Memories
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Marionette sat in his box, legs pulled to his chest and tears dripping down his face.
He remembered, and it hurt.
And the more he tried to forget, to move on, it stuck in his mind like honey to fur.
He didn't want to remember; he wanted to forget, he wanted it to go away. To never come back.
Marionette sobbed afresh as he remembered trailing after his brother, begging for love and attention. Not being treated like a real human being, instead cast away like an old toy and terrorized when he dared show his face.
"Doll-face," a voice whispered in his ear.
Memories burst forth like a dam, the golden bear plushie that he found thrown away in a mud puddle one day. The golden bear that he clutched to his chest in tears, comforting words floating to his ears and soothing his fears...
"Goldie..." He whined, hands groping out instinctively for the bear who helped him in times like this.
Marionette peeked out of his hands when he didn't find the plushie to see a large golden bear standing in front of him, white on black eyes wide and teary. The puppet let out a strangled noise, lurching forward ungracefully and cuddling up to the bear resembling his friend.
"Shh, it'll be okay..." Goldie whispered, a heavy furry paw rubbing gentle circles on a thin fabric-covered back. Marionette shook his head, a sniffle escaping his throat. "How do you know that? It's not okay... I can't forget... Gold-ieee..."
The bear hummed, nuzzling his bloodstained muzzle against Marionette's cheek. "Because I'm here, baby doll. I'll help you forget, I promise..."
Marionette smiled through the tears, because he knew it was true.