HIS BROKEN PLAYTHING
That feeling stayed with me until she passed away, and we ran.
The girl in front of me now reminds me of those porcelain dolls. Small, pale, delicate, fragile to the touch… and yet, something about her makes me want to break her too.
I watched her from across the room, her eyes filled with fear when I walked in, and she quickly looked away. She clung to the couch, shaking so badly it looked like she might break apart from her own fear.
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