Tears of blood streaked down her face and thick matted hair covered her scratched, hurt wounds. The room was pitch black, she was alone.
She was always alone.
Locked up inside a hell-hole screaming at the top of her lungs day and night.
Pools of her own blood surrounded her and the dress she was wearing, once white, now was a deep wet scarlet ripped and shredded into pieces.
Her thick matted hair had once been blonde, bouncy, silky and golden, but now it was a mass of black steaked with red.
Her once peach skin had turned into a ghostly white, slashed and perforated with gashes pouring out blood.
Her once light, cheery, hyper happy soul had transformed into ugly black tar, oozing anger, blood, and sorrow.
Her heart, laying next to her, was dead to the world, she dug it out of her own chest to ease some of her suffering.
"I'M HERE!" she shrieked.
"WHY CAN'T YOU SEE ME?!" She sobbed more, wanting to be heard. "I'M NOT INVISIBLE! WHY DO YOU IGNORE ME?!"
Desperately, she clawed at the walls, causing her nails to break off and more blood to streak.
"WHY CAN'T YOU HEAR ME! DON'T ACT OBLIVIOUS! DON'T ACT LIKE YOU CAN'T HEAR OR SEE ME! YOU KNOW I'M HERE! YOU'RE THE ONES IMPRISONED ME HERE! YOU CAUSED THIS! NOT ME! IT'S NOT MY FAULT! IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" She screamed and shrieked.
Why couldn't they acknowledge her existence? They knew how much she was suffering.
But, they didn't care how much pain she carried. As far as they were concerned, she deserved it. She was just another extra, a minor character.
A nobody, in their life.
But they knew, they ALL knew.
Once upon a time, there was a girl with friends. Then after a while, the girl's friends got tired of her, so they locked her in a cage.
A mental cage.
One in which, she would never be able to escape. Then, they abandoned her and acted like she didn't exist.
They don't know her.
She's a nobody.
She doesn't have any feelings, she's not allowed to.
And she didn't want to feel either, she wanted to die, the pain to cease.
On the outside of the prison, life was normal, her old friends laughed and talked.
Had they seriously forgotten her?
Did they realize that being happy was a facade? She stitched on a smile, herself, causing her lips to bleed, preventing her from talking.
A permanent smile, a good rag doll.
Be a good rag doll, she said to herself.
No talking, if you do, at least one person will be upset about what you say.
She then, ripped her black soul out and threw it on the floor.
I've cried all the tears.
I've bled all the blood.
I'm ready to be a good puppet, she thought to herself.
Suddenly, the room turned bleak and grey as she made her decision.
With no emotion she walked out the now unlocked door into the cold cruel world.
Rain started splashing down on her, chilling to the core, snaking down along her back and worming through her hair.
All of the scarlet drained from her and slid away, taking the last of her emotions.
Her clothes now clung to her, soaking and icy.
But she didn't feel it, she was a rag doll.
Rag dolls aren't allowed to feel anything, see anything, hear anything, or smell anything.
She was a puppet, dutifully serving her puppetmaster.
Her stitched on smile fell apart and washed away in the rain, so the puppetmaster painted her smile for her...