Mangle's Soft Embrace

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Drip... drip... drip.


Well all flowers must be picked.


That was wrong...


All flowers must die.


It was life.


But most flowers lived longest.


With proper care.


"She didn't deserve this..." You mumble, rubbing your head.

"She'll be fine, (Y/n). It takes a few years until she's the proper age, until she can start preforming." Riviera comforted, rubbing your back.

Chica woke up and yawned. "Ah, what were we on about?"

"Mangle." Replied Riviera.


"Why is she escaping?!?! WHERE DID SHE GO?!?!" Loud roars of angry people woke you up.

"Who-" Riviera covered your mouth. Mangle. She mouthed. You gasped, tears threatening to spill. A small, child's shadow. A wolf. Mangle. Whimpers. Mangle's whimpers.

Your baby.

She was being tortured.

Blood was pouring down her pelt, and one I was sown shut.

Her.

Of all flowers.

She was just the unique rose.

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