Abigail hummed softly, lovingly caressing her doll's hair. How beautiful it was. She wanted to look like her, with long shimmering blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, and perfect skin.

You're my beautiful

I'd give the world to see you breath

Beside me

She wished her mother would come home. Her daddy was dead, killed by an unknown illness. She hadn't grieved, though. She never liked the man who created her. He never let her do anything.

But her doll was always there for her. She listened when Abigail complained about her father. She never moved her gaze away from Abigail, so Abby knew she was listening. She seemed to cry when Abby cried, she seemed to laugh when Abby laughed, and she helped Abby not be afraid when it stormed.

But what Abigail hated was the permanent look on her doll's face: a look of shock. Sometimes Abby drew on her face to make her smile. She looked even more beautiful when she smiled.

Abigail glanced up at her mirror and instantly hated what she saw. Thin brown hair, dark brown eyes, freckles, and too skinny. She hated her looks often.

She hugged her doll tight, wondering where her mother was. Her mother hadn't been back for months. She was still waiting patiently for her.

The thing she was bothered most by was that she was slowly running out of food. She knew her mom would come back, her arms loaded with groceries. She would smile at Abby and ask what she did that day.

Abby sighed and leaned against the wall, letting the doll sit next to her limply. It's eyes were blank, unseeing. There were red stains all over her clothes and body. Abigail wondered how those had gotten there.

She gazed at the doll and the doll gazed back at her.

Her mother's head tilted slightly to the right, her rotting body smelling awful.