After a few incoming texts, I realized some of you noticed my drop in posting and engagement for a couple of weeks. I took a little time to rest through the anniversary of my dad’s passing and I am thankful for the love that exists in my life that holds space for me to grieve. I am beyond grateful and overwhelmed by the calls, texts, hugs, kisses, and food. An entire series could be made of all the beautiful ways my village carries me. Thank you for all of it. I am looking forward to getting back into a routine and reviewing.
I wish I could remember where or when I came across this series, but in truth, it doesn’t matter now because I’m in love with Luana Vecchio’s work. I expected horror, I expected gore, and I even expected it to be provocative. I did not expect to be quietly gutted while I read. This one has carved its place into my psyche and has taken up residence like a parasite. This journey from child to monster is enthralling. Like a roller coaster: you want off when it starts dropping, but once it’s over, you stand in line again, breathless.
Let’s talk about the amazing woman, Luana Vecchio. Working for several years now in the independent comic industry, she has secured a name for herself in horror. She won the Russ Manning Promising Newcomer Award, and it’s obvious why. She not only is a talented artist, but her fearless portrayal of the brutalization that occurs digitally has made her one of the most interesting creators. After self-publishing the erotic deep-dive into power, Lovesick, Image Comics picked it up and expanded it. It follows a dominatrix whose subscribers pay her to kill them online and enlightens us about the price of voyeurism.
That brings me to Doll Parts. A four-issue series published by Image in December 2024. It is the origin story of Domino, the dominatrix from Lovesick, as she learns how violence appears in girlhood. It’s tragically relatable while providing you insights into experiences none of us want to live through. I tried the last two weeks to do a couple of other reads, but this series was clawing the inside of my skull to be reviewed.
The covers are like a Highlights magazine for kids. Bright, bubbly, hidden objects for the eyes to find. It captures you with the illusion of softness, only to gradually rip out every preconceived idea you could have about its contents. There are so many variant covers I want, and I still need to add the physical copies of issues three and four to my collection. The variant covers, especially those by guest artists, bring fresh energy while honoring the tone of the series. They celebrate femininity and fragility, but always with an undercurrent of danger.
The story follows Madeleine as she navigates small betrayals by her parents. Her mother’s continual shaming of her and other women, and her father’s silence, have convinced her twelve-year-old mind that she shouldn’t exist. Ballet is a soft outlet for the hard truths tearing their way through her daily routine. Boys pawing at her changing body, and finding solace in the most disturbed recesses of the dark web, girlhood has become a battleground. With surgical precision, each layer of how Domino evolved is not just witnessed but felt. Her paneling slows time down in all the right places, letting you sit in the discomfort, in the ache of a girl who’s being devoured by the world around her. Readers are drawn into Madeleine’s limited understanding of what’s happening to her until she can’t unsee it anymore.
Beneath the horror lies a heartbeat of resistance. Who saves girls like Madeline when some of the monsters that plague us are inherited?
The answer, in this world, is Domino. And somehow, after reading this series, her violence feels less shocking and more tragic. Luana Vecchio doesn’t just tell stories. She exposes nerves. She writes Madeleine as a child. The tenderness with which she handles this character. Her loneliness, and her hunger to be seen, are what makes the horror so effective. We’re not watching a villain’s origin story. We’re watching a little girl be abandoned by every system meant to keep her safe.
For readers of Lovesick, Doll Parts offers depth through a slow-burn psychological horror about grief, purity culture, and how things online can quickly become real. This story didn’t just resonate with me, it haunted me. It demanded to be spoken about. It is, without exaggeration, one of the most impactful comics I’ve ever read.
A heartbreaking, harrowing descent into survival and self-transformation. Not for the faint of heart, but unforgettable for those who are brave enough to make it through.
Following the critical success of Doll Parts, Vecchio has teased another project in development—one that continues to explore the emotional landscape of young women, but with a new supernatural angle. While details are scarce, she’s confirmed it will not be a direct sequel, but it will carry spiritual connections to both Lovesick and Doll Parts.
In the meantime, she continues to produce variant covers for major publishers including DC (Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn), Titan (Conan the Barbarian), and Skybound (Creepshow), each dripping with her signature balance of elegance and discomfort.
How did Doll Parts leave you feeling? Answer in the comment box below.
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