Dear old Gemma thought she had it all, until she found out she didn’t. Its funny the process and the transition, Gemma was nothing but a doll living her dream. Until her hair started falling. The girl tried fixing Gemma’s hair putting pastes and painful chemicals. And Gemma was fine again. Or so she thought. It was one of those days, those awful summer days. The girl’s house was filled with migrating guests there were fans set up, coolers blowing everyone’s hair except for Gemma’s. The bright colours and yellow drinks and loud laughter. And Gemma was taking it all in, but she didn’t know of the horrors approaching her.  A little boy probably younger than the girl had come running and knocked Gemma off the table. He picked her up and screwed her head off. And as she lay crying inward he searched Gemma with his ugly fingers, smeared her with his Cerelac fingers. Gemma’s girl picked her up got angry at the boy but he was only three he didn’t know what he was doing. The girl washed Gemma and washed and washed but the marks remained and her head loosened. But the girl fixed it back up. Gemma woke up at nights terrified and scared but the girl was there protecting her. Gemma passed the years witnessing her deterioration. One by one the list went on sometimes it was an arm, sometimes it was her loose head, but Gemma managed to survive. She counted days and years until she was covered in dust, sometimes the girl made her new dresses and polished her up. And Gemma liked the attention, but soon it was just her and the scent of cerelac and nail polish on her skin. But Gemma hoped for the best. So she survived. 8964 copyright protection400ＰＥＮＡＮＡsTIcZJurHK 維尼

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