The surgery came and went. She went under and woke up with a numbing pain surrounding her. Flesh felt foreign. There was this smell of silicone and metal. Something had been burnt. Hair felt stiched in. Skin felt rubbery and glossy.
It was to save her appearance. But there was little left to truly save. What remains now is an artificial shell of molded wax in irrational forms of failed beauty. Her eyes felt so hollow and black. The light made her uneasy.
The smile was never ending. A permanent fixture on her face. She could not relax and the taught sadness slumped deeper within than she could show. Something inside her was filled with broken regret and hoping to be noticed. But there was nothing but plastic in the way.
$50,000. Another $20,000 and it would be complete. Flesh made whole. Wholely new. Holy nude. Holly knew. Like a worn product, her humanity was traded for commerciality. The vibrance was mechanized and the essence fabricated. Perverted illusions trapped to cope forever in microscopic incisions.
There will never be decay. There will never be a wrinkle. Ageless perfection to form cement skin. The gloss will never fade. The eyes will never blink. The mouth will never eat. The lungs will never breath. The heart will never beat. The price has been payed for in installments. She doesn't mind the cost.