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the box

By , Braintree, MA
My punch buggy's wheel lies on my leg, but makes no dent. The bear's paw suffocates me, but I can't pus it off. All I see is a shaft of light, through a crack in the lid. I hear sobs and notice Polly, looking like crumpled up paper, instead of her usual plastic.

We all ask the same question. Why? Why were we chosen and not them? Were we not fun, did we do something wrong? It had been fine before, why now? It never made sense to anyone, I guess; but I saw what would become of me.

If only I knew.

Sammie-the larger, younger, less pretty version of myself-bought me downstairs to retrieve a baby doll for show and tell, a little over two years ago. What I witnessed would haunt me for weeks. I saw my future. Baby dolls and building blocks, trapped useless, sad looking things, tossed aside for most likely ever. I'd heard horror stories, a leaking roof that drowns you, a cold you can't shiver out. A giant rat crawling over your head, but you can't scream. I had never believed them, but I did now. They told me that after some years in here, they get rid of you permanently. The lucky ones find their ways to a dirty poor child's hands, I would welcome that right now; anything just to be played with.

I now know that all those clothes she gave me would be a waste. The dream house with Ken wouldn't matter. I would stay in the pink dress, my favorite, forever.

Maybe she'll come for me one day, hopefully, and she'll be reminded of the fun times we had. But in reality, I know that I am trapped by these four walls.





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