Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach: The Novelization

Same As Always

This might come as a shock to you, but there was this time... where I had to survive 7 entire nights in a place called "Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex"... The worst part of it all? I had to fight to keep myself alive... from a literal "demon" who was trying to kill me...

(Gregory's POV)

As the sun rose over the horizon and into this dark and dreary alley somewhere in the city, I was leaning up against the wall of a dimly lit building. Though it was shining hard, I was shielded as the awning above me blocked the sunlight. My name was Gregory, I was a ten year old boy who spent my life living on the streets. I had no recollection of my parents, my family, my home, my old life or anything about what I used to be. All I did know was my name and how to live as a poor orphan in the big city. I sighed to myself as I slid to the ground in exhaustion. I took a moment to look at the dirt and mud markings covering my hand and sighed, thinking back to how an earlier attempt to steal food for myself failed and I was driven away by the local police.

"Well, guess I'll be going hungry tonight... yet again." I muttered as I left the alley and started walking through the city.

Today was just like every other day for me, a day of dread and misery. I see the same people crowding around telephone poles staring at missing people posters stapled on them, the same people sitting down on benches reading the bitter articles of the newspaper "Local Residents Continue To Disappear.", the same ominous cloud of unease still looms over many residents of Hurricane, Utah.

"Same as always." I huffed as I continued to walk back to the place I call "home" with an empty stomach. Living a life as a homeless kid is brutal for me, going dumpster diving for food, scrounging for money, stealing from others, and always moving from place to place. Even though it's a life no child deserves to have, it's just the cruel hand that life had dealt me. However, things got a little better after finding an old building to stay in. The building I found had graffiti scribbled all over its brick walls, a broken fire escape dangling from the left side of the building, and a few patches of moss growing on the roof.

When I arrived back at my "home", I crawled through the small opening on the right side of the building and entered my "room". The interior of the building didn't have much other than some chipped bricks on the wall, cracked windows that were very dirty and allowed little sunlight to shine through, a water damaged ceiling that had a few tiles missing, a small shower with running water, a container which was used to wash clothes, a big piece of used bubble wrap to sleep on, and the very few belongings I had. I kept what little clothing I had inside a broken wardrobe along with a tiny bar of soap, one brown band-aid, some loose change I gathered the other day, a pair of rusty scissors, and a roll of tape that I used to patch holes in my shoes. These living conditions are nowhere near perfect for a child but compared to sleeping in a rat-infested alley or a soggy cardboard box, I was just grateful to have a stable roof over my head.

I slumped against the brick wall and slowly slid down. Once I reached the bottom, I let out a deep sigh. "I should have known the dumpster behind the diner on Abbot street would be empty." I placed both hands on my growling stomach to try and make it stop. While I was doing that, I began to hear intrusive thoughts ring inside my head. "Good for nothing wretch!" "Mistake!" "Waste of space!" "Unwanted parasite!" I heard those hurtful remarks daily from the people I once sometimes shared a living space with. These thoughts came to a halt when I noticed a new hole in my right shoe and the sole of my left shoe coming loose.

"Oh, come on!" I groaned, I got up and walked to the broken wardrobe. Once I opened it, I took out the roll of tape and tore off two pieces. I placed one piece on the sole of my left shoe to keep it from falling off, and the second piece on the insole of my right shoe. I then noticed a long piece of my hair getting in my face and felt the band-aid on my right cheek becoming loose, so I placed the tape roll back into the wardrobe and took out the scissors. I walked to one of the cracked windows to see my reflection on the filthy glass. Once I could see my face, I used one hand to hold the piece of brown hair in place and cut it with the scissors. I placed them down and used my free hand to press the loose band-aid back into place, I didn't want to use my last band-aid to cover up the scratch on my right cheek.