Fredbear Frights #12: Felix The Shark

You're The Band

In light of her son's fascination with Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, Sylvia buys her son a unique birthday present — a Freddy Fazbear mask that's the genuine article... in more ways than one.

"You can come back now," Dr. Monroe said, standing in the doorway that led from the waiting room to the area where she saw patients.

Sylvia set down the magazine she had been pretending to read. Even though it was one of those trashy celebrity gossip rags where the stories were written on a first-grade level, she couldn't concentrate. Her mind was too busy worrying about what Timmy was saying to Dr. Monroe.

Rationally, she knew lots of kids went to see psychologists, and the fact that Timmy was, too, shouldn't make her feel bad about herself as a mother. But parental guilt wasn't rational, and so she couldn't help playing the voice over and over in her head that said, It's your fault. It's your fault Timmy is in trouble. It's your fault Timmy isn't acting right.

Timmy had always been such a happy, easygoing child. As a baby, he hardly cried and slept through the night immediately. As a preschooler, all she had to do was set a tub of blocks or some paper and crayons in front of him, and he could amuse himself for hours. Once he started school, his teachers talked about what a nice kid he was, how there were never any behavioral problems with Timmy.

But then there had been the phone call from Ms. Lotts, Timmy's current teacher, saying Timmy didn't seem himself and asking if there might be a problem at home she should be made aware of.

There definitely was a problem, but Sylvia didn't know what it was.

That was why she had brought Timmy to see Dr. Monroe.

Sylvia followed the doctor down the hall and in to a child-friendly room with one small table for playing blocks and another for drawing. Shelves around the room were filled with picture books and dolls and stuffed animals. Timmy was sitting at the drawing table, hunched over a piece of paper with great concentration.

"Please sit in one of the big chairs," Dr. Monroe said with a pleasant smile. Like a child psychologist should be, she seemed patient and good-humored, easy to talk to.

Sylvia sat down in a wing-backed armchair across from Dr. Monroe's desk. She looked at Timmy, but he didn't look up from his drawing.

"I often encourage children to draw pictures during a session," Dr.

Monroe said. "Sometimes they show things they can't describe in words.

And speaking of that—" She leaned down toward Timmy to be closer to his eye level. "Timmy, can I show your mom the drawing you gave me?"

Timmy nodded.

Dr. Monroe grabbed a piece of sketch paper from her desk and held it out to Sylvia. Sylvia looked at her son's artwork, which featured a cartoon bear in a top hat, a blue bunny, and a yellow chick. These characters had been showing up in Timmy's drawings a lot lately.

"Timmy, can you tell your mom about that drawing?"

Timmy sighed like he was annoyed to be interrupted in his work, but he walked up to the picture Sylvia was holding and pointed at the characters.

"That's Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica," he said. "They were in the band when I went there."

"When you went where?" Dr. Monroe said gently. "Tell your mom."

Timmy looked up at his mommy with guileless brown eyes. "When I went to Freddy's."

"See, this is the kind of thing he keeps saying," Sylvia said, trying not to let her fear come out in her voice. "But it doesn't make sense. There is no Freddy's."