"And she will be perfect... What. The. Fuck.

"(and if Grandma hadn't actually seen me do whatever it was) then it was Lucinda who was smacked and locked in the punishment cupboard.

The relief at not getting punished never lasted long though. For the next couple of days (or however long it took grandma to remember she was in there- once, on one of the few occassions when I was caught red handed and couldn't blame Lucinda, I was stuck in there for three days) I'd imagine I could hear her sobbing in there. I always felt very guilty- no matter how much I told myself that, if anyone had to be locked in the cupboard, it was better for it to be Lucinda than me, because at least she could lie down in there, while I had to curl up in a way that made my legs hurt after only a few hours.

Most of the time, I was allowed to whatever I liked, as long as I didn't leave the attic during the day. At night, I was allowed to come down and eat. Grandma would lay out plates and cutlery for both me and Lucinda and give us bread and dripping with jam on toast for afters.

I used to get greedy and gobble up Lucinda's share as well- though I'd always worry that grandma would catch me.

This all makes me sound like an awful little brat, constantly pushing blame onto Lucinda and eating her food- but, really, I was just jealous.

Grandma always talked about how nice Lucinda was, how perfect. Sometimes we'd stay up, hours into the night, while she tried to get my hair to even slightly resemble her curling red locks. When I turned eight, she started giving me half as much food, saying I was "shooting up like a beanpole. You'll outgrow your clothes soon enough! Do you think I'm made of money? Why can't you be more like Lucinda?"

In that moment, I hated Lucinda as much as I loved her.

My last memory of Grandma is of her shrieking at me. Calling me "little cat!" and "devil spawn!" I just stood there holding Lucinda in one hand and the cracked remains of her china face in the other.

I still don't know if it was an accident- I don't remember if she slipped off the chair or if I pushed her- but I know what grandma thought. She picked up the kitchen broom and began hitting me with it, over and over, striking me across the face while I begged for mercy.

A neighbour heard my screams and called the police. A nice lady came and took me away, while the police officers talked to grandma.

I was sent to stay with 'Uncle' John and 'Auntie' Susan, then to Mike and Debbie, then to Carol and Jane. I didn't stay long.

I refused to use the toilet at first and cried all night and day. I scratched and bit anyone who tried to do my hair differently, or get me to wear different clothes, or anything that made me look less like Lucinda.

I told myself that, if I kept looking like Lucinda, grandma would love me again. Sadly the red hair dye I'd been using soon grew out and my hair reverted back to a mousy brown mop.

That was all years ago. Now I'm out of the care system and I've got my own flat and my own job. No doll though, Lucinda was damaged beyond repair and had to be thrown away.

I miss her every day, but I'm not going to be lonely for long. A few months ago, I hooked up with some guy at a bar and got pregnant.

I'm going to have a little girl. I'm so happy. I've already cleaned out one of the rooms for her.

I'm going to call her Lucinda. She will be perfect...

Huh u