky hands swam through her hair.
Sticky hands swam through her dress.
She shook and fought.
But her body gave out.
He pressed his body into her's.
Her eyes became void.
Her body became stiff.
Tears rolled down her face.
Red caked the seats.
He broke her in, he thought.
But that was only half his job.
Phones ring off their hooks.
Used tissues stack towards the ceiling.
Search parties come up empty-handed.
How long have you been gone?
When will you come back?
Where did we go wrong?
She swabs her lips with red lipstick.
But she misses the mark.
She walks in the dark room.
Eyes follow her from every direction.
She dances and twirls like a ballerina paying rent.
But this was for free, at their expense.
It was something about her.
She was different.
She was not the normal droll.
She shook and moved about.
Although she was covered in chains.
She would never fall.
Was she special, or was she just like them all?
No matter the answer.
No matter the call.
This was the life.
The life of the broken doll.