“You did an excellent job, Doctor,” said the dwarf. “She’s perfect.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
My eyes returned to the larger man. Pride had softened his severe face a little and I felt my heart skip a
beat at the sight of his gentle grey eyes, the way they were trained on me. I felt an instant connection with
the man.
I’d never believed in love at first sight until now. But yes, I loved him. He was all to me.
“Dr. Von Holtz, you’ve finally done it,” the little man said with admiration. “You’ve created life!”
I tried to say something, to ask questions, but a wave of fatigue overwhelmed and I slipped back into
absolute darkness.
***
Read an excerpt from The Dollhouse Society: Isabelle by Eden Myles:
“Izzy Pop, you still looking for part time work on the weekend?” my best friend Stefan Janovich asked,
stopping me in the hallway of my dorm by putting his hand on my arm. I looked at it and he quickly yanked
it away.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He knew how little I liked being touched by anybody, even my gay best guy
friend. He ran his hand nervously through his tousled yet stylishly spiked blond hair and grinned, saying,
“You said something the other day…”
“Yeah,” I interrupted. “I did. And yeah, I’m still interested.” I smiled to try and make up for reacting so
badly, but it felt fakey. I’d never been a very good liar. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Stefan; touching just set
me off, no matter who was doing it. When I went to concerts with my friends, I avoided the mosh pits like
the plague. “What do you have for me?”
He handed me a scrap of paper torn from his notebook. “It’s a housecleaning position. I mean, not
glamorous or anything, but it pays really well, and I know…you know, you can use the cash.”
I gaped as I threaded my way around the students in the corridor, Stefan tagging after. “This is a pretty
exclusive neighborhood, Stef.”
“Yeah, well, the guy’s pretty exclusive.” He gestured up and down his handsome face with a hand as we
walked toward my dorm room. “Dr. Michaels is the surgeon who fixed my face pro bono back when.”
“Oh,” I said, catching on. “Yeah, I think I remember him.”
I had vague memories of a tall, cold-faced doctor swiftly passing me in the halls when I was going to visit
Stefan in the hospital.
Stef and I had grown up together, but when he was thirteen, he and his mom were in a terrible car crash.
They both made it, thankfully, but the windshield shattered and Stefan’s face was cut up pretty badly. It
took seven surgeries by Dr. Dorian Michaels, the top plastic surgeon in the city, to restore his natural
good looks, but despite all the pain and recovery time, Stefan had been a real trooper through it all.
“I remember you said you couldn’t stop fantasying about him.”
He grinned at that. “He’s pretty hot. But I think he’s a little out of my league.”
“Too old. Too rich,” I guessed.
Stefan laughed. We were both so poor!
“He gay?”
“I wouldn’t send you to him if he wasn’t,” he said.
“You just want me to fix you up.”
He laughed again. “Maybe.”
“Aww, poor Stef, always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” I said as I reached my room. Stefan always
had a lot of boyfriends, but his many relationships never seemed to amount to much, mostly because
Stefan was a notorious wanderer. As soon as he had a great guy, he started finding flaws and looking for
greener pastures.
“I’m just picky.”
“Uh-huh.” I keyed open my door and turned. “Wanna hang? I have double fudge ice cream and The
Scarlet Pimpernel from Redbox.” The Scarlet Pimpernel was Stefan’s favorite movie. He had a massive
crush on Leslie Howard.
Stefan sort of hmmed and hawed, and I quickly got the feeling he had something hot and well-muscled
planned for tonight. Still, I knew he didn’t want to leave me alone. I’d been there for him all through his
recovery. He wanted to be here now for mine.
Get it together, Iz!
I knew I had to find a way to let him off the hook. I’d decided some time ago I didn’t want to be one of
those clingy people who’s afraid to be alone. “On second thought, maybe I’ll turn in early. I had to cram
half the night for that killer History exam today.” I made a show of yawning.
“I can stay,” he said but I held up a hand to stop him.
“Nah. Gonna shower and turn in.”
He put his hand on the door. “You sure, Izzy Pop?”
“Absolutely!” I beamed a smile for him.
After we said our goodbyes, and I promised to meet him in the student cafeteria for breakfast tomorrow
morning, I closed and locked the door, then slid the three latches into place that I’d installed a few months
ago. After that, I dropped my books on my desk and went to shower, leaving the bathroom door wide open
so I could hear if anyone was trying to get in.
As I was stepping out of the shower stall, I heard a dull rustling noise at the door. I bundled a big
terrycloth towel around my middle and crept out of the bathroom, stopping only to grab up a pair of very
sharp scissors from off my desk. I stood very still, barely breathing, dripping water all over the floor.
Yeah, someone was definitely lurking at my door. I could see a shadow as they toyed with the doorknob.
Then more rustling as the unknown person slid a sheet of paper under my door.
I stood in the shadows, wet, dark tangles of hair clinging in commas to my cheeks, my heart thudding in
my ears, breathing in and out, in and out, trying not to hyperventilate. I clutched the scissors close,
realizing my hands were shaking.
“Stop it, Iz,” I told myself in a breathy whisper. “Just stop this shit, all right?”
I made myself set the scissors down before padding quietly to the door. The locks were still in place. No
one could breach three deadbolts, I reminded myself.
Whoever had been standing there was gone now. The room was dimly lit, but I could see the scrawled
letters of some funky font announcing a frat party this weekend. The students here were always handing
those out. I closed my eyes and breathed out in relief, then padded back over to my highboy to pull out a
pair of pajamas.
A year ago, this cute ivy league guy from uptown named Clark Bennigan asked me to a rave. It was, sad to
say, my first real date. I’d never been huge on dating in high school—too shy, too clumsy. But that night I
said yes. I’d thought it was time to come out of my shell, to loosen up. I didn’t want to grow old alone
because I was afraid to talk to a cute boy.
Clark picked me up in his Lamborghini and we went driving into the city. The rave was fun and loud and
crazy, and a lot of liquor was flowing. I wasn’t a big drinker, so I’d only stuck to one drink I planned to
nurse for most of the night. I knew better than to get loaded and let someone take advantage of me.