Undead Beauty / Rock 'n Roll Psycho

Chapter 2: Dance, Dance

An electrical charge coursed through my body. Gaining consciousness. Ow. My head is throbbing immensely. I woke up, shaking. Reaching up to touch my face. My hand. It's purple with black stitches. My eyes widened when I studied my hand. No. No, this isn't good. I thought he was going to change me back. That was the deal. For Dr. Fox to make me human again. Why is my skin purple? He poisoned me before I could even ask him about the surgery. Panic in my eyes. Darting from one side of the room to the next. Scanning my surroundings. Laying on an operating table, in a grim scientific lab.

To my left, shelves with glass jars of various body parts sat. One, in particular, looked recent. A male hand with a dead face with a crown tattooed between the thumb and index finger. It floated in the questionable liquid. On my right, laid a corpse under a long stained white sheet. Curious, I sat up. Leaning over; I peeked under.

Oh My God! Clapping my hands over my mouth. Screaming wildly into my hands. Shoving myself away from the old corpse. Pushing myself back harder than expected. I fell over. Crash!

The body! The one under the sheet. It was mine. Was. Now I'm this. What is this? A purple monster. A freak.

Standing up for the first time wasn't easy. I struggled. New legs. New parts in general. I looked tipsy. Glancing down at myself. Undergarments, but no clothes. Holding on to the table, I took baby steps over to the trash can. Where my clothes were stuffed in too. Once I put on my sweater and capris; I quickly crept through the hall. Hoping to find a mirror.

"Uncle, I told you to throw those away," Jamison's voice echoed downstairs.

"Jamie, these are her things," his uncle Ike rebutted, "You already took her brain for your rag doll. Along with her freedom."

My eyes grew wide. Stumbling down the hall. I passed a wide silver framed mirror. I stopped. Glancing over my new face. Lilac skin with black stitches from head to toe. Lavender doll-like eyes. Messy curly hair, the shade of plum, stopping at my shoulders. A small button-like nose and soft wine-colored lips. When I first woke up, I felt alive. More human. Now, with my new reflection, I was heartbroken.

"This was more than I bargained for," I frowned. Turning on my heel. I marched down the hall. Rushing down the stairs, screaming.

"Lair!"

Swinging my fists at him. Without warning, Jamison grabbed me by the throat and lifted me in the air.

"Stupid girl," he scoffed, "I didn't lie." Walking back up the staircase. Keeping his grip around my neck. Back up the stairs, he pushed me. Through the long hall, up another flight of steps, and into a bedroom. Throwing me on the ground. Gritting his teeth, Jamison ordered me, "Change. Your meeting Miss Heart in 45 minutes."

"What?"

"I'm not having my creation skip around in trashy teenage garb. You look like a slob."

"Your creation? What makes you think I'm yours!"

"You had to make friends with zombies. You ended up getting bitten. Not wanting to be among the undead, you came to me. Blindly trusted me. A man on the internet. You never said you wanted to be human. You gave me consent to use your brain. Now, your dumb brain is in my puppet. So yes, that makes you mine," he fumed, "If an apple falls from your tree into my yard that makes it my apple. Brain. Apple. My yard. My puppet. Understand?"

The second he got off his soapbox, Jamison slammed the door.

"Well...fuck," I cursed.

On the bed were clothes laid out for me to change into. An off-white button-down blouse with a ruffled collar, an ocean blue strapless dress, matching thigh highs, and brown ankle boots with peach ribbon. By the pillow was a tan straw tea hat with a ribbon and bow that matched the shoes. Lace white gloves next to the hat. I quietly changed my clothes. After I poked around the room. The dresser and closet were full of outfits and accessories. It was like being trapped in Barbie's dream house. Rolling my eyes, I left my room.