Rag Doll.

I laid cold and still where my owner had tossed me. Mufasa, the evil looking zebra elephant, was staring right at me and to be honest, it was creeping me out. I decided to focus on other things to avoid his beady red eyes. My left eye felt like it was going to be popping off soon and the bottoms of my black cloth feet were worn. I had stuffing peeking out of the seam on my right hip and didn't know if I could take much more before I bit the dust. The fact was, I really didn't want to leave, no matter how badly he treated me. And what did he know other than I was a hunk of fluff and not a real thinking thing? When he was younger, he took me everywhere. I can't even count the hours he kept me tucked under his shoulder when he went to the dentist, to the park, everywhere. Those were certainly the years! I felt a bump on the bed shake me and interrupt my thoughts. I heard a meow and a quiet hiss directed at Mufasa. Only the cat. Hopefully she won't gnaw on my forehead today so I could think straight. Speaking of thinking, what was I just saying? Oh yeah, oh yeah...the good old days. I missed them so much. He would hold me tight at night when he would go to sleep, he would use me to wipe his tears away when he was crying, and I was his pillow when he needed something to fall back on. I thought I had it made and that I'd always have my best friend with me. Well, little did I know that kids grow up and things change. I, myself, hadn't ever experienced change. I was a rag doll for crying out loud...my hair didn't get longer like his, my legs and arms didn't get longer like his. I was the same forever, with the exception of my rips and tears. But, time flew by and things changed more and more each day. New things happened, new people showed up, new places were created and I was being left behind more often. It went from one day a week, to three days, to four, and then all seven. All seven days of every week I laid alone on his bed waiting for him to come home. I couldn't call out his name, I couldn't run after him, I couldn't tell him how much I loved him or how I needed him. I couldn't do anything but lay there and wait to see his face again, if I did. When the days together faded to only nights together, I wasn't completely upset. At least he still held me tight as he slept, and at least he still came to me with his problems. A bad day at school would bring him straight to his room and into my arms; a long day at work would guide him straight underneath the covers right beside me and put him to sleep. But, just as I started getting used to the new changes, more were made and more were still coming. I was often put away when other people came over, and at night I was put to the corner of the bed, left to watch him sleep without me next to him. With all my new time to think, I had figured out that there was no getting him back now and no way to go back to what once was. Before, I was his Molly, and now I was his rag doll from when he was a kid. Once an insider, always behind the scenes, and now a stranger to this new person I no longer recognized. Oh, how I longed for that boy's touch...how I craved his warmth that I used to know so well! But, I knew for certain, there was no getting it back. The past was the past and it was time for me to move on. Just as this last thought had crossed my mind, I heard a knob turn and slow footsteps coming from behind me. My flat, featureless face was against the wall, and I did not know who had entered the room. It was silent for a long time, at least thirty minutes. It was like this unknown person was just standing behind me, staring at me. I could feel someone's eyes digging into my back, through the cloth dress I wore and through the plush that defined me. And then, out of nowhere, I felt his hand clutch onto me and lift me from the ocean blue comforter and into the air. He turned me over and looked me in the eyes, rubbing the ripped seam in my hip. His eyes were melancholy and cold, and he had a hurt look draped across his face. Like, something inside him was paining him to be holding me so. I wanted so much to open the cursed stitches of my mouth and tell him how much I missed him and how much I loved him, but I knew it would never be so, and he would never know how this little rag doll wanted to be loved again. He looked to the floor and then back up at me, like he was deciding. And then, with one slow and hesitated motion, he tossed me into the trash can. Was this happening? Had I lost him AND this world I'd grown used to? No no no no no no no...this can't possibly be happening...I must be dreaming, if a doll can dream! Suddenly, this feeling started seeping through my soft body, like my stitches and my seems were all being ripped and cut out. How can a doll feel this way? How can something like me, merely made of loose fabric, feel such a horrible emotion! And it got worse by the second! I didn't know I loved him this much...I didn't know I could hurt so much for one person, for one being! I could feel my mind slowly stopping up, almost like I was ceasing to exist before his eyes and before my own eyes. He had thrown me away, and my time here was over. What could I do? I certainly could not survive in this trash can, in constant darkness. I could not survive the burning sensation and the emptiness coursing through me, or what was left of Molly. There was nothing else I could do but die. I let go and slowly slipped away into the darkness of this hole that was now my grave. Farewell, farewell.