The room Foxy was in was dark and cold.
The walls and floor were pure cement, burrowing into his arms and legs and clothes with icy claws. He had wedged himself in a corner, too afraid to cry.
What as Jonathan going to do to him?
Would he survive?
The room was pitch black. If the door opened, it would be torture on his eyes. He couldn't help but shed a few tears from his cold eyes as he waited, hoping that something would save him. Anything.
That was when the door on the other side of the room swung open, Jonathan peering in. The light was needles against Foxy's eyes. Jonathan looked at Foxy and made a face as though he were talking to a puppy. "Aw, is the little Foxy cold?" He curled his lower lip with mock sympathy and batted his eyelashes. He then let out a laugh and said, "Your little friend is coming. The one who we left behind. But don't worry, Foxy. He'll be dead by the time he finds out what's going on! Isn't that just adorable?"
Foxy wanted to croak, "No," but didn't have the strength in his lungs to. He watched with horror as Jonathan giggled and closed the door, returning blackness to the room.
Freddy was coming.
Freddy was going to save them.
But he wouldn't save them.
Jonathan was going to kill him before he would get the chance to cry for help.
Foxy squeezed his eyes together and thought, Is this the life I'm really living? I would give anything right now to be socked in the stomach by Mike.
YOU ARE READING
That Time in 1987. . . . (A FNAF Fanfic) (#WATTYS2015)
Fanfiction(title idea by xXkorraXx) (cover by cyberspaces) Freddy is popular. When he enters Junior High School, he already knows many of the 7th, 8th, and 9th Graders. With his wits, charismatic attitude, and look on his face like he's plotting something, ev...
