He was a man, cold like his steal knife. I could still feel it on the tip of my skin…so sharp…so lifeless. The blood dripping down my flesh, tears streaming down my face. He could have got me? Oh no…he could have. But did he? She was the first one to go. Who’s she you ask? Hmph…That does not matter anymore. I could hear her screaming as she called for help she grew limp, her voice cracking as he dragged her away. Do you think I am crazy? Doctor. Do you? The blood, the lives. Oh no but she came back, she came back but I knew it wasn’t her. The skin was there, but it was being worn by someone else, someone whom wanted to be her. I knew he wanted to smile, but her skin wouldn’t let him. He wore it, he wore what was hers. I stayed silent as he played dress up. The mirror he stared at was covered in dust, and each day I stared with him. He must have forgot about me? Though he enjoyed her skin a lot more than the others. He continued to wear it as if he knew I was watching, dolling her up as if she was his own. As he was her. This man wasn’t the prettiest, the lights dimming down on his harsh features, even with someone else’s face he couldn’t achieve beauty for he was a monster. How long did it take me to leave you ask? You tell me Doc am I really here or are you the one who’s dreaming.