Doll Face by Sadie Grubor, V. Fiorello

Most kids don’t grow up wanting a dead beat dad. Those kids don’t understand how much worse it can truly be. How it feels to grow up wishing your father was a neglectful dead beat and not a living nightmare.

I did. I do. And my safest place is to hide among the monsters. So, that’s what I do. I blend into a sea of criminals and the depraved. Any of them are far better company than my father.

That’s how I ended up here, applying too much makeup and too little clothing. Tonight’s show has to be enough to entice, yet subdued enough not to draw too much attention. Getting noticed not only puts you in the position of private dance rooms, but also makes them curious. They want to see you, all of you, and for even a brief moment possess you.

Even if it’s all a part of the game, their night of fantasy, it’s still too risky. For two years, I’ve held the delicate balancing act. The occasional businessman, random bachelor, and even the rare everyday good guy, but never a regular client or patron as many of the other girls have. Sure, the money, gifts, and, hell, even the attention and pampering are more tempting than the drugs readily available in this place. Yet, the fear of being discovered, again, tampers the temptations and desires for more.

It’s been over two years I’ve stayed safe, over two years of keeping the balance, over two years of being someone else and living their life.

Then he walks through the dark red lacquered doors of my hiding place. His eyes searching, probing, and knowing. He sees through my fabrications, but his own secrets silence his curiosity. Buried beneath the corded muscle and smooth tan skin lies a darkness I know too well. It’s terrifying and seductive.

Now, this temptation swirls on the tip of my tongue, teasing my taste buds, making me want to confess all my sins to a man who could punish me and free me in the most wonderfully worst ways.