text: You named me Ella and that was a beautiful word to be called. With hand-carved arms and a manufactured head, I was made for little girls like you. But you aren't a little girl anymore and that's why I no longer see you. I strived to grow, to develop, to age as you did; but what can I do when you have matured beyond the need for childish goods? It is upsetting how years can change a person, especially someone like you. I remember swinging in your arms the first day we met and feeling your heartbeat more times than I could count. When you held me tight during those awful, thunderous nights, I could pretend that it was my heart beating, too. And the safety of those warm blankets and hugs that saw us through to the morning without those horrible nightmares of yours. I know how much they frightened you, and if I could smile, you would have seen how I loved to be your miniature guardian. I often wonder if you recall those nights. If it pleases you at all to travel back in time and relive those memories as I do every day. Being a grown-up must be very tough - you don't seem to have any time to play anymore. In fact, it's been nearly three years since you last opened this bag. I miss seeing you. You don't even stop to wipe the dust off me anymore, and it's starting to build. Was it something that I did to upset you? I can't think of what it could be. I'm a terrific listener and your secrets were always safe with me. If I ever hurt you, I am truly sorry. But I believe it is you that has hurt me, and I don't get an apology. Which is okay, but I could really use you right now; to share the little bit of Sophie time that only I got to experience - moments that I still hold dear to my hollow chest, and cherish. Pig seems to be doing well; he doesn't appear to mind the silence - you know what he's like, though. Always was one to stay in the corner while the others had fun. I think he was more obsessed with counting his coins than play time. However, Sheep isn't holding as strong. She and Dino were arguing the other day about ripping open this thin, black plastic and coming to see you personally; but I reminded them that we shouldn't. Although we could if we wanted to - you didn't make this abyss very secure, you know. And some of us aren't so patient. Fourteen years old you were when we last spoke. The events of that day still project themselves onto the nothing that I have to see with each awakening. Though, truth be told, we never really went to sleep when you did - I can't close my eyes. And neither can Pig, nor Sheep or Dino. But our painted eyes eventually became accustomed to the void that envelops our entire existence, and, in my more sane-less nights, I see you there in front of me - dancing. Dancing and skipping and singing! Oh, how exceptional you were at singing for such a young age! Karaoke night was a favourite of mine, and Dino's, too! Sheep could never quite get that stutter under control. It's a shame that you stopped using your voice like that. I may be in the attic but I would know when my Sophie was singing! You made all of us so proud. I've heard that you aren't doing too well in school anymore. What happened? Last I saw you, a future of being a teacher was sparkling in your eye! Or was it an actress? Or a model? You were going to be so many things! We all believed in you! Pig would have tippled on his plump side with all the coins you'd present to him. And Sheep, Dino and I would have enjoyed just watching the world by your side. It is strange that you seemed to lose interest in a lot of subjects around the same time - not just with me. What is it with growing up that you all crave so much? Why can't you remain the same as we do? It doesn't look like a whole lot of fun to be a teenager, something you repeatedly whispered to me that you couldn't wait to be. But how fun it would be for you to join us in this bag. Even just for one day. Maybe forever. I don't have much for us to do in terms of games, but we all enjoy a good chat in the middle of the night. Mainly about you. Maybe you've heard us. I'm not sure if your eyes would adjust to being in this darkness - ours haven't. But your vision will be better, I think. It could be even better again if you always kept them open like we do. Just thinking about you being in here with us is making me giddy! Butterflies, Sophie! They are called butterflies! I remember you telling me this and thinking it was so silly. But that's what they are, I suppose - and I don't get them when I think of anyone else. I don't really feel much at all when I'm not thinking of you. I was asked the other day from a particularly sad Sheep, "Ella, what will we do if one day she really does come back? How do we act or what do we say? I feel like I want to cry just thinking about it." And I answered her honestly, "I don't know." After the first few months, I never had a positive thought about my future with you again. So, it was a little bit out of the blue when she brought up a scenario to me of which I hadn't considered in years. She is always the optimist, though. And I usually partake in her unrealistic hopes because it doesn't cost a thing to be kind - *Sophie -* and making her happy makes me happy in turn. But something about that question churned in my lumber and stuck to my empty head; and for once, I snapped. "I never thought it would be me that had to say goodbye, Sheep! She is older now and has no use for things such as us. I wanted to wait here for her, right where she left us, in case she ever got scared and wanted to return, even for just a little play time when she needed it most in her stressful adult life. But I am not expecting much from her anymore. I know Sophie is older, but so am I. The problem is, she can move on - but I cannot" Sheep turned back to her side of the black and began to cry. I shouldn't have been so blunt with her, but it is really because of you that this is happening. I felt Dino raise a tiny arm and place it over Sheep's now ragged and filthy wool, consoling her as he has done on so many occasions. And to my left, I touched a familiar object of something long and sharp. I don't know what they are called, but I know what they are used for. And a devious thought now washed over me - a thought that had plagued me for some time now. I turned to face Dino and Sheep, my pencil straight lips now able to curve, and said with a joyous affliction, "You know what? You were right. Let's pay her a visit.