Being on the shelf makes me feel degraded. I don't belong here. Or maybe I do. I am a doll, after all. No one is around at the time, so I take liberty to sigh heavily. The toys around me are smiling and friendly, if they could talk, I assume that is all they would be doing. Happy toys…

I fucking hate happy toys…

***

The little boy was up early. His mother was still sleeping peacefully in her bed. It had been three months since he had last seen his father. Usually, he would be up with Dad, having "man-to-man talks" as his father used to say. Sometimes, if his mother was still sleeping, he and his father would make her breakfast as a surprise for when she woke up.

He was making breakfast alone now. His father was dead.

He was told it was a car accident. Too bloody for him to see, his mother had told him. He cried. To him, it didn't matter. He would have wanted to say good-bye to his Daddy one more time. He wiped away tears before they fell in his mother's cereal bowl. Trying to refocus his thoughts, he turned to the television, which was showing a re-run of a Good Guys episode. The doll's happiness made him feel angry, like the doll had something he was missing. At the same time, it made him want to have it; the Good Guy seemed nice enough, surely whatever joy he had he would share with the boy, wouldn't he?

Wouldn't he?

He poured the milk in slowly, careful not to spill on the counter. You're starting to look like your old man, buddy… His father's voice still rang in his head as he carried his mother's breakfast to her room. "Mommy," he said, trying to drown out old memories. "Mommy, wake up…" His mother was so still, could she be…

"Mommy!" he cried more urgently. Mrs. Barclay woke to the sound of her son. He sounded worried, desperate even. Was the house on fire? She sat up sleepily. "What… what is it, Andy?" she muffled out. He looked relieved. (Sometimes, she really worried about her son.) He smiled. "I made you breakfast, Mommy," he chirped proudly. She looked at the clock. 6:30. She could still sleep an hour before having to get up for work…

She bravely smiled back at her adoring child. "Oh… thank you so much, honey," she said, tucking stray hairs behind his ear. She took a spoonful of the soggy cornflakes. As she watched her son standing there, something ate at her mind. Today, something was today, wasn't it? Something special. Her mind opened up slowly as she began to wake. Of course!

Putting her bowl on the side table, she grasped her son's shoulders. "Guess what day it is?" she asked. Andy's eyes widened with a smile. "My… my birthday," he whispered happily. Mrs. Barclay grinned. "That's right, sweetheart. And you know what? Mommy got you a present…" The expression on her son's face was endearing; he looked so much like his father. Hoping her son would be pleased with what she had managed to get him, the 27 year old slowly led him toward the small closet. Money was so hard to achieve these days.

Andy was looking at the box. It had the right shape, the right size. He was anticipating what was inside. Could it possibly be..? He wasn't sure. Opening the package anxiously, his heart raced with expectance. Unfortunately, it wasn't what he had hoped for. The Good Guys logo was plain as day on the box, but it was as set of tools. He sighed, trying hard to contain his disappointment.
Mrs. Barclay knew, of course. She was his mother, after all. Try as he might, Andy could not hide the feelings he had from his mother. Unfortunately, there was nothing either one of them could do. Mrs. Barclay leaned down and hugged her son sympathetically. "I'm sorry honey," she said. "I know that you wanted…" Andy looked up at his mother and smiled. He knew it would do no good to trouble her with what he did or did not want. He was man of the house now. He had to be responsible.

Even if it meant giving up childish dreams.

"It's OK, Mommy," he somehow managed to choke out. He stretched his smile wider; made himself more convincing to her- and to himself. "I like these too. " Pulling out the plastic hammer, he pretended to fix the broken table leg. "See?" Mrs. Barclay smiled back at her son, but inside she was not convinced of her son's happiness. Still he continued on, facing the table; this way he didn't have to put up an exaggerated smile.

Mrs. Barclay sighed softly to herself. It was 7:45. She had to get to work. "Oh, Andy," she muttered to herself. "I would get you that doll if I could."

The bells in the shop ringing are unpleasant in my ears. Is it morning already?
Carefully I open my eyes. The shopkeeper is limping his way to the door. There's some woman with short red hair, smiling and laughing. Is she pointing at me? The shopkeeper is coming towards me.

Don't touch me…

***
Mrs. Barclay rubbed her eyes tiredly at the computer screen. The figures were blurring in front of her, and she couldn't seem to concentrate on the calculations. But she had to finish these. Her boss- and all the other clients- needed their paycheck. SHE needed her paycheck. But all those blurs…

A knock on her wall surprised her. She jumped and turned, expecting to see Mr. Daylee, her boss. Instead, she saw Maggie Peterson with a large grin on her face. "Oh, Karen!" she sang as she poked her head into Mrs. Barclay's compartment. Mrs. Barclay smiled back wearily at her friend. "Hello, Maggie. It's nice seeing you so frisky this morning." She yawned. "Meanwhile, I think I just grew a tumor in my brain."

Maggie laughed. "Don't worry, Karen. Trust me, I'm just as tired as you are," she assured her. She put a finger over her lips as if she'd just remembered something. "Oh! It's Andy's birthday, isn't it? Did you get him his present?" Mrs. Barclay-Karen- visibly sank in her chair. "Oh, Maggie," she sighed miserably. "I tried everywhere, but they were all so expensive…"

She didn't even get to finish. Maggie squealed and grabbed Karen's shoulders. "I knew it! I knew it!" she exclaimed. Before Karen could open her mouth again, Maggie shushed her. "Listen, listen Karen! Oh, you are going to LOVE this!" She jumped around the room in total jubilation. "Alright, just listen to this, Karen…" Mrs. Barclay leaned forward. "Well, Maggie? Spill. A new boyfriend?" Maggie shook her head. "No, silly, I'll show you." She skipped back out, while Karen sat in her chair, waiting.
When her friend came back in, Karen could not believe her eyes.

"Maggie!" she exclaimed as Maggie laid the doll in her lap. Maggie giggled. "Isn't he cute? I flirted with the shopkeeper to get him for a low price. Apparently, this doll wasn't wanted in regular stores, so he got to take it for free to put in his bargain shop!" She sat down next to Mrs. Barclay. "Now, aren't I the greatest?" Karen smiled at the bubbly redhead. "I gotta say, Maggie, yes, yes you are! Andy… Andy is going to be… happy isn't even the word to describe it!"

Maggie Peterson smiled at her blonde friend. But did that doll just blink?

***

Where the hell am I going? And who is this Andy kid? I want the feel of a knife back in my hand. From the way things are going, it seems I will have to be left defenseless without one for a while.

I really don't like this vulnerability…

***
Andy had just finished making dinner. It was a microwave dinner, of course, but at least he had made something for his Mom. She was always tired when she came home. Besides, there were no kids around their apartment. It wasn't as if he had someone to play with. Sighing, he stared at his plate and waited for his mother to come home so he could have someone to talk to; to take his mind off of old memories of his dad. He hated feeling this way. Friends of his mother had come by after the funeral, telling them after a while, the pain would go away, but it had been months now. Andy thought by now he would have gotten used to being without his father…

The sound of the door opening made him jump. Daddy?

No, of course not. It was his mother. She was whistling. Whistling? Why? What could she possible be happy about? He ran to the door to see her. "Mommy? Mommy, I made dinner for us all by myself! And I didn't even burn…" he stopped to look at her for a moment. Was that what he thought it was? It was unmistakably real, and yet it was hard for him to believe it. "Mommy," he breathed softly. "Is… is that for me?" Mrs. Barclay could only smile at the look on her son's face.

It was a doll. The doll, to be exact. Why in the world this boy would want the doll, one would have to guess because of one thing: Andy Barclay needed a companion. Someone he could be friends with. To those who do not have friends, you understand. That gnawing loneliness you feel in the chambers of your heart when you sit in the corner of the playground because you don't know anyone else; because you're afraid to make friends because you scared they will bring up that question: My daddy is a fireman, what does your daddy do?

My daddy was a doctor…

But the doll! He was real, so alive! And he would never, ever ask about Daddy because he was a Good Guy. He would be his friend. Andy took him into his arms carefully, as if he would break and be gone if he dropped him. "Yes, Andy," he heard his mother say with a hint of laughter in her voice. "Thanks to Maggie, he's all yours. Don't forget to thank her whenever you see her." Andy held the doll tighter to him, barely hearing her. "Hi, I'm Chucky," the doll chirped. "And I'm your friend to the end! Hidey-ho!"

He's all yours.

***

I had a toy once. My mother made it for me. I used to play with it when I was a kid. Was I this happy when she gave it to me? Probably not.

I mean, I didn't cry that much when Dadd.. Father ripped it up and threw it away.

I think it was raining that day…