Sammy's Not Real

Hide-and-Seek

Charlie had been stumbling her way through the pitch-black Freddy Fazbear's, feeling the tabletops to avoid hitting them, when a small boy emerged from underneath one.

"Boo! I found you! You shouldn't have walked right in front of me if you wanted to stay hidden you know," he said. His words began to echo as Charlie stopped to stare at him, or more accurately, stare around him. Something about him made Charlie unable to even look at him. Why was she so terrified of a little kid? She was nearly 18 years old, yet she was, according to him, hiding away from a pre-preschooler.

At least she could see what she hoped was a way out now. She made a break for what turned out to be a equally dark hallway, but the nightmare toddler followed without even having to chase her.  He inexplicably evaporated from the dining hall, and materialized above the old linoleum floor right behind her.

"Hey Charlotte, come back! Don't you remember me? It's Sammy!" he shouted as she kept running.

Sammy? As in Sammy Emily? That was just a ghost story that had been going around as long as Freddy's had been around. The rumor was Charlie's dad, Henry Emily, had abandoned his former restaurant in New Harmony and opened Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in Hurricane in attempt to run from the law after kidnapping and murdering his own son, named Sammy. Since Charlie had been very shy as a young child, and usually hid in her father's office when she was at Freddy's (before she'd met John and Michael and the others), people often assumed she was Sammy's ghost. In fact, she herself used to think she was Sammy, but that obviously wasn't true, right? If so, how did this thing remember her? He was just a figment of her imagination.

As she got to the end of the hallway, the only option was to hide in the women's restroom at the end of it. Glass shards from a damaged mirror unexpectedly crunched under Charlie's boots as she bolted for the nearest stall, putting her more on edge than she already was. As soon as she got to a stall she yanked the metallic grey door closed and tried to lock it in place. That's when she realized how much she was trembling. Her hand was so shaky she couldn't click the lock closed. After she did force it closed, she folded the toilet-seat lid down, sat on top of it, folded her knees to her chest, and tried to take a breath. She couldn't, she was still violently shuddering and couldn't stop.

She had to stop though, she was no use to anyone like this. She was here for a reason. She had to find Carlton, her friend, who was being held hostage by a psychotic kidnapper while she was wasting her time playing hide and seek. Realistically, there was nothing this weird ghost kid thing could even do to harm her. He was just a bad memory, right?

Just a bad memory she was ashamed to remember. Just a bad memory she was ashamed she still slightly believed. Just a bad memory that used to make her poke herself just to make sure she wasn't a ghost. Just a bad memory that still caused her to lie awake at night, wondering if she's even real instead of resting. Just a bad memory that she feared, in this moment, was more alive than she was.

With a jolt, Charlie realized that Sammy could've slipped in after her while she was having her panic attack. He could be waiting right outside the stall door, and she would have no idea he was there. She had to check. Slowly and stealthily, she switched to a crouching position on top of the toilet-seat lid, and then stood up to see over the stall's walls. The first thing she saw was the broken mirror, which was fairly high up on the wall. It should've been too high to see the reflection of a young, short child, yet there was one, and not even the one she expected. Instead of her own face, or even Sammy's, Charlie saw the face of a little girl with wavy brown hair and a sunny expression.

Although, something was wrong with it. The girl's brown eyes seemed oddly sightless and lifeless, like they were only there for decorative purposes. Her smile also looked strangely immovable, as if it had been painted on rather than created by actual joy. In fact, her entire face looked artificially glossy and shiny. It reminded Charlie of a plastic mannequin's head. All of those details were uncanny, however not as bizarre as the head's placement on Charlie's own neck.