He was overjoyed at his collection, a beautiful collaboration of dolls. His dolls.
Such lovely, porcelain dolls…
He played with them on a daily basis. He made them dance, made them fight, he even gave them humiliating tasks to do for him.
He always thought that they hated him for it, too. But he had no idea why… it was just a feeling of sorts. And whenever he'd walk by the dirty shelf he kept them on, there was one in particular that would always fall swiftly off and hit his head.
Now, this only stopped him for a little bit and usually he'd ignore it. The shelf was probably just slippery, anyway…
But then it became an everyday thing. That's when he got angry.
In frustration, he grabbed said doll and twisted its neck.
Twisted and twisted, the child's knuckles turned white at his efforts.
And then he gripped its soft body with both hands and smashed its head against the side of his bed.
The doll's smooth porcelain face shattered and the pieces lay upon the floor, it's sanguine eyes staring into the darkness…
This would be a reminder to others. You couldn't try to defy your owner, the one that controls your life's events…
And he could do anything he damn well pleased to them, mind you.
They were his dolls.
Such lovely, porcelain dolls…
A/N: Ooh, guess who it is! -Sigh- I actually think that this is probably a cliché storyline, but I thought I'd give it a try. My mind is still warped from listening to the song"Doctor Jones" on repeat for an hour, also…
Oh poo, I forgot the disclaimer:
I do not own InuYasha for it belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, not me.