Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin, USA Network et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.
Pulling Strings
Elizabeth is five when she is presented with the creepiest doll she has ever seen. But great-grandma Patty is very old by then, and quite senile (according to her cousins) so she's willing to forgive her and, being a polite and considerate child with puberty still years away, she dutifully lugs the horrible thing around all day.
Normally the doll would have then gone the way of all unwanted toys and been unobtrusively buried in some cupboard … if not for the older sister of her best friend who had been bribed into keeping an eye on the smaller children while the grown-ups sat down for coffee. Said older sister got it in her head to regale the gaggle of small birthday party guests with an elaborate tale how the ugly doll was possessed by an ancient, evil spirit of a medieval witch and was wont to wander off and do terrible, unnamed things if unwatched by the person who had received it as a gift and thus been appointed its guardian. This tale agreed so much with Elizabeth's first impression of getting her soul sucked out by those uncanny, large brown doll eyes that she took it quite seriously, and for sure she did not want terrible, unnamed things happening because she neglected her assigned duty.
So, wherever she went, the creepy doll had to go. The playground – the doll had to come. Going shopping with her mother – the doll was carried with them. Visiting friends – the doll was never far. She drew a line at sleeping in the same bed as it; usually she put it on the nightstand and weighted it down with the heaviest book she could lift but unfortunately her parents were in the habit of coming in before going to bed themselves and taking it off again.
This lasted about half a year until Elizabeth decided she was too old to believe in ghost stories any longer. Only to discover – much to her chagrin – that by then she had so often made a scene when the doll was about to be left behind that both her parents were very careful to make sure it was always on hand. What her psychiatrist father thought of his daughter's attachment to the thing was anybody's guess but her mother was actually quite delighted she had taken such a fancy to a Poor-Girl doll instead of a common barbie and Elizabeth – still polite and considerate with puberty several years away (though, boy, were her parents in for a surprise in the future) – did not have the heart to disappoint her.
She made some sneaky attempts to 'forget' the creepy doll in the library or on a bench in the park but her parents always proudly presented her with it again, going to considerable lengths to prevent inevitable (in their minds) tears and heartache. So Elizabeth decided that stronger measures were called for. Much as she hated the dark, creepy basement; the horrible, creepy doll she hated more. And though her heart was hammering nervously she seized the first opportunity to slip down the stairs and, resolutely braving cobwebs and spiders, thrust the doll into the depths of a crawl space. Brushing herself off frantically after the deed she then allowed herself the little triumph of sticking out her tongue at it…
… which immediately popped back into her mind the moment her parents handed over the horrible doll with the same obvious pride she remembered so well. But by then she had acquired a second family of a dog and husband; who would not only risk life and limb to protect her from ruthless criminals but also in smooth combined effort didn't hesitate to free her of the creepy nemesis of her childhood.
And that, Elizabeth decided that evening, was definitely the most wonderful birthday present of them all.