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Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Dead Face Girl, part 7 and 8


I woke up in the morning and almost forgot. It was a Saturday, so I didn’t have to go to school, but I always get up early anyway. I trudged into the bathroom and started to brush my teeth. I almost didn’t notice it. I was just about to leave, but then I looked up. Then I saw my reflection in the huge mirror that stood above my sink.

I was blond.

And it didn’t change a thing.


Julie frowned. “Well, there’s not point in taking you now.” She said in dis-gust. “Apparently being blond doesn’t help.”

I considered saying something snarky, but I was desperately hanging onto my cover that I didn’t care, so I said, “I knew that it wouldn’t.”

“Yah, well you were right.” She muttered absently. “If anything, it made you worse. Nothing works on you, does it? You just keep on being ugly! What’s wrong with you? You—”

“Just shut up, will you?” I burst out, loosing my temper. Julie just leaned back, as if she was amused, but not surprised. I jumped off of the counter where I had been sitting, and ran to the bathroom. I grabbed the box with a picture of a woman with shining black hair, and set it on the sink.

Julie started to open the door, so I quickly locked it. I walked back over to the sink and stared into the huge mirror for a full minute. Then I ripped open the box, not even bothering to read the instructions. I was sure that I remembered what to do. I striped down to my underwear, and leaned over the sink so my hair was in it. I slowly and carefully started to replicate what Julie had done.

My alarm clock started blowing up next to me. I had rolled half way off the bed during the night, so it was right next to my ear.

Now, most people would say that it’s silly to try and hurt inanimate objects. I disagree. I am a strong believer that everything, even things that are technically not alive, feels at least a low level of pain. I also believe that everything should have to feel at least a little of this pain.

I felt around for the clock, who was currently blasting the over-happy notes of “Marry had a Little Lamb” at my eardrum, and chucked it in what I hoped was not the general direction of my computer. I heard the dull thud of plastic against the wall

But guess what?

The evil thing still didn’t shut up.

At this point, you may fear for my mental safety. Do not be alarmed. This is perfectly normal.

I got up, grabbed the darned thing and tossed it into the hall. I then walked to my desk drawer and took my hammer (don’t ask why I have a hammer in my desk drawer), walked out into the hall, and proceeded to beat the clock mercilessly until it finally stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief and brought the pieces into my bathroom and dumped them into the garbage.

As I walked away, I happened to look up at the mirror.

My eyes widened, and for a second, I was incapable of saying anything, but when something did come out, it was a bloodcurdling scream.

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