Toxic Dolls

Chapter 6

"And this is the dining room. We hold many rowdy feasts here."

He drops the formality, "Not really, I think we only used the table once, maybe?"

He coughs, resuming "the face", soaking me to the next room.

"This is the kitchen, many quality meals of poptarts, pizza and chips are crafted here."

I almost snort in an attempt to control my laughter. The kitchen is magnificent, though. Every appliance is titanium, the walls bright white to match black cabinets and checkered floors.

On to the next room we go. I gasp as we walk into a glassed in room, an jacuzzi built into the center of the floor. Looking out the doors, my eyes widen at the sight of a giant rock walled pool with a waterfall, surrounded by one of the most beautiful gardens I had ever seen.

"This door hear leads to our heated pool and recreational area. Behind that gate," he points outside to a wooden gate way in the back. "is a tennis court and football field."

I stare up at him in awe, "Who takes care of all the flowers?"

Andy rubs his neck, blushing, "I do. Marx is always trying to hire a gardener but I would rather do it myself."

I squease his hand lightly as we continue on.

"This, is the entertainment room. If we don't have it, it will be ordered, delivered, and set up within the day."

I can barely take it in, the massive room contains every arcade game I've ever seen or played.

"Oh. My. God." I whisper, standing with my jaw open. Andy smiles and pulls me along.

"The last room on this floor is the main lounge."

At this point, I shouldn't have been surprised to see a massive leather couch positioned across from an eighty-some inch TV equipped with full surround sound. Game controllers are strewn across the room along with disks and cartridges from every known station. A ping pong table sits folded in a corner.

"W-wow," I stammer.

Andy's chest puffs up as his smiles at me, "Glad you like it!"

Even though I'm in extreme shock, Andy drags me up the stairs. Standing in a half moon hallway, he points from right to left.

"That's the bathroom, closet, Marx' room, spare room, my room, another closet and bathroom."

I look at him, raising an eyebrow. He shrugs in response, leading me to his room. Apon opening the door, I was surprised to see walls completely covered with posters and photos. Bands ranging from Black Veil Brides and Avenged Sevenfold to Motionless in White and Suicide Silence lay on his walls and ceiling. On the back wall is a sliding glass door, leading to a vine covered balcony. I sit on his bed, looking from one thing to the next before flopping back in mental exhaustion.

"Your house is beautiful," I compliment.

Andy blushes as he sits beside me, propping is head on his shoulder. I look up at him, then realize something odd. His sleeve is slowly riding down his forearm. He catches my gaze. His eye widen, body bolting into a sitting position. Andy's face is a wave of conflicting emotions. I sit up about to apologize when he speaks.

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours..." he quietly trails off. I nod slowly, my own fear setting in as he pulls the hem of his sweater over his head and off his arms.

Andy looks at the bedspread, his choppy hair hanging in front of his face.

"I got them when I was sixteen," he begins. "There was this girl, her name was Renè. I loved her but she didn't love me.. c-couldn't love me. One night, I got a call from her mum, she was crying so hard I couldn't understand what she was saying. That's when I her dad took the phone, asking me to come."

Andy presses a hand to his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"When I got there, the police were everywhere. They tried to stop me from going to her room. I never should have gone. I-I shouldn't have looked but I did. I ran up the stairs to her room. Hundreds of cuts lined her arms, the blood soaking into the sheets; sheets that once held beautiful memories.

"I found the note, it had blown under her bed. She wrote it to me, apologizing for never loving me, saying it was best she leave as not to cause me anymore pain."

He looks up at me, eyes dark.

"The police had to drag me out of the room. I apparently fought hard, kicking one in the face. After a few months passed, I got these," his eyes flick to the tribal tattoos starting from his wrist and swirling across his shoulders to the tops of his pecks. "I wanted to know the pain she felt that night. I /needed/ to know."

Minutes of silence pass before I slowly unzip my hoodie, Andy's head looking up from his bare arms. Taking it off slowly, I reveal the red line rainbow of my forearm.

Slowly, Andy reaches out, taken my arm in his hand.

"So that's why you flinched," he said while is thumb ran over the newest -but healing- of them all.

"Last year, my parents and I were coming back from a trip when a tractor-trailer driver fell asleep at the wheel, crushing our car into a guardrail. It wasn't his fault, really, he was just being over worked by the company he drove for. But if it wasn't for the bags on either side of my seat, I'd be in the ground with them. The driver came to see me in the hospital. He gave me a black teddy bear with your emblem stitched on its foot."

I swallow before continuing.

"A month and a half ago, one of my best friends died in almost the same way. He was supposed to come to the show with me."

Hot liquid drips down my cheek. Andy wipes it away high his thumb, his hand staying, cupping my cheek before dropping to my hand.

Slowly, I begin to run my fingers up his arm, following the complex patter of his tattoo. His breaths are shallow and halting as he attempts control. I reach his bicep and his muscles flinch with each inch. My fingers touch his chest and his eye shut. His hand comes up pressing my hand to the smooth skin. Andy's heart thunders against my palm.

"You, Marx, and the artist are the only people who know," he whispers, pain seeped into his voice. Lifting my hand from his chest, he kisses my wrist before laying down.

I folow his actions. Andy's eyes are locked onto mine, and somehow, I find myself falling asleep.