Wooden doll

The wooden doll sat in the corner of the room; pale, with eyes that no longer had light. She had placed her withered hands on her stomach and stared at the ground that was never warm. The people around her said she was emotionless, they said she was wood and that wood had no heart. They said her words were fake and they even considered the cracks on her body a sign of sin. Every lie that came out of their mouths drove into her like a new nail. She had nothing to say in defense. Her mouth had been closed from the start. She could only hear. Hear how they changed her story, how they denied her old kindnesses, and how they even accused her shadow. At night, when the room was empty, the sound of her wood cracking grew louder. Not from the dry air; from the weight of the words that no longer had room. Her heart was broken; A heart that no one believed existed. The wooden doll stood there; silent, accused, and alone. And those who stood around it still thought that wood never cried.