[ Flipside - A DSaF Fanfic ]

[ Chapter 9 | The File On My Desk]

    It had been two weeks since DaveTrap had broken into his house, the memory still lingering in Jack's mind. He still had the knife he used to kill him in his room, just in case. His paranoia followed him everywhere he went. He kept on seeing DaveTrap where he wasn't, whether it be in the mirror, in shadows, or in the forest. His brain seemed quite fond of playing tricks on him. Also, he hadn't gone to the flipside for those two weeks as well, both because of the power outage, and because he was fearful that DaveTrap's soul had merged with flipside Dave's. Well, that, and that he was scared that flipside Dave hated him after Jack had called him his boyfriend on accident. 

    Jack was in bed, daydreaming about Dave, wishing he could talk to him, but also knowing he wouldn't dare to touch the arcade machine. He knew he would have to get up soon, but just wanted something to distract his mind from DaveTrap. He decided to just list off what he needed to do to get his mind off the topic. Today, he needed to go to work, and check up with Scott, maybe preform. He rolled out of bed and plummeted to the floor. Lying there in agony, he groaned in frustration. Why didn't he want to get up? This hadn't happened for a while. He usually could just get up without too much problem, but right now it felt as if his whole body was made out of lead. He felt empty, and apathetic. 

    "Fuck," He continued. "depression strikes again."

    He got up, into a lazy sitting position, with his legs folded in front of him. He rested his head on his knees, sighing. He wanted to cry but didn't even have the energy for that. He stumbled up, holding onto the bed to get up. He stepped around the clothes lying on his floor, trying to reach the door. Some of them were folded neatly, while others were flopped onto the floor, like a corpse. He had, somehow, got the blood off the walls in his room. Same for the halls. Sometimes, he just gets a random spark to clean up his entire house. He walked down the hall to the stairway, any trace of blood on the walls were gone. 

     He walked downstairs like a normal person, not having the energy to do any cool tricks, like slide down the railing, or hop down the stairs. 

     He got to his kitchen, again, no more blood on the walls as he had scrubbed it off, but the microwave still laid on the floor. Staring at the fallen microwave, he pressed 'F' to pay respects. How did he do that? Honestly, not sure. [ okay so, one of you thought that pressed 'F' meant to FUCK (as in sexual intercourse-). i'm not gonna say names, but I will shame you. SHAME THEM IN THE COMMENTS-  SHAME THE BOZO. MHAHAHA- ]

He grabbed some things from the fridge, leftovers from last night. He practically never made his own food, not because he couldn't cook, but because he didn't have the focus or energy to make things. He was pretty sure if he were to cook, his house would be set aflame because he forgot to turn off the oven or something stupid like that. After eating the leftover, which were from some Mexican restaurant nearby, he put a hoodie on. He stumbled to his car, shutting the door behind him.

    It had been raining a lot lately, the ground muddy. The sky was cloudy and gray. Everything seemed to be in a gloomy haze, from the ground to the sky. The sun was just barely rising, it being a light orange. The bright sun contrasted with the bleak grayish-blue sky. He began to drive.

.  .  .

    Jack had arrived at his work. It had yet to open, which gave him time to get inside and help Scott with...whatever he does. It seemed to Jack that Scott did anything and everything, even when Jack tried to help. Scott, to him, was an odd fellow. But again, Jack was a freak, so it didn't really bother him. Jack put up a few drawings, most of them creeped him out. He then preformed maintenance on the animatronics he had salvaged. My 'maintenance' he meant checking if there was blood, buffalo sauce, or other assorted liquids on the animatronics, and if there was, pour an ounce of bleach on it. Lately, there was a lotta liquids on the Fox, or Fax as Dave said. He inspected the liquid, and after realizing what it was, poured a shit ton of bleach on it, as if it was demon and he was pouring holy water. I'll spare you the details of what liquid it was.