Hollow Dolls, The by MT Dahl Read Free Book Online Page A

tangled together on couch again, Mel stirred with such a hunger. She kissed
Winnie’s mouth and felt along her sweaty body slowly with her lips to every
place where her tongue could go inside. Winnie was so ready; juicy and wet—Mel
ate her like caviar.
    They
laid together, silent, as one.
    Then
Mel was off on her own. Around her was total darkness. She was in the ocean
treading water up to her chin. Something gripped her ankles and pulled her
under. Teeth bit into her neck. Her lungs filled with blood and from between
the teeth came a voice. “My Killer.” The words brought her back to the couch. Winnie’s
body was on top of hers. She turned to Winnie’s head on her shoulder and saw her
lips were sticky with Mel’s own blood. Mel licked them. “My dark princess,” she
said. Those were Mel’s true blood love’s red lips.
     
    In the morning, Mel woke first. She struggled to get
unstuck from Winnie.
    A tiny groan.
    “Stay,” sounded from Winnie’s throat.
    With the coffee on, Mel pulled out her laptop and
began writing, hoping for a cure to an epic hangover. After a while, Winnie
mumbled something about her bum from across the room. Mel took a few Ritalin
tablets and chugged them back with the last of her bottled water.
    Winnie came over and put her hands on Mel’s
shoulders as she sat typing.
    “We were on the island,” said Winnie.
    “Folded flat,” replied Mel. She was writing about it,
because they’d done what they’d set out to. Now they were ready to begin the
mission. She reached around and felt the bottom of her dark princess. Winnie
could wander off into the lowlands, where the wild girls go. Things would be
better now. Mel watched her red bum cheeks as Winnie went to the counter and
put the kettle on. She cut the tops off three tea bags and poured the leaves
into the French press. Winnie hated tea bags.
    Mel stood and went to her.
    “What happens on the island, the Man-Rabbit’s
mission—it’s ours, only ours.”
    “When do we start to get bad wolves?”
    Mel pointed to the photo on the computer screen.
    “She’s Oksana. Phillip sold her.”
    “Phillip?”
    “A bad wolf,” said Mel. “A target.”
    After Winnie finished her tea she said, “Let’s play Call
Of Duty.” She got up and marched toward the bedroom, her cheeks bouncing and
glanced back at Mel with a smile. “Better get dressed for the kill.”

 
    6
    Being at work was a chore for Mel now. Every day churned by like
anonymous Mickey D’s pink meat cocks coming out of a world grinder. Make any
shape, fry it up—always tastes like chicken. Water in the gas tank. Chug-chug-cough.
Maybe writing the book with Winnie would get their normal happening. Normal was
never on the map though. Mel knew that.
    In Vancouver, up to grade six, it was a random blur of weird. She
and her mother moved so many times that the change of address slots on the back
of the report cards were always full. That was when Marlene was in sales. Girls
clung to Mel as soon as she’d arrive at their school. On separate occasions,
two girls she’d hung with committed suicide when Mel moved on again with
Marlene. Partially, it was about abandonment, Mel being their only friend for a
while. It was the bullying the girls got at school and on the internet. When
Mel was there, they’d have someone to prop them up, have their back even. Mel
could kick ass and if girls hung out with her, people left them alone. It just
happened that way.
    Then Marlene met Peter and they stayed in one place for a while. For
grade eight and the first term at Killarney Secondary in Vancouver, there was
Luba and Lexa and Mel. They skated with boys, smoked weed and didn’t brag about
it. Mel danced street hip hop and made a few videos, with Lexa rapping. In
grade nine, Mel was a target for a few senior girls. She was in karate, they
wanted stripes. She put one girl in the hospital and that was the end of that.
    Luba had dark brown hair she’d  streaked red. Eventually it was