Bear.
The first time Tom had gotten a gift was on his fifth birthday. He had been, well, a particularly good boy that year. He stayed quiet; he didn't talk, he didn't cause trouble, he didn't hit the other children, he was good. And he got a reward for it - a new teddy bear, a completely new one, and not one of the second-hand ones some of the other kids received for Christmas or some other silly holiday. It was given to him by one of the matron's of the orphanage (he didn't know who, he had forgotten), and he had looked in awe as he unwrapped his present.
The bear had been completely new and completely his. For a whole week he had simply stared at it, lovingly, hugging it and cuddling it, keeping it safely close next to him. Every single night from then on he slept with his teddy bear, side by side, peacefully dosing off the night.
He enjoyed the company of his bear, and talked to it as if it was and actual, real person and not just a toy. Tom was not, and had never been, a social child, always preferring to be left alone. The other children didn't like him, either, and had never tried very hard to be his friend, always giving up at the first rejection of their friendship. And so Tom was bullied and hurt and made fun of, because children were cruel like that, because they didn't take rejection well, and they didn't want to try.
The bear was his only friend, and Tom loved it very dearly, even to go so far as to carry it everywhere he went regardless - because he didn't trust the other children to not be jealous of him and his new toy; and because he didn't trust them to not break his friend.
Tom shared his life, his thoughts, his feelings with his teddy bear in the cold seclusion of his room. Hugging it tightly against his chest as he sobbed, whenever he was punished for being bad, or bullied by the other children, or laughed at.
One day, his teddy bear spoke to him.
"You can talk." Tom stated. "You're not supposed to be able to talk. Teddy bears can't talk." Tom stared in awe his bear that he had owned for years now.
"Can't we? Well, then. I must be the only exception. Again. I feel so special." His bear had replied in a slightly bored drawl.
"Oh. Well, all right then." Tom said, frowning, holding his bear on his lap. "Why haven't you ever talked to me before?"
"I was sleeping." His bear replied, and left it at that. "So, your name is Tom, isn't it? I've heard the old lady outside call you that."
"Yes." Tom nodded.
"What's my name?" His bear asked. Tom blinked.
"Don't you have one?"
"Oh, well. No I don't think I do. Well, to be exact - I don't remember. Its been so long, felt so long, since someone had last talked to me."
"Oh. Well, then, what am I supposed to call you?"
"Well, what did you call me before I woke up?"
"Oh. Well - I've never actually given you a name. I didn't think that'd be necessary." Tom smiled sheepishly at his bear.
"Well why don't you give me one now?"
"D-Do you want me to?" Tom asked hesitantly.
"Well, why not?" His bear asked, sounding slightly amused.
"If you say so." Tom sniffed. "All right. From now on, you'll be... Harry."
"Harry?" His bear - now 'Harry' - repeated, sounding strangely amused. "All right. Harry it is."
Tom knew that bears didn't speak. But he liked to think that Harry liked to talk to him sometimes. "Wake up, Tom. Or you'll miss breakfast."
And comfort him when the other children were being mean to him. "It's all right, Tom. I'll always be here to protect you."
And tuck him in like the some of the matrons did to the younger children, but not him. Never him. "Good night, Tom. Sweet dreams."
Tom didn't know whether he was imagining these things or not. Tom was a lonely boy, and though he refused to believe it, he knew that in the back of his mind he was in dire need of some form of friendship.
Or, perhaps he was mad? Or that he was hallucinating; he had always had a very vivid imagination. But somehow he knew that when sometimes Harry moved and walked and talked, it was real, and not just his head playing tricks on him. Tom had always known that the moving - the talking - wasn't normal for a toy bear to do, but either way he kept it a secret from the matrons and the others, not wanting them to take away his friend. Besides, it wasn't like he was causing any harm keeping that fact a secret. Harry wouldn't hurt anyone. He, wasn't capable of doing so - literally. Harry could do no harm. And so Tom would keep his and Harry's secret.
Sadly, however, his secret wasn't to be kept. And so one day, when Tom was in his room, talking to Harry, Amy Benson, Dennis Bishop and Billy Stubbs barged in, along with Mrs. Cole.
When Mrs. Cole saw Tom talking to Harry, and Harry back, she immediately pushed Tom away, and took away his friend.
The next day Tom was taken to the local church, and the priest tried to exorcise him and Harry, calling him and Harry names. "Possessed... Unnatural... witchcraft... the devils work..."
When the exorcism ended a long hour later (even though it felt like days), Tom was shivering, sobbing, crying, feeling ill and sick, begging for them to stop, as he was forced to watch as his teddy bear, his friend, his only friend was burned in a large fire.
Tom was then sent back to the orphanage, still shivering, shaking, sobbing silently to himself, and thrust back into his room. And for the remainder of the day, he - for first time in a long time - cried. And for the first time in an even longer time, Harry - his teddy bear, the toy he loved so much - was not there to comfort him as he cried and sobbed and raged.
a/n started off as a drabble, turned into a one-shot.
kind of stupid, yes. Hahaha. i dunno it just kinda popped into my head one day.
Before you ask - Tom's 'teddy bear' is actually meant to be Harry. How Harry came to be inside a teddy bear I will leave up to your imagination. e v e /shot dead.