Note: This drabble is based off of my other fanfic "Nothing Sacred", but can probably be read separately. In other words, there will be hints of sexual abuse and violence on a child in this drabble. If you can't handle that, then I suggest you move back. If you are brave, then go ahead.

(Also, I won't stop anyone from flaming me for this, because I understand how disturbing this might be.)


~Sit and Watch~

As I stay on this high shelf, I sit and watch. It's what I do. I can't do anything else, no matter how much I want to.

And right now, as that man lays a static Christopher Robin down on a dirty bed, I really, really want to.

But I can't. I have a consciousness, a mind, and a soul—Christopher Robin's imagination was strong enough to give me that.

However, no matter how real I am to this little boy in his mind, I cannot move, nor can I speak, in real life—like how I can in those imaginary games he and I play in the Hundred Acre Wood, with all of our friends…

It gets worse though. It's what I hear that makes me want to act like a real bear—to pounce on my owner's tormentor, and tear out his throat with my teeth.

"If you're good tonight Christopher Robin, I'll let you and Pooh go."

It's the promise he says every night before he touches my Christopher Robin. He never goes through with it, and he never will. He will never let the two of us go, or at least, not Christopher Robin.

The only way that Christopher Robin can escape is either with someone finding him in time, that man's death, or…Christopher's own death.

I may be the Bear of Very Little Brain, but even I am aware of this.

Christopher Robin, however, is still naïve—despite all of the pain and torment he's gone through with this man. He still believes in the hope that this man will release the two of us once he's satisfied with violating the poor boy's body. He holds onto that hope desperately, because it's the only thing keeping him alive...

For now.

That's why, after he briefly glances up at me with dull buttercream eyes, he faces the man and says in such an emotionless, dead voice:

"…Okay."

And I watch it all happen, because I can't do anything else…

Scream.

Groan.

Sob.

Pooh Bear...

No matter how much I want to.


I'm starting to think I need professional help. This is getting a little creepy for even me, and I typed the damn thing.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go cuddle my own Pooh Bear...