She
was a mannequin
An
exquisite beauty consumed by a sadness that was eternities old
Doe
eyed. Porcelain skinned.
Her
perfect face seemed framed by shadow, a product of her charcoal
sweater and dark silken mane of rich chestnut
Her
gaze was alert and innocent, yet she would not meet with mine
What
is your name?
"Lilya"
Her
demeanour and grace at odds with the cheap and dated decor of this
motorway inn
Pine
veneer headboard and embossed wallpaper borders
Wall
lights with canvas shades
Tropical
flowers faded with years of use patterned the duvet cover upon which
Lilya sat
I
tell her her name is beautiful
"Thank
you" Lilya says, lowering her gaze like she was undeserving of
the compliment
I
tell her she is beautiful
"Thank
you", she says again, automatically
A few
seconds pass, in uncomfortable silence. My attention wanders, finds
the distant drone of the motorway and suddenly I become conscious of
what I ought to be doing here.
"What
do you do? Do you study? Work?" I ask briskly, the intense
solemnity of her repose now beginning to confound me a little
".....work",
she mumbles after a lengthy pause
"What
is your job?"
At
this she remains silent, perhaps slightly confused by what I could
mean.
I
hand her some magazines to look through.
"Do
you like anything there? Say which things you like. Do you like that?
Is that something you might like to try?" I quiz, pointing to a
couple engaging in anal sex
"I
don't know", Lilya says timidly but now sitting more upright
"Do
you have a boyfriend?"
"No"
"You
don't have a boyfriend!"
"How
many boyfriends have you had?"
"One"
"You're
a serious girl aren't you?"
"Maybe"
"Ok,
could you take off all your clothes for me"
I
started at her feet, slowly moving the camera up her body, scanning
her ankles, knees, thighs, her smooth waist, supple breasts, before
arriving at her flawless face which held an eternal expression of
indifference. As Lilya gathered her hair to tie it back I could see a
scar running around her neck which clearly hadn't healed. A
continuous red ring.
"What
is that scar on your neck?"
Lilya
looked directly at me and failed to arrest a smile that had escaped
"What
scar?", she calmly replied, eyes now alive
"Lilya,
there is a deep scar around your neck that is weeping. Now tell me
how you got it!"
"What
scar?, she repeated gently. "What scar?", now glowing with
the deepest satisfaction.
