That Time in 1987. . . . (A FNAF Fanfic) (#WATTYS2015)

Foxy

The bullies were chasing Foxy.

        After quite a while of hiding outside, he finally decided to come in. Unfortunately, it was at the exact same time as a group of other students who enjoyed picking on him. Why are they even in the halls? Foxy asked himself.

        "Get him!" the bigger one of the group yelled as they chased after him. It wouldn't be any surprise if they didn't get him. Foxy was fairly quick on his feet, especially when it came to chases like this.

        His red hair swooped past his eyes. It was so long that he could feel it bouncing up and down behind his head. It felt slightly refreshing on his sweat-drenched skin as he dashed through the halls.

        Foxy looked to a cluster of doors that led outside and down the hallway. The hallway was empty, but outside had more space to run in. Quickly, he made a turn and burst through the doors. The sun beautifully lit up the cloudy sky. It felt good on Foxy's freckled face. He turned and started to run for the field behind the school.

        His stomach faded away as he realized his awful mistake.

        Two bullies converged on him from the left. He paused for a moment and tried to run away, only to find another two bullies coming out of the other door. He was completely trapped.

        Mike, the biggest of the bullies, came in front of Foxy as the rest of the group held Foxy by the arms tightly, like a sacrifice to the leader.

        "You thought you could get away, huh?" Mike snorted. "Thought you could run from us--?"

        Foxy kicked upward with his foot. Mike had already saw the blow coming and backed away. Foxy hadn't missed. His target only moved.

        Mike strutted back forward and got right up in Foxy's face. He could smell his foul breath. "You can stop running. You won't have to after my fist goes into your stomach."

        Panicked, Foxy blurted, "No, stop!"

        It was too late. Mike had already charged up the punch and socked Foxy right in the center of the stomach. 

        "Ooooooh!" Mike's buddies hooted. Foxy's stomach burned and clenched, making him want to throw up. He was already beginning to slump in the bullies' arms.

        "C'mon, Mike!" a boy called. "Again!"

        Mike didn't fail to obey this calling. Before Foxy was even ready for it, a punch hammered Foxy in the stomach again. His jaw dropped and stayed there as his eyes started to close.

        "Let go," Mike commanded. His buddies obeyed. He charged into Foxy, but this time clenched onto his clothes, yanking him closer and speaking directly into Foxy's ear. "Listen, Foxy. If you even think about running away from us, don't think we're not as smart as you. Got it?"

        Foxy sniffed and nodded.

        In a light and salty voice, Mike answered, "Good." He shoved Foxy into his crowd of buddies. He then beckoned them all to follow him. Of course, they obeyed.

        Once they'd all left and Foxy was completely alone, he dragged himself away and back around the school. He found a small, shady corner, wedged himself into it, and cried for the millionth time that day.

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