Punching the Clock, But It's Already Broken

Evan's Happiest Day

A/N: TW FOR ABUSE AND HEAVY DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE IN THIS CHAPTER 

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Unfortunately for Michael, as soon as he got home, his father was waiting for him in the door. "Where the fuck were you?!" William screamed, and Michael flinched instinctively. "I- I'm sorry, Father- I went to talk to Uncle Henry...." He murmured, and staggered backwards as a hand made sharp contact with his face.

"Don't you ever do that shit again, do you understand me? Your mother specifically told you to rest, and what did you do?" His words were sharp, and they buried themselves deep in Michael's skin, poisoning his spirits like lead. He wanted to clench his fists, to spit in William's face, to scream and cry and destroy things.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and forced out a reply. "I left the house."

He strategically kept his eyes fixed on the ground. He knew that if he made any sort of eye contact, he'd end up worse than he was already bound to.

"You disobeyed. Deliberately disobeyed. You are such a useless fucking child. I don't know why we keep you around, honestly." William snarled, and Michael had to choke back his tears.

Useless, useless, useless.

"Quit crying or I'll give you a reason to."

Michael blinked hard, his cheeks dampening with the release of hot tears. "I'm sorry," he lowered his head, and William seized a handful of it, jerking his head up. "You better not let me catch you doing that shit ever again, or next time I won't let you off so easily."

Next thing he knew, William was gone, and he was alone in the hallway, crying and hurt.

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August 20th, 1987.

What an awful day to be alive.

Evan was standing at the base of the stairs once again, hugging his old Fredbear plush close. With a twinge, Michael remembered when that plush had been brand new and his. Evan had been given it on his 1st birthday, taken from Michael and handed over. Michael had thought that was the most unfair thing ever. Now it seemed minuscule compared to everything that he had taken from Evan in turn. That was what Michael Afton did, he took and took and never gave back in turn.

That was what he did.

Michael shoved those thoughts away as he tromped down the stairs. He passed by Evan, and paused.

Grinning, he scooped Evan up from behind, hugging his middle and rubbing his scalp with hus knuckles.

Evan squealed, flailing around. "Put me down!" He pleaded, trying to shove Michael's fist away. "Mom did my hair! You're messing it up!"

Michael finally relented his attack, setting his little brother down and rubbing the crown of his head as an apology. "You can always comb it back down," he pointed out, gently moving strands of hair back into place regardless. Elizabeth stared at him like he was rotting and had wires poking out of his body.

"Seriously, Evan? How in the Sam hell did you manage to get dirt on your nose already? Didn't you take a bath this morning?" Michael asked, exasperated. He sighed and licked his thumb, rubbing at the spot on his little brother's cheek. When the dirt finally ebbed away, he stepped away. "You need to be more careful, Evan. Can't have you getting flithy on your big day." He deliberately put emphasis on those words, just to gauge Evan's reaction. From the way he paled slightly, Michael could tell that he had had the desired effect. "Happy birthday, Evan. Enjoy it." He rubbed Evan's head again, and walked off. He knew he'd have to deal with those two again in the car, but his mother rarely allowed them to speak in the car, so he could easily get away with not explaining anything.