RECOMMENDED FOR MATURE READERS
The day was done, and so was I. The Hellbound Dolls returned to their corners, and I my own.
Fingers slipped under my fringe and curled around the band. Pulling back was like tearing away my skin, but the face underneath belonged to a stranger; less than that, it was a shadow projected on a screen.
A smear across my cheek melted humanity away. If paint had brought Chiyoko to life then stripping away the blush, gloss, and eyeliner would be her death. Who was I without her face?