Mrs.Afton's Tale Told [FNAF] [TEMPORARY HIATUS]

Chomp

In the following days, Claire spent more time with William. She would be planning out C.C. 's birthday party and Will would talk to her, sometimes even teaching her how he built the animatronics. It was intriguing, and she absorbed every ounce of his robotic information. In those days, she also reluctantly let herself forget about the missing kids, and let her own children roam around the restaurant. But she couldn't help but feel that Michael had become needier and moodier, C.C. came home crying every day, and Elizabeth was empty minded.

"Don't worry about them." Will would say every day, like the caring father he is. If you didn't catch it, that was Claire's sarcasm. Yeah, maybe she hadn't forgotten about Susie and Charlotte. But her husband reassured that he always had eyes on the kids... somehow. Henry hadn't been around recently... She couldn't help but worry for her cousin.

Another one of her worries was the animatronics. Daily, Fredbear would open his mouth and never close it. Like Chica's the day before, Afton would just take a tool, damp it, then press down on the lower jaw which snaps back up. He said it was activating the springlocks. Whatever springlocks are.

Then there was Chica. The big yellow chicken... recently kept making eerie noises: groaning, wheezing, and girlish giggling. Her pink eyes, Mrs.Afton had loved the pink eyes, became lifeless— even though they lacked life to begin with.

And don't even get her started on the cupcake. Its glare reminded her of an angry dog.
It's somewhat... haunting.

******

Finally, the day of the party. All those days planning have made this day turn out smoothly. Everything was going as they should. It pleased her that all that work—though enjoyed with her husband— paid off. The pizza was still greasy like usual. At least the decorations were exceptional. Will made sure we got extra. C.C. got along well with Cassidy, Mike hung with his quartet of guys, and Elizabeth was peaceful playing games.Well, peaceful until, "Mommy!! I have to go to the potty!"

I squint at her. "Sh. Not so loud! I'll take you there, don't worry."

I grab her hand and lead her to the restroom as if she hadn't been here a million times. Before entering, I look back. Cassidy teases C.C.—hopefully playfully— and Michael conspires with his buddies.

Elizabeth just seems to make everything difficult: complaining about the cold toilet seat, thin toilet paper, hot water, too slippery floors, too rough hand drying towels, literally anything to pick out. It's tiring. It makes getting out quickly impossible. When they exit Elizabeth wanders off without warning to the arcade cabinets. Then wailing catches her attention.

"No! I don't want to go!" C.C. shrieks.

Michael laughs, "You heard the little man! He wants to get even closer!"

I rush to turn the corner. I see Michael and his friends holding C.C. above their heads.

"Hey guys, I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!" I realize what he means. Fredbear's mouth hangs open. My youngest cries and flails the best he can without falling. Oh no... the springlocks...
Mike counts: "One... two..."

"No!!" I call, running to the stage. They shove his head into the animatronic's mouth, leaving him hanging from the lower jaw.

Snap.

A bloodcurdling crunch follows resounding through the room, coming from his head. Everything stops... there's deafening silence... Claire's head pounds, though it's not her head that's in the most pain. Blood drips from Fredbear's mouth like drool. People scream, kids cry, others cover their eyes, Mike's friends flee like cowards. Michael. He just stands there, hyperventilating and pulling at his shirt collar.

Mike looks back at me; his eyes glossed over with tears. His mouth apologizes, but no words form.

I notice the tears on my own face, "What have you done?"