A/N: A simple concept I thought of when I listened to "Dollhouse" by Melanie Martinez. It's such a great and dark song.
Caitlin loved playing with Barbie dolls when she was little, always marrying off Barbie and Ken. They would "buy" their dreamhouse together and own two cars–a pink convertible for her and a sports car for him–and eventually would have babies while she balanced her career and maintained her perfectly petite frame.
She viewed her dolls in that light because she hoped the same for herself one day. That she'd be the beautiful, blonde doll of her Ken's dreams–with perfectly applied makeup, fabulous hair, and superb style. That she'd be living in Malibu with him (Nikki always called Caitlin Malibu Beach Barbie anyways), and be the best fashion designer there was. Because she would have the same for herself one day.
:::
Black mascara trailed down her cheeks. (She forgot to wear waterproof today, which is how you could tell she was really hurt.) Her blue eyeshadow was smudged into her pasty skin. Her blonde hair was disheveled (from sobbing hysterically into her pillow). Having her (parents') dreamhouse wasn't the problem and she was still working towards being the best designer there was. There was one thing missing from this almost perfect picture.
Another Ken left today.
Another one of many.
Another too many for Barbie.