So, apparently at Wool's Orphanage in London you get punished more severely for setting an animal on another orphan then apparently strangling another. Or maybe it was just because it was yet another incident involving Tom and someone getting hurt. They were taking this matter more seriously too - they seemed to think Tom was having delusions about being able to talk to snakes. If he didn't stop soon they would have him looked at professionally.

So he had decided to stop for a while now, stop what exactly - he didn't know but he was trying hard not to make odd things happen when he was angry or sad.

He sat down at the breakfast table with a bowl of what they called "porridge" but was just disgusting, it shouldn't really have a name. It may have been OK for the rest of the kids to eat but Tom was above such torture by food and would sneak food out of the kitchen during the day.

As the other kids were led to pray and what not, Tom made his way to the back of the line and broke off and hid inside a store cupboard until he heard their footsteps die away. He made his way silently to the kitchen and made a small gap with the door to check if the coast was clear. There was just one person in the kitchen, the dopey woman who never noticed that food went missing.

It was time for Tom to break his "odd things happening" rule.

This was yet another thing Tom could not explain, but he could move things without touching them at times, he would use this to get food without actually stepping foot into the kitchen. He slid down against the wall and put a foot between the door and the doorframe, he craned his neck so he could see the food and thought really hard, he saw some cakes on a tray and before he could blink two were coming towards him at great speed.

He caught them in both his hands, accidentally letting his foot slip and the door slam shut. He made a run for it down the nearest corridor, turned left and ran down the next one. He was running so fast he almost ran into Borris, a boy older than him but he wasn't as tall. Borris was skinny and boring.

'Tom! What are you doing? You're not supposed to have those.' said Borris, staring at the cakes in his hands.

'So what?' said Tom, looking down at him, his eyebrows raised.

'I'll have to tell on you Tom, you're breaking the rules again.' Borris made to leave but stopped suddenly buy Tom's grip on the back of his shirt. Tom pulled him backwards and stood intimidating in front of him, toe to toe. His right hand was free, and his left had two cakes piled on top of each other, he switched them quickly before he grabbed Borris.

'I can't let you do that now, Borris.' Tom said in a slick, sleek voice.

'But .. Bu-' Borris stammered.

'No.' was all Tom said. He took a cake in his right hand and slammed it into Borris's face. He did it with such force that icing and sponge wasn't the only thing creamed into his face, there was blood from his nose too. He kicked him to the floor with his foot and stood over him.

'Now, Borris.' he addressed Borris, smiling down on him. 'If you want to make sure I don't hurt you again … because I will. You'll own up to taking the cakes. Got it?'

'Y-yes, Tom …' he agreed, tears were spilling down his face, hot and stinging once they hit the cut on his nose.

'And you're to say nothing about me hurting you, because I didn't. You got that nasty cut whilst running away from the kitchen.'

'I-I-I did?'

'Yes,' said Tom, 'you did.' He looked down on the boy with loathing. 'Good boy.' he said, as if addressing a dog. Tom walked away laughing, a high pitched, evil, cackling laugh that rang down the halls and filled every ear that passed.