#8E1717
Reese lifted the lid off the luxuriant box that had been set on her lap, revealing the petite porcelain face within. The doll's embroidered skirts were reminiscent of her own. In fact, the doll looked very much like her, from her yellow braids down to the rose buckled shoes that Reese kicked mahogany table legs with. What a lucky little girl was she. To have been wrapped up just like Lucie and chosen by such a lovely couple, whom - she realised, as she glanced up at them - she couldn't remember the faces of. She did remember them telling her that they were going to start calling her something flowery, prettier, like Rosalia or Rosemarie, from now on, and wondering about whether to get the sparkly trinket around her neck appraised. Reese lifted the doll from its casket and clapped its hands.
Clink.
Like that, everything changed. The doll was lifted from her reach. Meaningless numbers spouted off at her. Reprimanded, berated of its expense, insistence that it was not a thing to be played with. Ever since she began her life in the dollhouse, these instances never stopped. None of the toys she were given were to play with.
"Remember - she isn't here for you to play with," she was reminded as she gave a curtsy to a doll-like little girl. "Know what you are."
One day, Reese stole her pretend father's keys. There was something in the garage she wanted to play with. A Mercedes SL 300 Gullwing. A beautiful, sleek silver, with red leather seats and doors that swung up like wings. It was the perfect thing to fly away in - fly back home. The roaring bird took her down the highway, jerking and stalling at first, then flying faster than anyone else on the road. For a moment, her mind was clear, and she was so, so certain that she was going the right way. For once she wasn't lost.
Then a corner came too fast, and her little hands slipped, and she and the Gullwing were flipped into a ditch.
What she remembered next were hospital lights, and her false parents in a frenzy - hospital bills, insurance, the car, the car, the car. When her pretend mother parted the curtains, Reese gave her such a glare. It was a dangerous look that made her quiver in her high heels. It was a look that would certainly ruin any perfect family portrait. And that, out of everything, was something she could not afford.
Reese was returned to the orphanage in a jovial mood, not one of a child that had been tossed out of aristocracy like broken goods. She sprinted into the miserable looking building with a grin on her face, bounced up the stairs, and slid around corners towards her old room. Only when she burst through the familiar doors, she found it... empty. All of the beds lined against the walls where the girls used to be were perfectly made and their bedside tables lacked any of the personality they used to hold.
"... Where is everyone?" She asked in a trembling voice.
"They were adopted, Reese," a worker softly informed her. "All of the girls are happy with families now."
Reese was stunned. Shocked tears sprung to her eyes and she blurted, "Wh-what about Miss Lilith?! Is Miss... is she...!"
The worker shook her head. "She doesn't work here anymore. We don't know where she went now. I'll... give you time to settle in."
The door was closed on her. Reese dropped her bags and held onto her shaking shoulders. The dolls she wasn't supposed to play with were gone. And with them, the only feeling of home she had. They had all left her behind. Reese fell to the ground, bawling.
She never felt home since. ... A head rolled across the floor and nudged her knee.
Consciousness hit Reese like an elbow drop.