Puffing her lips to apply the cherry red lip stain, Dreah felt confident. It perfectly matched the dress she had been longing to wear. She pressed her lips together and rubbed them to spread the red. As she did so, she heard the faint sound of a pop. It sounded like a gun shot. She shook off the noise thinking it was just in her head; all that was on her mind was the party she was invited to that evening. Marco, the man who is to host the party, invited her personally. They hadn't met until hours before and all she knew of him was his name and that they had a six year age difference. The high school student with the bright future was about to have the time of her life tonight.

It was ten at night and the teen tip-toed down the stairs hoping her parents were not to hear. The living room, close to the front entrance, was where they were sleeping. They had high-paying and very stressful jobs. Not a creak or whisper could awake them from their slumber, so Dreah had nothing to worry about. As she was half-way through the passage of freedom, she smiled and slowly closed the door.

The cab she had called for pulled infront of a house. She stepped out and stared up in awe. She shut the door, payed the driver, and walked slowly to the abode as if she was entering heaven. Before entering the house, she brushed off her dress and tweaked her hair. She took a deep breath and entered the party. The house vibrated from the base of the violent music. The stench of alcohol and smoke filled her nosed and it was overbearing, she had never been exposed of such a smell. This and the pounding music made her uneasy and nauseous. Having enough, Dreah inched her way to find an open space; a place to breathe. But every time she moved, she'd either get shoved or stepped on. Finally, she was able to squeeze her way out. Everywhere she looked there were people; all of them seemed to be above her years. Her eyes started to tear. "Why am I here?" she thought staring at the ceiling as if expecting an answer. She spotted a chair and hobbled towards it. Suddenly, from her peripherals, she noticed a man staring at her. It was Marco! He stood out from the crowd. He waved his head for them to meet on the side. Soon enough, they were face to face.

"You look beautiful," he said in a raised, slick voice.

Blushing, she mouthed, "Thank you."

"You know, this is my house. Wanna see my collection?"

Dreah nodded her head and followed him.

They entered a room, furnished with nothing but a doll house. A miniature house that looked like the very house they were in at the moment. Dreah glanced at him quickly with a strange look thinking that he couldn't be serious. But when she looked at him, he stood there and stared at it with pride. She hunched over to peer inside the mini building that had no furnishings or anything except blank faces and numbers painted on the walls. As she was glancing at the house, Marco pulled out a chest from the closet and grabbed a key from his pocket. He opened the chest and revealed his collection of little dolls. Dolls of men, women, and children were inside. What was extra unusual was that none of them had a face. Dreah turned to look at Marco with the same expression as before, but once again he stood and admired his collection.

"Would you care to see their town?" Marco asked her in a hopeful voice.

"Sure..." she was able to say in a freaked and bored tone.

They exited the room. Marco led the way guiding Dreah through the rowdy crowd with a loose grip around her wrist. She held her breath trying to adjust to the awful stench once again. Somewhat relieved, they reached another room. This one was the same as the first, except instead of a doll house, there was a table that held a tiny town. It appeared to be similar as their town, but smaller. Dreah kept giving him the same look of confusion and disbelief, but he kept giving her the same response.

"Im... Gonna use the restroom," Dreah announced while slowly backing up. She really didn't need to, she just used it as an excuse to get out of that awkward space and predicament. She once again had to hold her breath until she met the door that would relieve here from the chaos and madness in the house. She glanced at herself in the mirror and burst into laughter in disbelief of her "Dream Guy."

"Get yourself together Dre. You're gonna go home and pretend that it never happened," she pep talked herself while throwing in a few slaps to the face. She leaped around and shook her hands as if there were water on them. She looked as if she was entering a boxing match. As she was doing this she heard a few popping sounds. She ignored them because she thought that someone just busted out the champagne. "Once you get out there, book it to the door." She took a deep breath and opened the door. But once she saw what was on the other side, her face dropped and her eyes widened.

Nothing was there. Not only the people, but the furniture and odor. "Oh my lord," she murmmured to herself. She searched the whole house and found nothing. She struggled upstairs, out of breath from the anxiety. Dreah reached the living room and halted. She saw a room full of faces, familiar faces. The faces of the people from the party and faces she hadn't seen before. Next to them were the dates. A couple read, "1981-2011." Some were the same but with different starting dates and some with different ending dates. They were all fairly close. She gasped, suddenly realizing that those were the years they lived and passed. She cried and brushed her fingertips along the walls to touch the faces of the fallen. Her mind was numb at this point.

Dreah continued to do this until she reached a certain point. Her body was completely still and stared at a single face; hers. The date next to it read, "1995- ." She was not dead yet.
"You look beautiful," a slick voice from behind said. She turned and found Marco leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.

"Marco, wher-where is everyone? Where am I? What ha-happened" Dreah questioned, stuttering with fear.


"Sh..shh.. shh," he replied while waving his finger and gesturing to calm down. "What does it matter? It's just you and me. That's all that matters." He smirked and chuckled. "Here, let's get outta here. We'll get ice cream."

The two wandered through the town which was oddly silent. There wasn't a smell, breeze, or noise felt or heard. Thinking of it made her shiver. They entered a park and stopped at an ice cream stand. "Here's some money. Wait here in line and I'll go chat with my friend over there. I haven't seen him in ages. Hey Johnny! Wait up!" He hollered while making a slow jog over there. Dreah waited and waited, tapping her foot in impatience. Half an hour later, the first person in line finally was done. She let out a sigh of relief, but the boy infront of her would not budge. Fed up, she finally tapped the boy on the shoulder for him to scoot up. He turned back and Dreah leaped back in fear. He didn't have a face.

"Ne-nevermind," she yelped in a hoarse voice. She stared wide eyed and sprinted away. "Help! Help!" Dreah screamed desperately and continuously in the air. No one responded, no one even turned a shoulder. Feeling hopeless, she plopped onto a park bench and bursted into tears. She buried her face in her hands. She was alone for hours.

"Hey come on now, chin up! You're beautiful," a familiar voice said to the left of her. Dreah didn't move a muscle. Marco leaned back and put one leg on the other. "Wouldn't it be nice to live like this forever?" he asked. She remained motionless. He nudged her. "Answer me," he said jokingly. She did not respond. "Answer me!" he said once again, but as an order and in a cold raised tone. He quickly got to his feet then got on one knee presenting a ring. "Marry me? We will be together forever," he said hopefully. She removed herself from the position and slapped him and buried herself once again in her hands. He shook off the pain, wiped his face, and got back on his feet. "Fine! We're going to be together forever whether you like it or not!" He bent over so his mouth was near her ear. "If you were wondering, everyone I kill belongs to me." The last thing she heard was a pop. Like a gun shot.


Puffing her lips to apply the cherry red lip stain, Dreah felt confident. It perfectly matched her dress she had been longing to wear. She pressed her lips together and rubbed them to spread the red. As she did so, she heard the faint sound of a pop. It sounded like a gun shot. She dropped the stain and immediately got up and entered her closet. She came out in pajamas and climbed into bed, and dosed off.

The next morning, Dreah pranced down the stairs into the kitchen in an unusual joyous mood. "Morning mom and dad!" She danced to kiss her father on the cheek. When she pulled away her father turned to face her. Dreah leaped back in fear and cupped her mouth with her hands. He didn't have a face. Then a slick voice from behind whispered, "You look beautiful."