In her dreams, Sarah Jane became porcelain.

She stood on a wooden shelf, motionless, her tiny arms and legs bound by invisible strings. Across the room, Jezebeth grinned, towering over her like a giant.

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“Oops,” Jezebeth said, knocking Sarah Jane off the shelf with a careless hand.

Sarah Jane hit the floor and shattered. Her screams filled the air, but no one heard. Her father’s hands appeared, gathering her broken pieces and gluing them back together. She begged him to stop, but he smiled as if she were no more than a toy.

The dream repeated night after night. Each time, the cracks on her porcelain body grew deeper.