Dance Of The Red Death (Masque Of The Red Death) - Plot & Excerpts
But she is sitting up, dressed in a bright gown. “You keep leaving this,” she says, instead of “hello” like a normal person. She’s holding my makeup bag. I throw myself into her arms and hug her. “How do you feel?” I start to ask, but she puts her hand to my mask, shushing me. “Let’s not talk about that. We’re back in the Debauchery Club.” I stare at her, at a loss, and then she laughs. “Let’s dye your hair.” She pulls bottles and vials from her own bag. I want to laugh with her, but I’m afraid if I do, something inside me might break. The most I can summon is a smile. “This is the first time I’ve seen you smile in a long time,” she says softly. “There hasn’t been much to smile about.” My father can’t be dead; April can’t be dying. But I know better than that. I held my twin brother while the life bled out of him. Bad things happen every day. Unspeakable things. “You aren’t even going to recognize yourself,” she says, and it takes me a moment to realize that she’s talking about my hair.
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