"Huh, so it leads back here." Pj said, walking into the laundry room. He pulled the headlamp off his head, shoving it into his pocket.
He stumbled a bit as his vision grew blurry, he blinked a few times. He needed to sit down for a while. He was overwhelmed and exhausted. So much had happened that he hadn't had time to process it.
The locker room had a bench. He sat down and set his duffel bag down next to him. He let out a shaky sigh as he slowly opened it. His hands were shaking as he pulled out his damaged belongings.
He pulled out his laptop, he opened it and was greeted by the sound of a loud crack that made him flinch.
The screen was shattered, he could see the inner components. The keyboard had keys missing.
His face dropped as he quickly turned it, checking to see if the hard drive was still intact.
His relief flooded through him as he saw that the hard drive was still intact. He knew how to remove it, but he didn't want to risk losing all his data. He furrowed his brows, frustrated.
Every part of him wanted to slam it against the ground and scream bloody murder, he wanted to dismantle something.
Pj set it down gently, he clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut. He balled his hands till his knuckles turned white. He tried taking deep breaths, trying to keep his anger from rising. He was huffing and puffing, nothing was working.
He jumped to his feet as his hands were in his hair, digging into his scalp. "Gaaaah!" He screamed.
He hated this.
He slouched over letting his hands fall to his sides as he stared at the ground, breathing heavily. He wanted to kick those stupid lockers. He wanted to break that bench.
He shook his head trying to get rid of the negative thoughts. He turned back to his bag, his journals were ruined. All his notes, all his research, are gone.
The years he spent writing all that information were destroyed.
He continued looking through, pulling out more.
Most of his tools were scratched up a bit, but they could still be used. A few cables were bent out of shape, one of them was bent too far and using it would be very unsafe. He noticed a star shaped object poking out. He pulled it out and realized that it was Monty's shades. There wasn't a scratch on them. Something in his bag must've kept it from breaking. He put them on top of his head. He'd give them back to Monty later.
He got most of his belongings out and was about to close it when he stopped, he stood up straight and looked down at his once trusty and reliable duffle bag.
"I think someone took my snacks before ditching my bag." He clicked his tongue in frustration. "Come on, Paisley, forget about the snacks, someone went through your stuff!"
He growled before turning to kick the lockers. Leaving a dent in the metal, at this point he didn't care that he damaged it.
He sighed and leaned back against the lockers. The back of his head resting against the cold metal surface as he stared at the ceiling. Slowly he felt his eyes grow heavy before they shut closed.
The pain that he was ignoring came flooding back, but he pushed it down. He still had stuff to do. He couldn't let it distract him.
All his other senses were heightened as he kept his eyes shut.
Listening to the sounds around him, the ambience of the locker room was peaceful. Hearing the wheels from the S.T.A.F.F bots as they patrolled around the area.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
Slowly he felt himself relax. He couldn't let himself get worked up. He wouldn't be able to make wise decisions with his brain plagued by emotions. After a few minutes he finally opened his eyes.
The anger, the frustration, it was festering inside. It was tearing him apart at the seams, ripping at him piece by piece. Trying to keep it all together, but no matter what he tries it always grabs a little of his sanity and rips it out. He doesn't know what to think anymore. He doesn't know if he can really trust anyone. He doesn't know if he can even trust himself.
Every part of his identity felt like it wasn't him. He wasn't the same person who first started working here. This place changed him. It wasn't for the better, it was for the fucking worst.
Leaving wasn't an option. It wasn't an option he would choose, even if this job was killing him. He loved what he did, this was his dream job. It's sad isn't it. You're thinking who would want to work at Freddy Fazbear's considering all the rumors surrounding this place and past places.
Pj had felt connected to the place. He was drawn to it. He couldn't explain it, but he felt that there was a reason for him to be here. As a child he was drawn to mechanical engineering, he would take apart objects around his home. The toaster, the television, anything he could get his hands on.
He would go to the junkyard to get parts for his projects. Spend days working to perfect them, never letting anyone tell him that he can't do something.
What happened to that Pj?
He used to not care about what others said. He used to be able to stand up for himself. He was a coward. He couldn't defend himself. Too scared to tell the truth. He's fallen low.
His feet dragged across the floor as he entered parts and services. He placed his bag on the ground beside him as he stared at the blank monitor in front of him. Seeing his tired reflection staring back at him.
"Do you even have a clue on what you're going to do?" His reflection asked him.
He shook his head, "No, not in the slightest." He responded honestly.
He turned away from the monitor and walked towards the stacks of boxes and stared down at them. He was in deep thought going through different options, but every single one was a dead end.
He bit the inside of his cheek, furrowing his brows. Still nothing. The pressure building in his chest as his breathing increased.
His jaw clenched and unclenched.
No, that won't work. It was rising up, fogging his mind.
He balled his hands tightly, nails digging into his palms. That's when it exploded and all his emotions bursted out.
"Damnit!" Pj roared out as he kicked the stack boxes knocking them down on the ground where parts flew across the floor spreading out everywhere.
He was breathing heavily, his chest rising up and down with every huff and puff. His gaze focused intently on the ground.
He had nothing. No idea of his next plan of action. His legs gave out from underneath him and he fell to the ground in defeat. His injuries were burning and shooting pain through him making it hard to concentrate on his thoughts.
"What am I going to do?" He asked out loud hoping for someone to hear him and give him an answer.
But alas he was only met with deafening silence.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Record
Fanfiction[Discontinued] "I do not come up here anymore. I miss him." Freddy mourns the loss of his dear pal Bonnie. He wishes he was still here. Many questions are unanswered and Freddy wants to know what really happened to Bonnie.
