Warning Signs

Chapter 4

The first customer complaint regarding a staff member involved William. It was not unusual to receive a complaint generally, it was a normal functioning business, after all, and they are ultimately unavoidable, but I thought for sure the first staff-related complaint would be due to a random teenaged youth, not one of the owners.

It was an uncomfortable experience. The woman was practically yelling at me in full volume from directly across the counter. Knowing what I know now, her complaint was most likely justified, but at the time her anger felt too high to be based on a likely accident. I recall humoring her concern out of protecting the business, not out of any real empathy.

Apparently, her son had tried to get a balloon from Spring Bonnie. The balloon was supposedly tied to the boy's wrist by the yellow rabbit, whom had tied the string a little too tightly, causing his circulation to be cut off. The mother before me was describing how her son's hand had gone pale and numb, and he had started to cry from the pain. She said whoever was controlling the rabbit needed to treat children better, and to be more careful in the future.

I did end up talking to William about it. But just as I had predicted, he acted confused and apologetic, which cemented the idea in my mind that it was definitely just an accident. The suits had bulky fingers, after all. It was hard to tie string in them. Looking back, it was yet another sign that should have added up in my mind to something greater. Then, however, it was simply a small annoyance to be glossed over.

To make matters worse, I made the mistake of telling my wife about it. She had called the restaurant not half an hour later to ask if she could drop Charlie off so she could go out with a friend. During that phone call, I complained to her about the angered woman and was hoping to air out the grumbled feeling in my chest so that the rest of the day wouldn't be so stained with it. Unfortunately, my description of the situation only raised the paranoia in my wife over William. I recall her going very quiet on the phone once I had finished telling her the story.

"You there?" I asked after my wife hadn't said anything for a while.

"Yes, I'm here," she said softly.

"You okay?" I asked, noticing the change in her tone.

"Yes," she replied too quickly before switching the subject. "Did you watch him like I asked?"

I sighed. Not this again.

"Hon, there's nothing wrong," I said. "It was an accident." How foolish I had been.

"Did you watch him?" she repeated.

"Not... really, I..." Sighing again, I took a breath and put two fingers to the bridge of my nose. "I'll watch him the rest of the day. I promise."

There was no response at first. Then, finally, Mrs. Emily said, "Please do. And tell me how it goes later."

"Alright," I said, lowering my hand and putting it on my hip. "What time is Charlie coming?"

"Oh, she's not coming," she said. I was stunned.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"She said she doesn't want to come in," my wife explained in the most innocent voice she could muster. The irritation in mine was plain.

"Fine," I said. "I'll see you at home." I slammed the phone down onto the receiver. First, the customer complaint, and now my wife.

I crossed my arms and looked up at the ceiling in frustration. I did not understand where her concern was coming from. Just like the lady who had complained about the balloon string earlier, I did not feel like my wife's reasoning was based on anything more than circumstance. But a promise was a promise and soon I found myself walking out to the front of the restaurant, arms still crossed, and scanning the room for William.

The yellow rabbit was diagonal from me, far across the room on the opposite side of the diner. He was leaned over, seemingly talking to a few children that were gathered around him. This type of gathering was normal for the walk-around characters. It seemed like the moment they stepped out of the back the children flocked to them like wasps. Unfortunately, true to metaphor, the kids did sometimes "sting", usually in the form of punching Fredbear or Spring Bonnie in vulnerable areas. But for the most part they were just excited to interact with them. In this case, the kids seemed shy, all except one, who was whispering into Bonnie's ear. I watched as the rabbit eventually lifted his head and nodded to the kid. Then, the child grabbed Bonnie's hand and led him over to a table where a parent pulled out their camera.

So, the kid was just asking Bonnie for a picture? That seemed normal. I sighed again. Watching William in this way felt stupid.

I instead scanned the rest of the room. The diner seemed cozy to me. It felt sad to imagine that my wife was suddenly wary of the place. I didn't want the diner to become a place of distress for her or my child. The whole point was to have a happy and fun atmosphere to share for the rest of our lives.

What could I do to change her mind?

I was lost in thought by the time William came up to me. He had changed out of the Bonnie suit by then and had approached me silently. I imagine that he noticed I was lost in thought and made the decision to try and not interrupt me with words. I say that only because I had been so distracted by my own thoughts that by the time I realized he was there, he was standing still as though he'd been there for a while.

"Oh, hey," I greeted, blinking and coming back to my senses.

"Suppose it would be a bad time to suggest we open another location?" he asked. I snorted at his joke.

"You know that's already in the works," I responded. He smirked, then stared at me seriously. I frowned. "My wife," I said eventually in a grumbled voice.

William mouthed the word "ah" and nodded his head. "I understand."

I nodded back at him. "I think I found a solution, though."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"You remember that design I showed you last week?" I asked. "The puppet one?"

"The marionette design, yes," he confirmed.

"I think I can add an additional feature to it," I said.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. I walked over to front counter and leaned against it, shoving my hands in my pocket.

"I'm thinking about a security feature," I explained, looking at the floor in deep thought, my mind already searching for ways to make the idea work.

"Security?"

"Yeah," I said. At first, I was too lost in thought to realize I hadn't given him an explanation, but I stumbled into it after a pause or two. "We have a lot of kids here. It makes sense that we do whatever we can to best protect them."

William nodded slowly. He was quiet a moment, then spoke again. "Your wife is worried about security?"

I hesitated, feeling suddenly awkward about the subject having been brought up. No use in denying it, though, yet I wasn't going to tell him the full truth. "News stories keep making her paranoid," I lied.

William nodded again, this time with more emphasis. "Ah. Well, what can I do to help?"

I took a deep breath and put a hand to my face, thinking hard. "I don't want anything loud," I said, picturing the diner's front room in my mind. "If it's going to be a possible protective measure, I don't want it freaking anyone out in the process."

"Let's work it out together, then," he offered, stepping forward and reaching for paper.

"Perfect, thanks," I replied, turning around so that we could use the counter to draw on.

My teeth grits whenever I think of this memory. This... "friend" coming forward to "help" me with my idea. The irony of it is not lost on me. Letting in the very person the Puppet would fail to stop. It is clear to me now his real intentions on assisting in building it. What a cruel genius to pretend to be interested only to learn the secrets of how to stop it from working.

My daughter, I was blind.