Plaything

Short Story by Ava Galbraith

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Normally frizzed waves were pulled tightly into a polished up-do. Tabitha’s wooden comb pulled through Julie’s loose, styled curls. Needles kept strands from moving; pin-pricks throbbed along Julie’s scalp. A haze of hairspray haloed Julie’s crown, small tears pooled along her lower lids. Glistening periwinkle glass eyes stared back at Tabatha’s joyful rosy face. 

A light sheen of sweat blanketed distinct goosebumps mingling with thin dried streaks of blood along Julie’s nape. Tabitha’s hands had gotten steadier with each curl.

“There, there pretty girl.” Soft coos brushed Julie’s ears; ringing drowned out any comprehension of words. “Prettiest girl for the prettiest performance.”  

Shallow breaths matched her sprinting heartbeat. Julie’s gaze darted around the boxy room. A small trunk with dazzling tulles and silks haphazardly piled on top of stiff lacy corsets sat cartoonishly in one corner. Snag-striped pale pink tights heaped next to washed-out black leotards; too many costume changes, too many untailored clothes forced on Julie’s less-than-lithe body. Perfection was a hardship; stretch lines and an odd freckle were constantly fussed over by prodding manicured fingers.

Tabitha ran her hand along Julie’s jaw. A cupped palm straightened her head, Julie’s view forced frontwards. Smile lines curved upwards into an admiring grin and Tabitha patted Julie’s head. Pins shifted; slightly parted rogue lips wobbled. Small crystal drops dripped from stiff, black lashes, flowed smoothly over blush-caked cheek bones, tracing Cupid's bow; salt lingered on Julie’s dried tongue.

“No, no, tears ruin my masterpiece.” Tabitha’s leathered thumb scrubbed at the water marks. Nails etching into Julie’s skin mixing tan powder and red hues; another blemish that would need covering. “Now look at what you’ve done.”