I slowly turned around and brought my eyes down to the chest. Surely, it was too small. You couldn't fit a person in there. You couldn't. But what about a very small, starving, emaciated child? What about her? If I were an investigator looking for a child I would never consider looking in this chest. It was just too small.
I knelt down to the ground and unclipped the clasps. It would be better to not look. After all that I had overcome, this new life that I had earned. It could all be undone by opening this toy box. I shouldn't open it. I should throw it in a landfill and forget it ever existed. I should not look inside..
I opened the chest but I didn't look inside.
I never had a new doll I just had Betsy. My mother never could afford to buy me another one. I never had a wagon either. But I did have a toy box. A pretty, blue and white toy box. And when I was five, I drowned my two year old sister and put her in it. I still remember it but instead she was a doll.
My mother is very mad but she cant get over that I didn't know that Betsy was a person. Was I the person on drugs? Was I the person who caused my own mother to go to jail? Nerves run through my stomach what really happened that moment when I was angry?. Trying to think I couldn't help but shed a small tear on my left cheek. It was me.
