Death's Exception

Chapter Eleven

My dress is long. My bare feet feel the hem of the fabric dance across them. The whole dress is white satin with lace creeping down the neckline, just below my waist where it sprouts into gold lace roses. The neckline is straight, and right under my color bone, the lace sleeves stopping mid-arm. I let a girl I have never met before yank and wrestle with my hair, taming it the way I never could. She braids my black curls around my head, and miraculously, it stays up in a ring, with only a couple strands falling out into my face. She sticks in three golden leaves, and steps back; satisfied. I smile awkwardly as a hoard of non-scientists gather around me and stare. The scar on my face, my crooked nose, and thin lips is the only thing that still ties me to ugliness. I shift uncomfortably as a young man with bright pink hair steps towards me and analyzes my face. He mumbles something to himself as he traces the scar on my face with his middle finger, taps my nose with his thumbs, and grazes my lips with his whole hand.

"Yes, they'll need to be altered," Three non-scientists nod, and go to a computer where they start hacking away on a photo of me. They drag my nose to become more centered, smooth out my scar, and plump up my lips. I look more beautiful on that computer screen than I do standing here. They drag the altered photo on top of a regular photo of me, and click the words "recognize and alter".

"Get her onto the stage." On of them orders. I am pushed onto a stage in front of a

camera, and see myself on a monitor behind it. Except it isn't me. It is the beautiful version of me.

"Excellent." Dr. Finley's voice echoes throughout the room. He smiles hugely at me. He is dressed up in a white suit with a black bow-tie. His thick gray hair is slicked back, and his face is smeared with pastes that make him look less wrinkled. Every non-scientist in the room stops and turns to him.

"You are all excused." Without a word, they all file out of the room. The last thing I want is to be in the same room with him. The last thing I would ever want is to smell his vile perfume mix with my own. He steps closer to me, and with his thumb he traces my scar, and then pulls closer and kisses my forehead. I snap backwards and sneer. "Is it a crime to recognize the beauty of my handy-work?"

"Yet you will these people to come in and make sure she is photoshopped before the world." He is so close to me I hear his rattling breath as he laughs.

"Everyone is doing it these days." My lips curl in anger as he dares to stand yet closer to me. "You do not know how- grateful-" He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, "I am that you agreed to cooperate with me." I step back.

"Don't make me regret it." I spit. I turn and walk out of the door. Walking aimlessly through the bustling hallways. At exactly 11:42 I am to be back in the broadcasting room where I am to stand and look pretty whilst the world stares at me in wonder. I could say that I am walking aimlessly, but I end up at Titus' office door. I end up in the place I probably shouldn't be right now. I wonder what book, or math problem, or science hypothesis he is burying his head in. I wonder what he is doing to keep his mind off of me, and my girlish betrayal. I knock on the door, but it swings open. His office is still as messy as ever, except I don't see him in here.

"I did not say that you could enter." My head keels backwards to see him sitting on the highest bookshelf, peeking over a huge book about rock formations.

"Neither did you say that I could not." He sneers, and brings his head deeper into his book. I scale the ladder, and jump over him, and look over his shoulder at the book. He

leans away from me.

"You really shouldn't be jumping around in that dress. It costed $111.05." He looks over at me, his brown eyes shining with a subtle, but clear amount of amusement.

"That is specific."

"I had a say in what you got to wear." I laugh, and nudge his shoulder with mine. He gives up, and throws the book down.

"Nice choice," I shift my weight, "How does it look?" We meet eye contact for 3.3 seconds, but our eyes flash away from each other. His face glows red, and suddenly the fact that his shoulder is touching mine is the only thing that I can think about.

"It looked better on the manakin." He smiles to himself, obviously not able to keep a straight face.

"Did it, now?" I pout playfully. For a second he studies my face to make sure that I am not genuinely upset. I smile to assure him.

"It is 11:40." He says, and jumps off of the bookshelf a good twenty feet to the ground. "Come on." He urges, holding out his arms.

"You think you are going to catch me?"

"You think I am going to let you fall?" I sigh, and jump down. The fabric in my dress billows around me, until I feel his strong arms under my back and legs. "Told you." I stick out my tongue, and let myself roll out of his arms.

"You are going to be late."

"Better run, then."

"Haha, no." I stick my lip out, and cross my arms.

"I am going to do it." He raises his eyebrows, trying to look annoyed.

"No you are not." I grab his hand, and try to drag him out the door. Finally he gives in, and starts to run with me to the broadcasting room. We burst through the door, and suddenly it is hard to breath. It is often that my lungs fail me. But this time, my nerves are attacking my lungs. Reporters are staring at me. Some eyes full of terror, some of awe, and some of anger. I open my mouth to object the arms that are pulling me away from Titus towards the camera, but my words fail me as a reporter shoves a microphone is my face and starts to bombard me with questions. And then the rest follow. Snapping pictures, yelling my name, and tugging on my clothes. I am scared. I am terrified. I trip over an arm that reaches for me, and almost fall. Titus yells, and I stumble over my dress. My vision blurs as I hit the ground. They are closing around me, touching me, taking images of me, and urging me to speak. I gasp as a nurse picks me up and shoves me in front of the camera.

"AND WE'RE ON."