I feel the house shudder as the little girl pries the front wall open with her little fingernails. My body rocks back and forth on my plastic doll feet.
When the wall falls against its hinges, the bright-pink floor that despite being a girl, I absolutely despise is jolted again and I topple forward. The second that my clawed hands clang against the floor, her head turns my way.
"Noooo! Clarissa! Get back up."
She swoops in and picks me up from the floor as I silently rage in my head, my name is Melanie. M-E-L-A-N-I-E. It's on the package- not that hard to remember.
My eyes fall open and shut as she shakes me through the air. Then she picks up my Mother and clasps us together in her slender fingers.
When I'm plastic, my hair gets disturbed like that and I can already feel it frizzing all over the place. She picks up my Brother and Father with her other hand and lays us carefully onto the floor beside her.
Then she unlatches the table from the kitchen's yellow floor and plunks it onto our heap. I can't see well because my eyelids are resting about seventy percent shut, but I can vaguely make out her scavenging for the little stools and chairs inside our dollhouse.
We all lie there in our motionless plastic skins imagining in our heads what would happen if we could be alive- but that wouldn't happen.
Wouldn't happen.
wouldn't happen.
wouldn't happen.
won't happen.
I'm sure.
YOU ARE READING
Dollhouse |slow updates|
Fanfiction{based off Melanie Martinez's song, "Dollhouse"} This is my interpretation of Melanie Martinez's song, adapted to be more of a story, rather than just the song.
