She always came home broken ever since her parents had died
Her little tiny body would run into her house in tears
She would run up to the attic and pull out the fragile China doll hidden in her backpack
She had named it Marci and loved her with all her heart
The kids at school teased her and taunted her for having a doll as a friend
But real or not, it was the only friend she had
She spoke her as if Marci was alive and there was never a day she wasn't seen with it.
Each day as the kids taunted her more and more the doll would get more and more cracked
It started with just a crack here and there and the next day they continued
They ran up taking the doll and laughing as she tried to get it back
They would toss it around until they had had enough fun and throw it in the grass
Marci got more and more broken, as she did
Eventually she stopped coming to school
Hiding in her attic, nobody ever knew
She held tightly to that doll, broken or not she still loved her
Each day she played with Marci and each night she sang her that same lullaby that her parents had always sung her
She never left that attic, but yet she knew they were looking for her
And somehow they found her, they found Marci
They called from the open window shouting names at her telling her to come down
"Please don't hurt Marci please." Her little voice managed to get out
They took no notice of her words and grabbed her right out of her arms
They threw her up catching her several times
Then the children ran up to the attic with the doll and peered their heads out the window
She stood there underneath them, feet planted on the pavement unable to move
They dangled her out the small window before letting go
Little Marci tumbled to the ground shattering on the black top right before her eyes
A million pieces lay in a pile in front of her
She bent down and took one of the porcelain pieces in her small hand
It was sharp and planted a small cut on her palm
Nothing mattered because she felt no pain
She rubbed the cracked yet smooth surface with her thumb
Her only friend gone
Her one ounce of happiness taken away
She picked up the rest of the broken pieces of Marci in her hands leaving more cuts
She walked back into the house and up the stairs to the attic
Setting the shards of porcelain in the crib where Marci once lay she let a tear fall
She sat there and sung that lullaby
The one she had sung every night constantly repeating it to herself quietly
Saying three last words "Goodnight dear Marci."
