Mannequin kind
The day was just another day. It was November 13th, 1998. I woke in a cold sweat, the nightmares had come back. “6:45AM.” I sighed and fell back into bed. I was sick and tired of the constant schedule God had made to keep me from sleeping.
“Again, Maggie?”
The blankets shifted to show Kara, in her favorite pink tank top. Her eyes were wide open, and as beautiful as ever. The spirit in her eyes told me she had been awake for some time now.
“I’m sick and tired of this shit!” I said angrily, slamming a fist into the bed.
She said nothing, and instead panned her head and looked at me, giving me a sincere look. The same look she gave me behind the school playground in 7th grade. The same look she knew I’d fall for, as I always did, and hell, I certainly wasn’t going to stop now. Not today. Not ever.
“…I’m sorry Kara; I think I’m not suit for another week with that bloke!”
“Calm down, Mag’s. Stress ain’t gonna help you none.”
Her Accent started to stick out again. I tried not to giggle, but it didn’t help. Her face vanished from her head and was replaced by a blank expression. Her eyes loosened, but her head, limbs, everything else, stayed perfectly still. God, the things she can do with her face. She could tell me to kill a man with that face, without a word.
I got out of bed, took a shower, and started dressing up for work. Kara was generally good at keeping her substances hidden, as she’s been faking her sobriety for a while now, God knows what happens with your brain on drugs. Syringes, at least 3 of them, were scattered next to the sink on the restroom I picked one up and examined it. Seemed empty, but I couldn’t confirm if it was clean. I knew she had been under the influence when I’ve come home from work several times, but I at least would like her to make it appear as if she cared about my request. I slid through the door, still steaming from the shower, and held it in front of me, in front of her. My eyes slid toward her awed expression.
“Where’d you get that…?” She whispered. I said nothing.
“Where did ya f-” I interrupted, trying to keep myself from yelling.
“In the bathroom, Kara. How much did you spend to get this shit?”
“I didn-“
“HOW MUCH?!”
Her mouth slid open; tears started flowing down her slick cheeks. I realized I had been yelling at her. Again.
I broke the silence. My voice broken from holding back the anger;
“How much...Kara…How much..?”
Again, she replied; “Where have y’all gotten that..?”
She was lying again. My anger burst out in shall bursts.
“Liar! Thief! Skank!”
I stormed into the restroom, finished putting on my clothes and left the apartment for work. I opened my wallet to a photo labeled “I love you”. The photo was of Kara. Kara as a pilot. Her old job. Putting it away, I realized I didn’t even bring the key. But I didn’t care. Not today. Not ever.
My boss was yelling at me, all day. Said I wasn’t serving customers fast enough. You can’t work if you don’t like what you do. I had more fun eating the ice-cream rather than serving it. But he would yell at me if even so much as licked my lips. The day had passed by like a blur. The only things I could remember were my boss yelling and the fight this morning. I don’t even remember why we were fighting. It was getting hot, so I took my shirt off, and delivered order 109 to table 17. The table was a large group of teens, buying some ice-cream to cool off. The men started cheering and whistling as I gave them there ice-cream.
“Well shit!” I thought to myself, “They must have been really hot!”
Then a bare, flaky hand grabbed my shoulders, I saw my mustached boss, his face redder than ever, drag me into his office. He sat me down, and threw me onto the floor, swiping away the papers on his desk, slamming his two giant hands onto the wood, and yelled at me once more. I figured I’d pay attention this time.
“The HELL do ya think yur’ doin’, this is an ice-cream parlor, not a strip club!”
He threw my shirt at me, and, even though it took me a second to realize, I had no undershirt. I had exposed nearly my entire upper body to teenagers, businessmen, and who-knows-what! I flushed with red and covered my face, to face my tears and cry.
I cried for a long time. What the HELL was I thinking?! Carl finally got up, scoffed, and left the room. I continued to cry. Embarrassed, wondering why I did such a thing! I swaddled on upward, *CRUNCH*
My eyes widened. Did I just step on Carl’s glasses? I looked down, afraid to look. …But what I saw when I looked down, made me wished I hadn’t started the day. Hadn’t gotten my job taken away due to an honest mistake. Hadn’t done any of this shit. Because what I had stepped on had explained everything, but ruined it all at once.
It was a syringe.
The same one I had picked up this morning. The same one I had shown to Kara. I had carried somewhere in my clothes All day. And worse yet, I knew it had stabbed me. I had taken Heroine. I panicked, not knowing what to think, what do to. I burst through the door, looking over at the customers. Strangely, the boys were still there, and again, begun cheering and whistling. Because I was looking over, I had tripped. I had got up, my vision startled by the sight of the bloody gravel below me. I raced to the car, losing my bra while doing so.
“Shit!! Oooh Shit!”
I ran, covering my exposed from the world with my arm, and raced to the car, what were only a couple feet away at that point, hurdled in, and began scrambling for my jacket. I’ve never experienced hyperventilation before, but at this point, was choking for breaths of fresh air, sometimes coughing up blood in the process.
I raced out of the parking lot, and whirred down the street towards my apartment.
“Hopefully Kara’s home…” I said to myself, as I approached the first block, the first red light.
“Shit!” I cursed under my breath.
I wanted to rush home because I still felt exposed. Naked, for the whole friggin’ world to see! About a minute and a half passed. I slammed on the horn for what must have been 5 seconds straight. I expected more people to honk as well, until I realized they weren’t going anywhere. I looked slowly to the driver next to me. He looked pale. Hollow, almost. I didn’t think this was true, until his head rolled off his shoulders, and onto the ground.
It must have landed on the gas pedal, as his car lurched forward and slammed into the car in front of him.
My eyes bulged. My heart pounding, unsteady like a swinging jazz song you’d here at the mall. Except it was the most terrifying feel in the world. As if it was my heart, me, who had killed him. I wanted to cream, but nothing came out. But something was wrong; no one else had seen the event. I scattered for my purse and ripped out my phone, and dialed 9-1-1, the number that people used to call authorities and hospitals in this country. I had called the police only once, and that was because I had witnessed a robbery when I was eight years old. But this was different. I had witnessed a death—or a possible sick form of murder,
*Boooop . . . . . . Booooooooooop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Booooooooooooooooooooop . . . . . . . . . . . CLICK *
“Yes!” I screamed, a bit too loudly”
In a horribly familiar automated voice, the message said:
“Were sorry, either the police department had either reached its maximum amount of simultaneous calls, and is too busy, or, is unavailable, if you have an emergency, please dia-“
I had hung up. In absolute shock, I had hung up. In complete trance, I had gotten out of the car, and rushed to his door, and started knocking franticly. That’s when it all finally clicked.
He had no neck. His neck was sealed into a cone. There was no blood, and his head lay at his boots, lifeless and unanimated, shining like a coffee table.
His head, and the rest of his body, was a mannequin.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, as I looked over to the next car, I saw the same- a mannequin. I screamed for even longer.
“This has to be a dream. It’s only a dream,”
No matter how many times I told myself, I couldn’t make it true. I couldn’t wake up! I felt as if I was asleep, but I’m guessing that’s a side effect of heroine. Every passenger, every pedestrian, every man, woman, infant, all mannequin’s. It was breathtakingly horrifying. I was running as fast as I could, running away from something, anything. I knew it wouldn’t help. No ones that stupid. But I kept on running anyway. I finally had made it back, running away from what seemed like a dream. I rushed past the front desk, which were also constructed and organized by mannequins, and slammed my fist into the elevator button. To the right of the elevator, was a small little boy. He was still dressed up in his pajamas, what were themed after Superman.
Though he was lifeless, his mannequin had hardened into a running position, fist up in the air, and a big smile on his face. Creepy though it was, it was also the most beautiful thing I had even seen.
*BING *
The elevator had arrived. I had just about ran it, if it weren’t for a fat couple within the elevator, both shamelessly thinking, of what seemed like how much their lives were worth. Have you ever seen a fat mannequin? Well trust me, you don’t want to. It’s not pretty. I decided to take the stairs.
I was scared I would faint, from all the energy I would exhaust from climbing while in this state. My courage came through, and I rushed up 18 flights of stairs. When I finally made it, I slammed open the door, into the lightly lit hotel. “Room B81.” I told myself. “Room B81”
I ran down the hallway, my legs giving in, and pulled out my wallet from my purse. I flipped and searched, where I placed my room key was replaced with only wads of cash, and a picture of a mannequin dressed as a pilot.
I began to panic.
“Kara!” I cried, slamming on the door, fearing the inevitable. “Kara PLEASE!!’’
No answer. I slammed the door harder, with less of a knock, and more of a bang, as my legs finally gave in, I feel to the floor.
“KARA” I Sat there, crying, looking down at the floor. A sparkle caught my eye. A reflection of hope.
Under the door, was a corner of a plastic plate. I snatched it, and to my cries and plea’s, there it was.
The Keycard to Room B81. She must have left it there for me this morning. My eyes filled with tears.
“…Oh Kara…thank you.”
With hesitant patience, I slid the card threw the register, and heard the daily *Krrg * of our room unlocking.
I slowly opened the door, afraid of what I might see.
And then I saw it.
Was it real? Was it fake? Was it a dream? Is this an illusion….or not?
I ran toward her, not making a sound, tears running down my eyes, I brushed her hair with my nails, and looked into her lifeless blue eyes. They were no longer beautiful, no longer black holes of light that they have been, for 7 years. But I knew it was her. It had to be her.
“Kara…” I whispered
“…God knows what happens with your brain on drugs.”
With that, I picked her up, stiff as a carrot, and tucked her in bed. I crawled in with her, and hugged her tight as I could. I cried myself to sleep, and didn’t sleep for long. Nightmare after nightmare. After today, I knew it wasn’t avoidable. Again, I woke in a cold sweat. 6:46AM.
“Again, Maggie?”
I looked over to the mannequin, only to see it replaced by a pair of beautiful sea blue eyes.
She tilted her head once more, and I grappled her neck, pulled her face to mine, and started kissing her. I had never been more in love in my entire life.
~End