the toy girl part 1

The frail shadowed figure sat hunched in a corner like a hedgehog in hibernation. It rocked gently with its hands delicately placed over its fragile ears trying to block out the unbearable noise screeching from the nearby shattered window. As the shouting and drone of the TV drifted into the night the deathly thin silhouette clambered to its feet revealing a 15 year old girl underfed and clearly uncared for. She had straggly dirty blonde hair which entwined around her face hiding its intense beauty and emerald green eyes. Abigail Johnson dried her tears on her grayish t-shirt and made her way to the next part of her daily routine. Comforting her mother. The house creaked shattering the silence as Abigail traipsed along the landing into the room where her mother lay, traumatized by the previous ordeal. The stench hit Abigail hard in the face as she approached the unmade bed in the middle of the dingy room. Whisky. Both Abigail’s and her mother’s worst enemy. The room was covered in whisky bottles, beer cans used needles and grime. After fighting her way through the clouded darkness the inconsolable teenager reached the lifeless figure of her mother and struggled to fight back her tears. Gently sitting down she lifted her mothers head and rested it on her lap whispering comforting words sensitively into her ears. “We’re going to be ok” she recited “we’re going to be ok”1

Abigail had lived with this torture all of her desolate life and the daily custom ran like clockwork almost as if she were a toy and life was its ghastly game. The toy girl left her mother in the tranquility of her tears and preceded with life’s game. Abigail murmured her goodbyes clutched her backpack and crept out of the reformatory house that she lived within. This was the hardest part of the distressed youngster’s life. Going to school. Not only did the battered child have to explain her new scars but she had to hide the pain embedded in her heart with a sickening fake smile. 2