Doll (MikaYuu)

♦04♦ - Mother

I was around age seven, I believe. It was around the time where I was in my last year of attending public schools and my mother adorned me with nothing but love and education instead of fabrics and compliments. It was the only kind of love I ever wanted when I still knew was love was.

I forgot the occasion - I believe Thanksgiving - and Viníce and my mother were speaking just near me in my little isolated corner. A lot of my family were gathered in the living room and I was distant from the commotion, playing with the toys I had.

I was the correct definition of 'innocence' then, not something the media had painted me as. The 'innocence' they see me as now is sexual innocence, where I portray sexual pursuits with innocent façades. That is not innocence.

I was not a Jeunesse Doll then; I was far too young, and I worked for no companies until a year later in my life where I began to model for younger children's clothing at various companies for brief periods of time. I yearn for those days when I was glazed in peace and my mother was not ill.

I remember the two of them coming up to me, and I instantly wrapped my arms around my mother's legs as she stood, ignoring all of the toys I had in the corner. My mother was more important than any toy I had then.

Viníce was not anything then - she had a mediocre relationship with a guy who worked in a car dealership and she could not dare roam in the clothes she had today. She was actually a normal aunt back then. I wish my mother was aware of the betrayal she received a year from her later after I indulged in modeling.

My mother pulled me onto her lap as she sat on the couch, and I held her like she were my world, and she was. I had never met my father, and to this day, I still do not know of his existence. I thought I was a super special kid then, like I was the only child in the world bred from one parent. I thought I was a miracle.

I was not caked in the false French nature then, and everything was in its truest state. Life never felt so good.

My mother never bragged over me, either, like Viníce did to me in current day. My mother had bred me to believe I was beautiful and magnificent without words. She grew me up in ways that did not require words. She was that good of a mother.

"I can tell," Viníce began as she ran her fingers through my very long, blond hair. "You're going to be very very beautiful - something the world is going to worship you for."

At the time, I did not understand why she told me those words. My mother knew, and she educated me on it being a compliment, but she also taught me that compliments did not have worth unless I believed they were true. How would I know? I did not know my future! I was at a lost at such a vast compliment. I was so overwhelmed, I just giggled, covering my face as I usually did when I became baffled. I could tell my mother was not fond of Viníce, and I was not sure why. It was not because of the compliments she fed me, but she always seemed to 'have a way with seduction.'

I was a child. She could not seduce me, not with my mother right there. What would she seduce me for?

Months in planning, Viníce was already getting me into the business path of fashion using my appearance, with my mother as the hawk, for a slick way of money. I was tripped into so many offers in modeling that I thought were nothing but a benefit for all of us, and I had no problem with modeling. Viníce was only getting money and my mother's child was only being slowly departed from her. I did not know of any of this because I was being fed lies and my mother could not get through to me anymore.

She did not want me in modeling - she bred me to believe that I could be beautiful without modeling and boasting to the world. But when she fell ill, the money I was making from modeling was the only thing keeping her alive on her hospital bed.

So, I model... for her. I breathe for her. I sell myself for her. I gave up my life to give her one last push in the life that was hers.