Dolly, the staring dolly part 3πŸ•·β™¦β˜ 

My mom opened the window, and grabbed her. My mom ran out of my room and threw Polly in the fireplace.

It was on my tenth birthday when I got the courage to ask my mom what Polly was doing, and what had happened to me. She said that my grandmother got Polly for free, from a woman that seemed crazy. Her daughter died days before she got rid of the doll. My mom showed me the research she did, and it turned out that the previous eight owners of the doll were all killed in various ways. The first killed was one year old, the second was two years old, the third was three years, the fourth was four years, the fifth was five years, the sixth was six years, the seventh was seven years, and then there was me. I was the only one to survive.

I am fine now, after much counseling and bed rest, unlike the unlucky seven girls who came across Polly the staring dolly, which is what my family has called her to this day.