I’m not your doll. I’m not your doll. I’m not your doll!

“Put your arms up, sweetie.” The woman in front of me crooned, her red eyes glittered.

I obediently put up my arms and she slips on a rust-colored dress that looked like it had been attacked by monkeys. The back of the dress was torn off, one of the long sleeves had been reduced to shreds & the middle of it had scratches in it that exposed some of my midriff. The chilly air made goosebumps stand on my arms.

“Pucker your lips, please.” The woman said and I did as I was told as she smeared glowing gold lipstick on my mouth.

She expertly made up the rest of my face and body and then turned my around so I could look in the mirror. I thought I looked like a shiny and shredded pumpkin. I’m not your doll.

“Now get out there with the rest of the Dolls and entertain the duke. He wants to see a ball to ease his nerves. Go on, like a good little Doll.” The woman cooed like she was talking to a dog instead of me.

I walked out to the ballroom on stilettos.