The One Who Survived (FNAF backstory fanfic)

Chapter 9

I wake up Saturday morning totally not ready to start my new job. James came over last night, giving me my uniform, and told me to be at work around 8:00am today. Way to early for me, but whatever.
I slip on my uniform and put on the hat, labeled: 'Security,' I know this sounds stupid, but the uniform made me feel important. I leave a note for my dad, and begin to walk, arriving at the doors around 7:50.
I step inside to James standing with his arms folded.
"Ready for the grand tour?" He asks.
"I guess," I answer.
"You don't sound so sure."
"Well I'm not."
He ushers me towards the corner that holds the white fox.
"This is Foxy," he tells me. "But most employees call her 'The Mangle.'"
"Why is she broken?" I ask.
"Toddlers," he answers. "They keep tearing her apart. We kept trying to fix her, but eventually left it as a 'Take apart-put back together' attraction."
Wow, that's safe.
He continues into the other rooms, introducing me to each of the animatronics. Eventually we reach the 'Parts/Service' door, and I find myself hoping we'll go inside.
"This is where we keep the older models, we use them for parts now," he tells me.
We pass right by, heading into the office.
"You'll sit here most of the day, monitoring cameras." My first intention was to just sit through the boring tour, not asking any questions, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
"Why do you guys need a day guard?" I ask.
"Make sure no one breaks in, no funny business, ya'know?"
"Yeah, sure." I reply. Could this have something to do with the murders?
"Your shift ends around 12:00, but just make sure you leave before then, okay?"
He gets up and leaves, so I take a seat and check the cameras. It's 8:00, and I've been told that a birthday party starts at 10:00, so I've got a few hours.

9:30, and I'm bored out of my mind. All there is to do is check cameras, which gets boring after a while.
Then the man came.
Into the office, addressing himself as the manager.
And I started to panic.
I couldn't put my finger on it, but he was familiar, in a scary way. He had purple eyes, purple hair, and a purple suit.
"Are you alright?" He asks. He must've noticed me shaking. His voice was cold, and it sent shivers down my back.
"I'm.....fine," I manage to spit out.
He walks over to the filing cabinet, and begins to pull out papers.
"What are you doing?" I ask. Still shaking. I swear I know this guy from somewhere.
"Just picking out papers," he tells me.
He pulls out a stack, and begins to walk away with it. The man drops them all, scattering them on the floor.
"I can help," I say, walking over towards him.
"No!" He shouts, swatting me away.
"I'm just trying to help!" I shout back.
"I don't need help!"
I back away, catching a quick glimpse of the papers the man was carrying.
They were all newspapers, newspapers dated: '1977."
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