Aftermath of Agony

Chapter 2: The Rest of the Night.

The day is done, and now comes the night.

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Michael could not sleep.

His clothes still unchanged, he had not bothered to put on his pajamas, nor did he make any effort to get ready for bed. The same thoughts repeated in his mind; everything that happened before was all his fault. Everything hurt as his heart ache leached into every part of his body. His head hurt, his chest hurt, his arms hurt, his stomach hurt, his legs hurt, and his feet hurt. For the longest time, it hurt so much he could not bear to move his body an inch. Staring at the empty ceiling, the minutes turned to hours as he laid on his bed. He wished that his room could be his tomb, at least the dead do not get back up once they are laid to rest.

The pain was too much for Michael, he shut himself down. If he kept it inside, he reasoned, he could gain some bit of control over his feelings. Pain felt so much worse to him when it leaked from his eyes in the form of tears or escaped through his mouth in the sounds of his sobs. As a defense mechanism, he shut down his ability to express emotions. He could shield himself from the pain by constructing this mental armor. No pain could breach his walls, and none could escape. He figured it would be easiest for himself to only have to deal with pain from one side. Mike let himself shudder as a pit within him grew. To numb his pain, he could throw all his sorrows into the pit. If his feelings were too great to be hefted into the abyss, they could be numbed by other means - like distractions.

To distract himself, he tuned his focus to the world outside of him - anything except himself, he was the worst. From within his room, he could hear the sounds that echoed in the house and outside. The wind had picked up since they had gotten home, Mike heard it whoosh past the house, vibrating its frames and walls. He could hear his dad walking around on the floors as well. Mike did not make a single sound, so all that he heard he attributed to his dad, even if the sounds were strange. He heard the clanging of dishes as they prepared food, or they were being washed. Mike maybe felt his stomach growl, but he tossed his hunger pangs along with the other pains he felt into the pit too. He heard the whirr of the air conditioner and the buzz of lights left on in the rest of his house. He heard a faucet turned on and then off, and then he unmistakably recognized the sound of the television being turned on. A distant murmur of people talking, undoubtedly from the TV, echoed through the halls of the house. Mike looked over to the time, it was 9pm. He figured it was the nine o'clock news making the sounds. The news anchor's voices were faint, but Mike still tried to discern what they said.

"Earlier today an... ... took place at the local rest... ...party came to an abrupt stop when... ...witnesses say he was lifted by... ...promptly taken to the hospital..."

Mike could not make out all the words, but he knew with certainty what they were talking about. He did not bother to eavesdrop on the rest of what they said.

Gradually, the external sounds faded one by one - even the drone of the air conditioning turned off to save energy during the cool summer night. Eventually, his father went to bed. Mike knew he had because everything within the house was completely silent, except for the ticking of a grandfather clock that had been drowned out by all the other sounds before. With no other sounds to distract him, he resorted to counting in his head along with the ticking of the clock. He counted until he got lost within the numbers and paid no heed to their order. His counting devolved into repeating or stating random numbers along with the beat of each tick. He did not know how long this went on for - Mike only knew that by the time his eyes grew heavy with fatigue, the digital clock on one of the shelves in his room read "12:01 am". He thought to himself that maybe it was time to finally sleep-

But then he heard a sharp metallic groan from the hallway outside his room. Mike jolted upright in his bed. 'What was that?' To his knowledge, there was nothing within the house that could make that noise. 'Was there an intruder?' For the first time in hours, Mike got off his bed. Then he heard thuds of something heavy moving outside. It sounded too big to be William, his dad may have walked firmly, but the man did not weigh much. The thuds grew louder, it sounded too heavy to be human. Mike crept in pace with the ticking of the grandfather clock. He noticed the sounds outside did the same as him, steady and mechanical in nature. The thudding stopped, but Mike did not feel at ease, the silence made him more apprehensive.

At last, he made it to his bedroom door. To hear if anything was nearby, he placed an ear to the side of the door. There was nothing. He reached out his hand to turn the doorknob, it shook. Mike did not know if his hand shook because he had not eaten anything, or if it was because he was scared. He turned the doorknob and creaked it open only a few inches, but his brain could not make sense of what he saw.

Before his very eyes was what Mike could only describe as a nightmare. Two glowing red and yellow eyes stared directly at him. Around its eyes were smaller beady ones that littered its face. Every eye was soulless. Its body was an inky black, as if it were made of the shadows. Massive, jagged rows of teeth made up its horrible maw.

Mike screamed and tried to swing the door shut as fast as he could. A massive, clawed hand wedged its way between the door and the frame and forced it wide open. Its force knocked Mike to the ground. Scrambling away, he could see the nightmare monster in its entirety now.

Its head nearly scraping the ceiling, the monster stood taller than any person that Mike knew. Not only did it have one horrible mouth, but there was a second set of jaws situated directly where its stomach should be. Its two hulking arms split off into smaller arms that morphed and moved. Its form was never still, amorphous even, but its presence was concrete. It was not just made of shadows; it was the night itself and everything that lurked within it. It was a cruel distortion of a bear- no, Mike saw them now, it had a yellow bowtie and top hat.

It was Fredbear, he had no doubt about it.

Mike screamed again and tried his best to crawl away, but there was nowhere else to run. With no hope to escape, he was trapped. His injuries from earlier in the day, and his own growing fatigue, hindered his abilities to fight against the beast.

It was much faster than Mike ever could be. Grabbing him by his ankle, before he even managed to get back off the ground, the 14-year-old thrashed around in its grip. The monster managed to restrain him by wrapping its arms around the boy within vice-like clutches. Mike still tried his damnedest to get away, but it was to no avail.

The monster effortlessly lifted Michael off the ground. Mike kicked and clawed at it as much as he could. The hundreds of jagged teeth that lined its stomach mouth drew back, row upon row of vicious teeth opening. Beneath it all, laid a tenebrous hole. Within the hole, two burning orbs awaited Michael. He did not understand what they were at first, but then it dawned on him. They were eyes. Two scarlet glowing eyes filled with fury and an insatiable hunger.

Mike's body when rigid, breaking into a cold sweat, all color drained from his face. He knew whose eyes they were.

It was Evan.

Everything Michael had thrown into the pit within him shot back out. He openly wept. "I'M SORRY! PLEASE- I LOVE YOU! I'M SO SORRY!"

His wailing went unanswered as the nightmare monster lowered him into its maw. Mike was certain he was going to die; he was going to be eaten and he would never see the light of day again. The mouth shut and he was enveloped within its darkness.

He could not see anything at first, but then the only thing he could see was red. The red blinded him; his eyes unable to see his hands and the rest of his body. Piercing frequencies assaulted his ears, it was so loud that he could not hear himself screaming. What he was experiencing, he could not make sense of. It was a barrage against his every sense. In contrast to the horrible sensations, he felt incredibly small and weak. His sense of self pummeled into nothing. He felt as if he was dying. If this was not how it felt, then he figured that he must already be in hell. Maybe it was a deserving punishment after all he had done. Resigning to the torment, he curled in on himself into oblivion.

In an instant, Michael jolted upright in his bed.

He did not immediately register where he was, so he continued to scream until he did. After a moment, he recognized he was back within his room. His hand moved to touch his face, to feel if he was alive. He quickly pulled his hand away and looked down at them. Still scraped and bandaged, but his hands had not acquired any new injuries. He was fine. Finally, exhaustion caught up with him and he collapsed back onto his bed.

It was only a nightmare.

THE END.