arson is my middle name | m. afton

one

wherever you go, wherever you are
i hope it's not too close, i hope it's not too far
i'll leave my window open, just in case you come home

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•••••

The canon timeline? NON FUCKING EXISTENT BABEYY THIS TRAIN IS OFF THE RAILS WEEWOOWEEWOO

it's MY lore now scott

  I couldn't explain the pull I felt when I saw the job listing for a management position at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex.

  It was magmatic, electric. The sight of it alone had my world grinding to a halt. It had the whispers of ghosts murmuring blocked memories through my ears. It was my nightmares personified, and yet...

  I wasn't even looking for a new job. I was comfortable being the team manager at a small little firm that handled bigger corporation's accounts. The pay was good, the location was close, the people... bearable, I supposed, if a little copy-paste and mundane. It was coffee with the team on Monday mornings. Drinks after work on Fridays. It was nothing to rave about, but still, as I said, comfortable. 

  And when I was done with work, I'd come home to my asshole cat, eat leftover dinner because I always made far too much for one person, and pretend that I wasn't lonely by reading books or watching movies.

  It was a steady routine. I liked steady routines. It was predictable and nothing could surprise me. I'd grown dull for sure, but at least I wasn't hurting.

  But when my eyes just so happened to land on the listing while lazily scrolling through my LinkedIn profile one thursday evening, I felt myself sit up straight.

  My cat, Mike, wound between my legs as I sat on the couch before biting the flesh of my calf. He was a sign, I would later think, to stop while I was ahead. I paid him no attention as I stared at the listing, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Magmatic. Electric.

  A conundrum of emotions had cycled through my body at that very moment, enough to have me feeling faint and teetering while the sound of the tv in the background slurred into incoherency. I'd tried my hardest from over the years to avoid any mention of the franchise (which was hard when all we had in Hurricane were two tumbleweeds and a Freddy's) but there I was, and there it was, engaged in a staring contest as I tried to keep my mind in the present and my head above the water.

  And then, as soon as the sudden wave of emotions had settled in a murky haze behind my eyes, I felt my hand moving of its own accord - clicking the listing, scrolling through the scarce information and moving to the Apply Now! button at the bottom of the page.

  The mouse hesitated over the cheery font as I did, a small wash of clarity fighting the haze from my eyes. This was silly. This was stupid. 

  You really haven't moved on at all, have you?

  My fingers lifted to rest on the cool metal of the locket around my neck.

  The pay wasn't even that good - a substantial chunk smaller than what I was getting at my current job, and it was an extra twenty minute drive on top of the ten it took to get to my workplace. The hours were worse, too. I'd have to work weekends and the occasional nightshift. I would be a fool to toss the towel in at my current job only to take up this one. A total idiot.

  It wouldn't help me forget what happened.

  In fact, it would do the total opposite - it would throw me right back out for the sharks, and I could already see myself breaking down into tears every night after returning from working in a place that reminded me so much of him, thinking to myself in my too-large of a house for only one person with nobody but my dick of a cat for company; why, why, why?

  No, I was stupid for thinking that I should apply. My therapist would berate me to the moon and back. My friends would call me crazy and say I'd finally lost it. My brother would be so disappointed. My mother would be so worried.