those painted blue eyes

“Coffee for Layla?” 

“Right here,” I answered, reaching forward. The barista started to smile, then stopped, her smile fading and her eyes widening in recognition. 

“You-, you're the girl who’s friend went missing, right?” Wow, no shame whatsoever. 

“Umm, yeah,” I answered, turning away. She continued questioning. 

“Isn't it kinda ironic that she was on her way to get you a gift? For your birthday?” Damn, this lady won’t give up. I rolled my eyes. 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” I answered dryly. People were starting to look now. 

‘Well, I think it’s a little suspicious, if you ask me.” No one did. I gaped. Is she for real?

“I was 10,” I answered bluntly. “If you're suggesting I killed her, I was 10 when I did it.” It was her turn to gape. 

“I- no. That’s not what I was trying to say, I just-” I walked away before she could finish. As I reached the door, a little girl walked in, her small hand tightly gripping her mother’s. She smiled up at me—bright, innocent—and I forced myself to smile back. But then I noticed the doll she clutched in her arms. It was beautiful in a way that felt wrong—delicately crafted, yet unsettlingly lifelike. I felt a chill settle on the back of my neck. Why did the sight of it fill me with such unease? I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen it before, though I couldn’t place where or when. The doll's painted blue eyes seemed to hold an unsettling depth, as if they were more than just paint. The longer I looked, the more it felt as though they were tracking my every move. My pulse quickened, though I couldn't explain why. I tried to shake off the feeling—after all, it was just a child's toy. But as the little girl passed me, I swore I heard a faint whisper, almost like the doll was trying to speak... but that was impossible, wasn't it? I shook my head, too much caffeine, I thought. I walked out to my car, put in drive, and left. Still, every time I blinked, I couldn't get those painted blue eyes out of my head. 

—------------

“Layla!” I turned around at the sound of my name. I was greeted with a room decorated in everything hideously pink. Frilly pink curtains draped over a black window. Light pink walls with white trim.  A small twin bed on an oak frame sat in the corner, with a matching oak dresser opposite of it. A white vanity with a large mirror was next to a door, which was closed and locked with a metal padlock. And in the middle of it all was a girl. She was about my age, with waist length blond hair, half of it pulled back into with a bow. Her skin was slightly tanned, with a pink blush on her cheeks. Her lips were curved up into a smile, her white teeth straight and perfect. She was wearing a baby blue skirt with a white sweater. And her eyes. Her eyes were a perfect sky blue, with specks of gray. Exactly like I remembered. 

“Layla,” she repeated. “I missed you.” I stared. 

“Hannah?” I replied, meekly. She laughed. 

“ Look at you! ‘Hannah?’ Duh! Who else?” She answered. She was still as cocky as ever. I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off. “I saw you today, at the cafe. But you didn’t recognize me, did you?” I shook my head. 

“You’ve been gone for 7 years… how-” She cut me off with a glare. She walked over to a wall, which was covered with missing posters. All the same. She took one of the wall and held it up to her face. Her 10 year old face almost identical to her 17 year old one. The only difference was the sharp angels on her cheekbones and jawline. 

“I still look the same, right? I’m still perfect?” She didn't wait for me to respond. “Of course I am, otherwise I wouldn't be here.” 

“Where is here, Hannah? You’re gone. You’ve been gone.” She looked at me, her blue eyes angry and cold. 

“No, you just never came to play.” Her voice was hard as steel, yet had a childish tone. 

“I-what?” I stuttered. She ignored me. 

“When are you going to come play?” She repeated, in a sing-song voice. She walked over to her vanity and sat down, crossing her long legs. She picked up an ivory brush and started brushing her hair. She was brushing the same strand over and over, in a mechanical fashion. Suddenly, she ripped her bow out of her hair with a ripping sound, causing me to wince with her. She looks at me, her eyes round and glassy. 

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t perfect. Everything has to be perfect.” She Looks at the mirror, blinks, and then back at me, a sad smile curving into her face. “You've had to be more perfect since I left, haven’t you, Layla. Everyone expects you to have the answers, to know where I’ve gone.” She pauses, then continues. “You know, I went to get you a gift. I wanted to get you a doll. A pretty doll for my pretty best friend. I wanted to get one with brown eyes. I always loved your brown eyes.” She blinked her blue eyes. Suddenly, a song ripped through the air. Creepy and melodic. 

In the corner she sits with her porcelain face,

Her eyes are wide open, stuck in their place.

With every brush stroke, she gleams in the light,

Forced to be perfect, day and night.

Her smile never falters, her limbs never bend,

But whispers are stirring, a new guest will send.

"Join us," they echo, "your turn will come soon,

You'll dance with the dolls under the moon."

So stiffly she waits, her patience grown thin,

For the next one to come, to be perfect like them.

Suddenly, Hannah reached forward, gripping my shoulders. For someone so delicate, she was strong. She pulls me close, whispering. 

“I’m sorry, Layla. My time is up. I’m not perfect anymore.” She pulls away, offering me a sad smile. Suddenly, the door with the padlock bursts open. Two figures in white suits wearing ski masks rush forward, one slamming my head into the wall behind. A grating voice whispers in my ear. 

“It's your turn to be perfect, Layla.” 

Breaking News:

A 17 year old girl has just been reported missing. Layla Watkins, the best friend of Hannah Stark, who went missing 7 years ago. Investigators do not believe that two cases are related, but are taking a second look at the Stark case. If you have any information please call your local Crime fighters hotline or text INFO to 180-836-3519