I was nine years old when I received my first porcelain doll. It was shiny and perfect in every way from the silkiness of its hair to the delicate features of its face. "I love it daddy!" I cried hugging my father tightly. He chuckled and told me if I could take good care of it he'd let me start my own collection so from that day on I took the doll everywhere with me. To the park where we'd play on the swings or have pretend magical tea parties. That doll understood me, it was probably my only friend. Looking back on it; that should have been a warning sign...
Let me start from the beginning though.
My name is Aimee Lynn Bellenger and this is the story of my slow descent to madness.
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