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!~