Barbie Doll Names

I am standing in front of the mirror only on my red skirt and blouse.He is wearing me a red saree.Tears are flowing from my eyes like nigra falls.After wearing me the saree,he sat me down in front of the mirror and started wearing me jewellery. He applied red lipstick on my lips and said seductively, "you look very fuckable in red colour."I replied crying, "please.Let me see my brother.He is very sick.Let me go to the hospital for once".Hearing me, he slapped very hard on my face and fisted my hair tightly.He said anger dripping from his voice,"you dare to talk back.Did you just forget your place in front of me.Tell me who you are?Tell me whom you belong? I hissed in pain and replied," I am your doll. I only belong to you. I am only yours" . . . Devika, A 20-year-old college-going girl was married to the mafia leader Abhinav. After her marriage, her husband started torturing her for some reason which she doesn't know. Will she ever come to know why she is being tortured?Join Abhinav and Devika's, bittersweet love journey and be a part of their journey.. . . Warning- Disturbing scene ahead like violence, rape and mental abuse. Read at your own risk. It's a work of fiction. So, kindly take it as fiction. English isn't my first language so apologizing in advance for grammatical errors.

‘It’s not that there aren’t good people in the world. It’s that the bad ones are so much easier to find.’ A teen mother raises her daughter on a looping road trip, living hand-to-mouth in motel rest stops and backwater towns, stepping occasionally into the heat and chaos of the surrounding cities. A life without permanence, filled with terrors and joys, their stability is dependent on the strangers—and strange men—they meet along the way. But what is the difference between the love of a mother, and the love of a friend? And in a world with such blurred lines, where money is tight and there’s little outside influence, when does the need to survive slide into something more sinister? ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

“You don’t mean anything to me,” he spoke dangerously, the tips of his fingers curling in my hairs as he jerked my neck back. “A mere toy that I’ll use whenever I want,” a breathless whimper escaping my lips. “Leave me-“ “Or what?” His lips stretched into a wide grin. “Tear me with your tiny claws?” He backed me into the wall behind me and leaned in closer, his grey eyes pierced my soul. “Remember, Amara, you exist solely for my pleasure.” He pulled my hair harder and my flesh burned the moment he nuzzled his face into my shoulder. I bet he could hear my heart beat accelerating with passing breath. His other arm circling to wrap around my waist, my heart pounded when his strong sandalwood essence in-filtered my senses. “Rhys-” “Shh…and for your punishment, I want you to bend over the wall and lift you skirt.” ****

"It is an anxious, sometimes a dangerous thing to be a doll. Dolls cannot choose; they can only be chosen; they cannot 'do'; they can only be done by."

Tobias Ashford, the self made Billionaire, slept with Hazel Cameron, an unusual Stripper in a drunken night and now she was fixed on making him take responsibility for stealing her virginity.

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.