The Forgotten Doll

Being in a box in a closet alone is like being buried alive. It is silent outside the closet; all you can hear is the scratching of the family cat walking around and the bang of car doors down in the street. Because you cannot hear any movement except for the cat in the house, you assume everyone else is asleep. If only you could sleep. It's freezing. Someone apparently forgot to turn on the heat before they went to bed. Although you have already tried a million times, you push on the top of the box trying to open it. No luck. The duct tape won't come free.  Suddenly, you hear another sound, a kid in the room next to your closet is talking in their sleep. For others, this might be comforting, knowing that there are other people around. For you, however, it only makes you wish you could dream, too. Although you really would only have one memory before the box to dream about.  
    When you first met the kid, they were so excited to meet you. They ran around showing you to their relatives, telling them to look and see the new doll. A few months later, the family moved and you were left, forgotten, in a box. Maybe the kid actually just forgot about you, or maybe they did this on purpose, because they were scared and knew you were alive.