Nine years. [i]Nine years[/i]. That was how long they had stuck around the girl. Only on her tenth birthday, was the first time they had saw her. They watched her behind those soulless eyes; empty eye-sockets, cerulean, and ocean-blue. Through these eyes, there was a sense behind their two-inch bodies. And every move she made, was taken in by those seemingly-soulless eyes. Questions. [i]Questions.[/i] They were the first thing they had thought when their eyes met with the five-foot girl. Every time they had been picked up, put down, and moved around, they swore there was something between humans and their toys. As far as they knew her, she was theirs; the only person who has ever held them, apart from the girl's mother. No other human talked to her; no one said "hello" to her. Then, there was belief: She chose [b]them[/b], the only companions who have ever listened to her, but never (couldn't) speak back. But, somehow, Rachel understood them. It was a fair trade: She understood them, they return the favor. But, sometimes, it felt like it was never enough. 

Sometimes, they just wished to [b]experience[/b] her, at great lengths.