The curly blonde hair, the clear glassy eyes, the porcelain features. The very thought of that doll made Phineas uneasy.

He had thrown that very doll at the wall and watched it shatter into a million fragile pieces.
It was the favorite of her many dolls. The one she’d named Vanessa.

His daughter would be sad. He knew this and still he destroyed it. Knowing it was her most prized of her collection. The one her now deceased Grand mom bought her from Spain two years ago.

Everywhere that Jillian went, that doll would be carried along.

How could a grown man, a father, be so jealous of a doll, an inanimate object?

She talked to ‘it’ like it was real. How he hated that doll, despised it. It’s eyes would mock him. He was certain that the doll thought he was a rotten father.

Phineas could not look at the pile of shattered doll , tangles bits of stringy hair.

The guilt he felt. Would Jillian ever forgive him?
He got out glue and tried to mend what he had broken before his daughter saw what he had done.