I sit here upon the bed, looking around the room, wondering what is going to happen to me. I wonder if I am going to be handled lovingly or with reckless abandon. Knowing my little sister, Cayla Joy, it will probably be the latter: she has always been rough with her toys.
The very thought of being slung around or thrown absolutely terrifies me.
It feels weird not being able to move an inch of my body, let alone, blink. If I could cry, I would; if I could move, I would: run away from here and go somewhere else. I hate having Great Millie living with us: she's a precticing witch, and she knows I hate the doll she got me for my fifteenth birthday; maybe she did this to get her revenge. She knew I was disappointed in her gift, so maybe she turned me into the very thing I hate to "get back at me".
Knowing her, I wouldn't put it past her. She has always creeped me out.
I hear a sudden burst of childish laughter. It is Cayla Jo. She is only four, but she is a precocious little thing, wise beyond her tender years, yet she is all little girl: frilly pink princess dresses, tiara sitting atop her blonde hair, big, blue eyes, chubby arms and legs, bubbling over with adorableness and spunk: typical preschooler.
She drives me crazy. I hate her as much as Great Aunt Millie.
Maybe if I could move I could physically do something to get rid of not only Great Aunt Millie, but Cayla Jo. I have never loved her, especially since she was the one who took over the attention from my parents. Before Cayla Jo came along, it was just Mom, Dad, and me. I absolutely loved it! Now we have the Brat Child (not to mention Great Aunt Millie) living with the family, and I have been miserable ever since.
I will have to think of something to move or do something to get back at the two people who have caused me the most grief ... it couldn't hurt, but I am getting desperate .....
~To be continued!~