Rory examined the doll in front of him.
The lifeless holes lacked the compassion and beauty of Amy's enchanting eyes. The dishevelled, lank hair barely covering the doll's head, a far cry from his wife's gorgeous red hair that cascaded down her shoulders in sort waves. The doll's features were small and clustered together on the doll's face, giving the doll a wide forehead of blotched, discoloured skin.
Rory couldn't bear to call this wretched creature his wife. No, this soulless, heartless beast was far from Amy's thoughtful, caring, enthusiastic self. This creature was no more than a mere, pitiful ghost of his wife.
The tears began pooling in his eyes.
"Oh Amy, how did could I have ever let this become of you?"