Clockwork. I peeled back the porcelain mask of the body and tensed. What would I find? Was it worth knowing? No, I had to do this. I owed him that much at least. Concentrating, I flung the mask to the side where it shattered against a wall, before I had time to rethink my decision. The glass was iced with a thick layer of dust, they sparkled and danced on the clockwork head, made me think of nymphs or faries. The body was the same, all clockwork, cunning but obvious in retrospect. It explained the quiet tune she hummed constantly, the jerky movements and the rock hard porcelain skin. The reason she never showered or drank. She didn't eat and she didn't sleep. Now, what to do with the broken nuts, bolts and cogs that had enchanted and murdered my best friend?
