Erika's eyebrows furrowed as she glanced down at the floor. The
words the voices had said, along with many others she'd heard long
before, swirled around in her head.
Molly ran to her house to get her things so she could live with the
doll’s. “Excuse me! I just need to grab a few things! She said
running into her house, and grabbing all of her money, clothes, art
supplies, and restoration supplies.
Crybaby! Brat! Aww, what's wrong? Gonna go run off
and cry to your parents?
Erika's fists clenched as tears threatened to spill. Why? Why was
it she was targeted like this, by people she didn't even kn- .Her
eyes widened as a realization dawned on her.
"H-how do you know I'm a baby?" She said, looking up towards the
source of the voice. "How do you know I'm pathetic? You
don't even know me!"
"You know what?" Erika called out. "So maybe I'm a bit too
sensitive. So maybe I can be immature. I'd rather be a crybaby,
than a bully like you!" She panted as she tried to catch her
breath, and figure out where her sudden surge of confidence had
come from.
Near where some of the group was, an old patchwork Appletun doll,
about the same size as the Pokémon it was sewn to resemble, lay
lifelessly on a table. Its fabric was faded, it was torn in some
places, it seemed to have been used as a pincushion at some point
during its existence, and the whole thing seemed like it was
falling apart at the seams.