What does it mean to be truly broken?
They used to call me Doll Face. The pretty girl with perfect porcelain skin. But that was a lifetime ago.
Before I learned how cruel this world really is.
Now I belong to them. All of my secrets have been exposed. They smile when I cry. They laugh when I scream.
They won’t stop until I’m broken. Then what? What do cruel men do with broken dolls?
Especially the ones that don’t deserve to be put back together again.
Note: This is a standalone story.