A Doll is perfection, submission and a companion for life...


1. Chapter 1


‘Elizabeth Felipe Margeret de la M-’ She paused suddenly, a finger astutely placed on her lip.

‘Elizabeth Felipe Margeret de la Mmm… Mmm... Muerte?’ She sat back, the pen in her hand now dangling idly from her mouth as she stared at the untidy scrawl on the piece of paper.

‘Hold on…’ She mumbled to herself as she frustratingly tucked in her loose strands of hair behind her ears. ‘Muerte? Death? I’m seriously becoming deranged…’

She slunk back in her chair and let out an exasperated groan. Who was Mia kidding? She was lousy at writing. She hardly could think of a decent name for her main character let alone attempt writing a short story.

She snatched up the piece of paper and crumpled in her fist, a look of furious determination etched on her face as she flung it irritably at the bin in her room.

This course on creative writing was already doing her head in. She had eagerly sat up in her chair like a Meerkat on the lookout when her writing co-ordinator had announced that they were to write a periodical-based short story. Instantly, she though Spanish Civil War, love story, ends in betrayal. But now she was staring at a blank piece of lined paper, pen poised in hand, and nothing was coming to her.

Mia checked her watch out of habit; 8.30pm; and sighed as she walked out of her room to the shared kitchen in her household.

She paused for a moment, listening out for any welcoming sounds from her roommates coming back home and harrumphed as she entered the kitchen. Sounded like all three of them were out with their boyfriends, and Mia, being the only single girl, was of course left behind to wallow in boredom.

Well it really didn’t go like that, her flatmates usually invited her to tag along, but Mia cordially refused since she knew how awkward it would become sitting amongst a tirade of happy couples. But it wasn’t like Mia didn’t like happy couples, or didn’t want to be in one herself, it was just that when either of her flatmates got slightly tipsy, they would immediately begin indulging in a half an hour snogging session with their boyfriends which would ultimately lead to a very noisy night when they would come back making Mia sleep with her iPod on full blast and a pillow over her head. So maybe she did resent them a little, but she wasn’t particularly going to do anything about it. Number one, she loved the flat she was staying in, and the rent wasn’t too expensive, and number two, her flatmates were a rather nice bunch and three, she really did not want another boyfriend just to join with the outings. Especially because all her past boyfriends thought her pants were far more interesting than her personality.

She wrinkled her nose at the thought as she went towards the fridge and pulled out a can of Fanta. Way to go Mia! She thought sardonically as she pulled the ring up to let an injection of orange scented water to spray vertically in the air. Soft drinks whilst her wisdom tooth was crowning was really a smart idea. Grumpily she sipped the crisp and cold carbonated drink.

‘Bleargh!’ She said out loud as she wiped her mouth with her arm. ‘Bloody thing tastes gross…’

Now even grumpier due to losing her beloved Fanta down the sink’s throat, and having the rather disgusting aftertaste of onions gone off sticking to the sides of her mouth, Mia decided to retire back to her room, a scowl deepening on her lips.

That goddamn story… Thought Mia as she eyed the writing pad illuminated by the small halogen lamp on her equally as small desk. My Fantaaaaaa… She thought with a sad pout she sat down on her bed and lay back, staring at her ceiling. She felt something poke her underneath her butt and shifted to pull up the day’s Metro into her lap. The front article had something to do with politics- like that really interested her anyway- every politician was the same. Selfish, lying, money hungry bastards. Like hell they really cared about the people who struggled in day to day life. They declare war, deny it, embezzle government funds (and they thought no one would find out- well ha-ha to them) and of course, they are just lying bastards.

She sat up and turned over the page, a continuation of the same political crap as usual, but as she flicked through the pages, her eyes caught on a small box: ‘Fourth girl gone missing as trafficking gang take over London.’

Mia frowned slightly. It was a mystery why this was not a main article. Maybe because the whole political hoo-ha that had been going on over the past couple of weeks had overshadowed the article, but the small text sent a pang worry to flood through her.

She lived in London. Dead Central of it too. Only five minutes’ walk from Goodge Street station, and a ten minute walk to Oxford Street. She loved it. But the fact there had been abductions in and around the five mile radius of where she lived caused her stomach to clench.

All her creative writing classes ended at nine o’ clock, and she would take the tube to get back home from King’s Cross, but she knew the area where her classes took place to be an uneasy one. Mentally, Mia thought to herself that she must at any costs go and get one of those rape alarm thingies that all women carried around. Especially since she walked back alone from the classes.

She peeled off her socks and turned off the halogen lamp on her desk as she lay on her bed. She sighed as she thought of her thoroughly abandoned story and mumbled ‘fuck it’ to herself as within a couple of blinks she drifted off to sleep.

But unfortunately, that didn’t last for long, as at 3am sharp she was disturbed by the racket of one of her roommates and her boyfriend noisily- not to mention drunkenly- stumbling through the front door. Within moments, Mia found enough reason to switch on her iPod to full blast as she heard the not-too-discrete-squawk of her roommates bed, followed by a more human squawk.

Groaning out of anger and deprivation of a rather lovely dream with Johnny Depp, she shoved her head under her pillow, finding that no matter how much she tried to dull down the heated noises from her neighbour, she would never be able to sleep.

And so unfortunately that is what ended up happening.

Luckily enough for Mia, her roommate and her boyfriend both had work early in the morning the next day, and the other two girls seem to have stayed the night over at their significant others allowing Mia to have some beautifully peaceful hours of sleep. Of course London never slept, but even through the noisy  brumming of cars passing by and the occasional honk of a horn, a shout of a distant newspaper salesperson, Mia slept soundly on.

Well until she realised she was going to be late for her creative writing class.

She woke up with a start when it had hit five, the day had gone dark already and from the scenery outside, Mia observed the bitter chill taking hold of many Londoners as many tightened their scarves around their necks. She shot out of bed and flung off her clothes faster than she could have ever done, and in the madness, tripped over the side of her bed with her t-shirt around her head and her breast threatening to pop out her bra.

She swore profusely as she slowed down her pace and flung open her large vertical cupboard to pick out a brown puffy sleeved sweater, a beige woollen skirt and a pair of vintage dark brown leather boots. She tried her best to tame her wavy ebony black hair, but gave up halfway as she daubed a little foundation over her blemishes, a little powder, some cheek tint, and finally a quick stroke of black eyeliner. She managed to get ready in ten minutes flat, and jokingly blew a flirtatious kiss at herself in her mirror before forcing her head into a fluffy woollen hat and her arms in a short beige jacket. After one last quick glance over her room, she picked up her large black leather bag with her course materials, her mobile phone and keys and darted out of the flat to the nearest elevator.

She relaxed slightly as she waited to go 5 floors down, and adjusted her makeup and hair as much as she could in the mirrors in the lifts. The lift lights made her olive skin look pale, her light brown eyes even lighter and brought out the tiny freckles that adorned her petite nose. She wished she had put on some lip balm on her lips, and almost slapped her head when she realised she left it back in her flat.

Caught between the decision of foolishly going back to her flat to retrieve the lip balm or to go to class, Mia groaned as she checked her watch. 5.15pm.

‘Shit!’ She said aloud as she darted out the lift and bumped into a man. ‘Sorry!’ She said apologetically before catching a snatch of his frowned moss green eyes. She had no time to turn and apologise once more as she had hastily pressed the button to be let out of her building and literally flew down the street, her black hair rippling in the breeze.

She had reached her class in record timing, and was half an hour late- which showed slightly in her writing co-ordinator’s forced smile. Nonetheless Mia grinned broadly at him, determined that today she would find some inspiration and the drive to write her periodical story.

‘You are… Mia Starling?’ Said the co-ordinator as he passed by her in the next ten minutes. She nodded, looking up from the pack of course materials she was reading. ‘How’s the story going?’

Mia went slightly pink and stuttered which caused her to go even more pink.

‘I er… erm… Am… Am… Getting there?’

He shot her a serene smile with an all-knowing hue to it.

‘Ah, the infamous writer’s block. You’ll get there. It’s tough writing something creative after a large break from education. I felt that way before I started doing a course similar to this one.’

‘Well, it has only been three years…’ Mumbled Mia thinking that three years from education wasn’t that big of a gap. She rather felt a little stupid being the youngest and only 21 year old there, having the smallest gap between education and apparently being the only one with stupid writer’s block.

‘Potayto, potahto.’ He said airily as he drifted off to speak to the forty year old woman on the desk adjacent to hers.

When the break had come within the four hour lesson, only then did Mia realise how hungry she was. She barely ate the night before, and was on the verge of passing out if it wasn’t for the lady next to her kindly offering her one of her extra sandwiches after noticing that Mia was the only one not eating. Mia beamed at her and even gave her a big embrace- fully aware that her behaviour was a little OTT- but couldn’t care less as she happily welcomed the tuna mayo sarnie with lecherous delight.

The class ended on a high note a Mia got to know the forty year old. It turned out that she already had written some stories that were highly acclaimed but not published, and so wanted to find out information on publishing and such. Mia could have honestly worshipped the ground she treaded on after hearing she had rubbed shoulders with the likes of Stephen King, but thought it best to keep it on the low. One unanticipated hug from Mia was enough for anyone that day.

Mia turned and waved her off as her husband came to collect her in a modest, but rather cute purple Mini. She offered to drop Mia off to the station, but Mia refused her kind gesture. Taking the poor woman’s extra sandwich was enough for her.

Stupid Mia, she thought to herself, and she immediately made a mental note to make lunch for her next class and give the lady a container of one of her special Mediterranean salads with handmade dressing.

She waved the lady off and turned around to see everyone else setting off on the opposite direction to where she was going or being picked up. Within a few minutes, Mia was alone, and even spotted her writing co-ordinator speeding off in a blue Ford Fiesta.

She sighed as she looked up and blinked at the orange halogen lights that illuminated the distance between her and King’s Cross station. She wished a bus came down this direction, but it didn’t, and the quickest way back home was to go back the same way she came. She took a deep breath and clutched onto her bag tight, aware that there were hardly any cars going down the street. Her heart knocked between her ribcage as she followed the road down, and as she neared the street corner, she darted the rest of the way down making her feet sore by the time she reached the station.

But she got there at least she thought with a suppressed sigh of relief. The tube was bustling as usual, and when she arrived at Goodge Street station, Mia found her tense shoulders fall lax, and herself yawning.

She was hungry, like really hungry, and despite how much she protested at eating at any sushi chains (because they were well, crap and too freaking expensive for the rubbish quality of sushi they served) she found herself nimbly picking out an assortment of nigiri rolls, two onigiri and edamame beans from her local Samurai.  Mia practically wolfed down an onigiri as soon as she paid the bored Chinese girl at the counter who idly conversed in Mandarin with her manager. Sushi chains run by Chinese? Absurd. Thought Mia as she hastily chewed the second onigiri and washed it down with a bottle of water. It didn’t taste bad, it was just sustenance for her as she- how could she put it- couldn’t really be assed to do any cooking as soon as she went home. And she had no guarantee that her roommates were having a romp with their respective boyfriends. It put her off thinking about cooking while they were going well and truly at it.

Dammit she should just get a boyfriend and join in too, she thought with wicked resolution, but later thought of it as a stupid idea since she really hadn’t well… Allowed any guy to take it any further than a kiss. She was not some love doll, and although yes she had gotten drunk and many times her kisses got out of hand, Mia never ever went home with anyone. She had far too much self respect than to be ‘that one who sleeps with anyone,’ and after that regretful session of a drunken kiss getting too out hand, Mia stopped drinking, well she restricted  it to only drinking wine with meals. She likened herself to be a posh drunk- if that even was a possible word.

She discarded the wrappers to her onigiri and forced herself to not start picking at the individual wrapped sushi. Her flat was only around the corner, she could wait, and was already beginning to feel contently full by the time she turned down the road.

A large moving van was park opposite it, with a driver leaning against the side and puffing a cigarette whilst he looked at his mobile phone. Mia glanced at him, and he looked up at the same time, their eyes latching for a moment in the partial darkness. She felt a little perturbed as his gaze never left her even when she turned to the glass door to her flat and fished for her keys. She could still see him staring at her in the faint reflection.

Chills ran down her spine as she let herself in, and as she turned around for one last time to look at him before she went into the building, terror overwhelmed her as a strong chemical smelling cloth was pressed against her mouth and nose and a black bag was shoved over her head.

All she remembered as she faded away was the sinister furrow of his eyebrows and the hard smirk on the man’s lips.


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