“You have candy?! Give me candy and I won’t eat your brains. Not right away. I just need candy” Isabella circles like a puppy. Bright shiny eyes albeit a bit disturbingly colored.”I’ll be good. Really! I need chocolate.”
Mr Mills looks awkwardly at the child. “Who have you this hairdo? And those contacts? They are horrible! You look like a Halloween doll! Where’s you guardian little one?”
His hands twitch as they tug at the sleeves of the blue ill-fitting suit. His eyes stay down away from the child. His middle aged conditions knawl at him. He wants answers but the child is obviously spoiled beyond belief.
“I ate her brain. She told me to take of my wig. So i jumped up on her shoulders to chew hers off her head. I was surprised when it was real.” she looks around the room for an unseen need “I guess that’s what the screaming she was doing was all about. But I didn’t get my candy yet. So where’s it at?”
“Rich imagination child. I’m here on serious matters. It won’t take much more before in feed up with your game. Isabella, be a good girl. Go find Ms Maples….please.” His face is a tightrope. The words filter through clinched teeth.
“Ok, I’ll go get someone. Do you me too? Really she’s not much to talk to anymore…” Isabella kicks at the floor. The realization that no candy is coming sinks in.
“Yes, Isabella, I would like that very much.” Mr Mills watches her disappear. Little foot steps find a hallway and echo against dark wood panels.
He turns to look at the strange tapestry of a fox hunt on the wall. “No wonder she’s so dark.”
A squeaking sound builds within the hall that Isabella chose. He waits to turn. The woman clearly kept him waiting for a reason. No-one thinks child services ever sees these tactics.
“Here she is…Ms Maples. You wanted to she her. Here she is!” The little girl poses like the magician completing a trick.
“My God! What happened here?!” His voice quivers and fails. His face stretches and pales. Dark holes once held eyes can’t move. Slowly his body leans away.
“You asked. I brought her to you. Where’s the candy, Mr Mills?” her voice starts to sing.
Ms Maples is on a dolly. Her skull sticking out, part of its skin covers what’s left of a face. Her pale skin shows signs of bruising. Tied hands hold her together in a modified ball.
“Oh please, give me the candy. You adults are hard enough to deal with. My sugar is low….I don’t know weekday I might do next. Right, Ms Maples.” Isabella smiles.
Mr Mills runs for the door. Small feet move much faster than old feet.