I am art. Meant to be looked at, admired, not touched.

But come close, see the strokes that make me up, the colors of my Maker.

My body a portrait, sketched from dust, beautiful in the eyes of man.

Holy is the canvas I was born on, woven from love, brushed with care.

I am not meant to be touched, but look, and see that I am a masterpiece.

I’m not a toy to be used I’m not some pawn in your game I’m not something you can play with, And throw away when you’re done with me I’m better than that I’m owed more than that.

I’ve worked too hard on myself To be a toy in someone’s game.

You can try your best But don’t be mistaken, I don’t fall for the same trick twice.

You can try it, But if you do Just know you’ll have hell headed your way.

I am not a toy to be used, I’m a toy to be played with, a toy to be loved. I was made for you.

You played with me for a while, Till I was weary and tired, Before discarding me in the pile. Now I can justify the word choice of used, Even though I’d neglected to use it at all.

Is this what I was made for? Wind me up like clockwork. The same story, Over and over again. Someone picks me up, Has their fun, Now I’m facedown in the dirt again.

I’m pretty, I’m perfect, I’m nobody’s favorite… I’m nobody’s beloved… Have I been asking for it? Must be my fault, Isn’t it? It’s always my fault, Isn’t it?

Every other girl, Every other child, They just led me to you. I’m broken in two.

I did what I’m made for. She said this is what I’m made for. I don’t know who she is anymore. I don’t know where I begin.

Perhaps I’m not a toy after all. Perhaps there is more for me, Than all you led me to believe. Perhaps I’m not a toy after all, I was just used.

Bay adjusted the headphones on her head and continued down the sidewalk. She gripped the hand in hers tighter.

"You're digging your nails in again." Zeke flinched.

Bay slowly let go. "Sorry."

"Babe, your house is right here. Are you feeling okay?" Zeke stopped and asked.

Bay removed her headphones and put them away distractedly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Bye." she went to her door and inside, up the stairs, and shut her door.

She slipped her backpack off and lay on her bed. The whirring of her fan annoyed her quickly and she went back downstairs for a snack.

Her mother emerged from her room with sleepy eyes. "Oh, you're back Bay." she rolled her eyes. "Too bad."

Bay opened the refrigerator door and blocked her out. "Good to see you too mom."

"Don't block me like that! It is rude and very disrespectful!" her mom shouted. "Bay, get back here young lady!"

Bay turned around and slammed her hand on the table. "What the fuck do you want mom?"

"That's it! You have no right to speak or treat me this way ever!" she stormed over and slapped Bay hard.

Bay staggered back and headed to the stairs. "No wonder Dad left." she sprinted up the rest of the way with tears streaming from her eyes.

Her mom collapsed on the floor with a flood of years and sobs.

Bay slammed her door and sat on her windowsill. "Fucking worst mom ever." she sighed.

"You need to tell someone what's she's doing to you, Bay. Nothings going to stop if you don't." Zeke whispered.

"But if I do, they'll put her in jail. She deserves more after Dad left." Bay sighed.

"If you do this, I'll convince my mom to let you stay until she's better, promise." Zeke kissed her forehead.

"That's why you're the best boyfriend." Bay smiled.

Zeke laughed. "Come on, we have to get to class now."

The rest of the day zoomed by. Bay exited her last class. She followed the crowd like always and walked home. She pulled her phone out and sent Zeke a quick text.

Bay went into the house and ignored her mom moaning over another guy.

"Hey, Bay. Come meet Pete." her mom demanded when she noticed her daughter.

Bay growled but headed over cautiously. "Names Bay." she said through gritted teeth.

"Pete." Pete smiled. "You know, if I wasn't hooking up with your mother, I might be with you." he reached down and stroaked her thigh.

Bay growled again and slapped his hand. "Stick with my fucking mom will you?" she stormed upstairs to her room.

Bay pulled her phone out again but Zeke hadn't replied to her text. She went back downstairs and disgustedly looked away from Pete and her mom. She unlocked the front door and left.

Bay walked all the way to Zeke's house and knocked on his door.

His mom answered. "Oh, Bay it's you. Please, come in." she stepped out of the way.

"Thank you." Bay slipped inside and sat on the couch.

"What's troubling you, darling?" Zeke's mom asked.

"Zeke didn't answer my text like he usually does. Did he come home?" Bay asked.

"No, no, he didn't. I was hoping you would know where he was." his mom whispered.

"I'm sorry for bothering you. I'll leave now." Bay got up off the couch and went to the door.

"No, wait. Zeke told me you were having mom problems again. You're welcome to stay here for a few days if you would like." his mom smiled.

Bay took a breath of relief. "Thank you so much. I'd kill myself if I have to see my mom moaning over another disgusting guy."

"Yes, well, help yourself to snacks and the TV. I'll be making dinner soon." his mom slowly walked away.

Bay switched the TV on and lay on the couch. "Where are you, Zeke?"

The next day when Bay got up, fresh breakfast was on the little island in the center of the kitchen. She got up and stretched. She went to the island and noticed a post-it nearby.

Hello Bay. I see you're reading my note. Very good. I just wanted to say, you're not safe anymore. I know what you are to become, and cannot let you. I'm truly sorry. Signed, Your Loving Boyfriend or Vex.

"Glad you saw my note, Bay." Vex's voice sounded behind her. "Now, allow me to get rid of you."

Bay grabbed the plate of food and swung it behind her into Vex's face. She fell off her chair and backed away from him.

"Delicious, but unfortunately, this means I just need to go the harder way to get you." he turned toward her.

Bay backed away into a wall and covered her head with her arm.

A shout filled her ears as Zeke's mom attacked her son. "Get out of here, Bay. Become what you are meant to."

Bay uncovered her face and scrambled out of the house.

"No!" Vex screamed. "Let me go!"

"Son, don't let your job get in the way of love!" his mom shouted.

Vex stood up straighter and turned his head to her. "This isn't a job, it's an honor." he flung her off. "I'm sorry, mom." he turned his head back around and flew off.

His mom was left lying there. She groaned. "You have no idea what's coming, my dear son." her body grew smaller until all that was left was a tiny spider.

Bay kicked a pebble into the river. "Of course Zeke is a villain." she slumped down on a patch of grass.

The river slowly flowed by. A tiny spider crawled out from some rocks and slowly went over to Bay's hand. It slipped on her hand and bit down.

There wasn't the line in here yet, but we'll get there in the next part, promise.

I clench my teeth and hold back the sob urging to escape my throat. A cackling laugh is loud behind me. My fists are formed into white balls, scrubbing the floor with a damp sponge sprinkled with tiny bubbles. My throat is tight and my breath heavy. Sisters argue over who the prince will like more, who he will chose. A single tear drops on the wet floor, and the cackle grows louder.

"The little girl is crying!" stepmother cries. She took away my father, she took away my freedom, she took away my life.

The sisters join in on the hysterical laugh, stopping their dirty shoe on the floor I have scrubbed for hours. The whole house is spotless, thanks to me, but they always find a mistake. Something wrong, to tell me I'm wrong. I am a thing to them, a maid, a toy to play with.

"Go clean up that mess, Cinder," stepmother spits.

Father and mother named me Ella, but stepmother calls me Cinder. It's not my name, it's not my mess to clean, but it is my life. She has no respect, and her daughters have even less.

I scrub the dirty shoe markers until the floor shines brighter than ever before. My arms are sore and my back needs a stretch. I get up to grab a drink of water when I notice my warn dress has another hole.

It use to be a beautiful dress, one of the only things left from my mother. She was a pretty and fair woman, loved by most. Especially my father. I would never have come to the conclusion that this lovely dress worn my a lovely woman would become a maids dress. Old, ragged, torn, the dress was. The pretty white apron never helped, and got just as dirty as the dress did.

The first hole made me fuming at my new stepmother, but father held me back. My jaw went stiff and I hoped the tears wouldn't fall. Ever since then the anger has been building up inside of me like an egyptian pyramid, and I'm almost at the top. But I never tip over the edge, I handle my posture with with grace and class, like any other maid would.

"The ball is tomorrow and you girls still don't have your shoes! All this fighting has come to nothing if neither of you can go!"

"Sorry."

"Yeah, sorry."

"I've got my shoes from the last ball we went to, and I think they will match my dress," the first sister snorts.

"I'm going to the boutique today to find some," the second sister brags.

"All right girls. As long as the prince chooses one of you. Then we will become rich. Your stepfather doesn't make a dime, but at least he own this house. And we have a free little maid."

"Yeah it's really great."

"Yeah I like having a maid who does what I want."

A switch flips inside of me but I don't show it. My father truly loves my stepmother, and she is just here for his house. I long for the urge to tell father, but he is on a trip by hourse for at least another week.

"Cinder?"

"Yes stepmother?"

"Don't say a word. And get back to scrubbing. I see a hair of dust by the chair. Clean it up."

I scrub and scrub, and do some more scrubbing until I don't think stepmother could find anything wrong with it. But when I head to my room, I still ask if I need to scrub more.

"Stepmother? May I be done-"

"Cinder?"

"Yes stepmother?"

"Shut up. And go scrub some more."

"But-"

"Cinder?"

"Yes stepmother?"

"Shut up!"

Her abrupt yelling forced me to silence, and my rag moved in fast motions across the floor. I, once again, had finished. This time I didn't tell stepmother and simply went to my room. It was in the attic, for all the other room were in use. Every once in a while, little birds come to the attic window. I sing with their twiddly chirps, and all my anger flushes down.

The next day is a repeat of today. Arguing, the ball, scrubbing, scrubbing, and some more scrubbing. Most days are like this, filled with boredom and anger and sadness and rage.

I promise I will make a part two, I just had this idea and now that I'm up to this point, I have writers block.

“I am not a toy to be used.” Kira stated calmly. She hated the feeling of being played with. Like she was a brand new toy and toddler just got for their birthday. Kayd looked at her apologetically. Did he really make her feel like he had been using her? He never thought of her as an object to use. She was his world. Everything that led to this moment was because of her. She saved him. “Kira,” Kayd took a step closer, inspecting the beautiful curves of her body. Admiring her dark brown eyes that started back at him.” I never wanted to hurt you.” Kira stared into his eyes, Judging his face. His jaw structure was a perfect straight line, a square almost. He brown hair shagged just above his eyebrows so you could barely see the freckles on his forehead. Of course she knew about his freckles. She knew just about every flaw Kayd sees in himself. Kira liked the freckles on his face, scattered perfectly. She had thought that if they ever had children they were to be the most beautiful kids because of his traits. Maybe Kira had been stuck in Hell for to long. She forgot what it felt like to be treated right. He saved her. “Kira,” Kayd stepped even closer, he hands now cupped around her face,”I love you.” He studied her face. Her reaction was calm and complete. A faint smile drew upon her face,”I love you too.” Kira wasn’t one to show her emotions well. Though she had plenty of them. Kira felt as if she needed to stay independent and not bother anyone else with her burdens. This worried Kayd since he could always tell when something was wrong. Even when nobody else saw the subtle look in her eyes when she was upset, Kayd did. Somehow he noticed every part of Kira that most didn’t. She liked knowing that when no one else cared, he was there for her. Kayd looked deep into her eyes. He couldn’t not focus on her beautiful brown eyes. It was like staring into a void, drawing you deeper and deeper each time you tried to look away. But Kayd never wanted to looke away from her eyes. Against all the bad things Kira conjured up in her mind, she kissed him. She propped up onto her tippy toes so she could reach his perfect plump lips. He kissed her back, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her off the ground. Kira never wanted to be released from his arms wrapped around her. She felt safe when he held her. Something she hadn’t felt in a while. Kayd thought he could get used to this. Holding her in his arms. He was larger then her by quite a bit as she was a petite girl. He liked that she was small so he could fit her into his arms. He liked that she felt safe and comfortable with him after everything she’d been through. After they broke out of the kiss they just looked into each others eyes. After all, it was what they both admired the most about one another.

Gerrold was known for one thing: his realistic doll-making skills. His entire life was lived in his family basement, where he was rumored to have a thorough workshop and prototypes for all types of dolls, even ones he hadn’t sold. His speciality was puppets; carving their realistic faces made him smile, as if they were his friends. He could craft them however he wished and that artistic freedom was hard to come by. The feeling that came with it was hard to come by, as well. That was why it was whispered, for over forty years, he never left his basement. A patron, an old family friend who used to attend dinners with Gerrold’s parents, would come and pick up the dolls to be sold in toy and puppet shops. What Gerrold did with the money was unknown.

He was currently working on a particularly special puppet, one that meant a lot to him. The wooden figure was 4 feet tall when upright, and split down the middle to have two distinct faces and bodies, one male and one female. The left side wore a suit and the right side wore a dress. If you had ever seen Gerrold’s parents, you’d know immediately that it was them. His artistry made that very clear.

One night, he woke to his hands bound above his head. He struggled and found that his legs were tied to his bedframe. It was no use screaming for help; nobody lived here and no one outside would hear from the basement. He calmed his breathing and waited … waited until the puppet he had been working on strode towards him, strings trailing behind its wooden frame, legs jangling and arms wobbling. The side resembling his father held a small carving knife; the side resembling his mother held a thumbtack. Their faces were held in permanent smile and their jaws clacked as they walked.

Gerrold gulped. “What is this? What are you going to do to me? I made you!”

The puppet continued walking on, jumping on the bedframe and landing on Gerrold’s chest. The thumbtack was driven into his chest and he groaned.

“I am not a toy to be used!” He shouted, heart pounding.

“Oh, but you are exactly that, our boy,” the puppet somehow spoke from its toothless mouth and raised the carving knife above Gerrold’s frightened, helpless eyes.

i am not a toy to be used i am not yours to use at all.

i am not a game to be played i am not yours to play at all.

i am not glass to be broken i am not yours to break at all.

but i am still used i am still played and i am still broken each and every time.

I can be a toy. Just to be used.

Or I can be a game. Just to be played.

I could be a girl. Just to be controlled.

I’ll be a pet. I’ll be a song. I’ll be whatever you want.

Objects. Toys. Games. Girls.

What do they mean really? I am just an object to you. Ha. Object.

Yeah, I’m just an object. I’m not a girl, With a personality. Feelings. A life.

Go ahead, use me. I’m just an object, aren’t I?

You poke and prod

You taunt and laugh

But I am not a toy to be used

You show me off

To all your friends

But I am not a toy to be used

I have a life

I have a dream

I will walk the road of life

Leaving you behind

I am not a toy to be used

You think that I’m heartbroken

Ha! This is the best day of my life

You think I miss you

Nah, I’m partying tonight

I won’t be poked

I won’t be proded

Because I’m not a toy to be used