Broken || William Afton x Oc ||

2

FEBRUARY 20th,
1983

ADELINE COULD PRACTICALLY FEEL the stickiness of the children in the room—but that was the least of her worries. The loud atmosphere, flashing lights of arcade games, and children running past and jumping into the ball pit was nothing short of an over-stimulating penitentiary. It was all so overwhelming, but beyond that... confusing.

How had she at one moment been exploring an abandoned pizzeria for a newspaper article, and  in another showing up to a pizzeria that was bustling and booming with business? The math wasn't adding up; if anything, Adeline would
Say that the letters and symbols were backwards from how badly the answer of the equation ended up being.

She was in a pizzeria.

A busy one.

God, it was so fucking loud in here... there was so many goddamn kids screaming... if it was up to her she'd rip their goddamn vocal chords out of their-

She inhaled, trying to calm herself down. There was no need to... get so... bent up... they were just... doing what kids do.

She scowled at the thought. Why would anyone willingly have kids?

Her heart raced in her chest; the deadly pound of the drums of war... an eerie reminder that this situation was not quite right. It thudded in her ears as she closer her eyes, trying to block out the immense overstimulation that was an 80s pizzeria...

She opened her eyes again, taking in a sharp breath as she climbed out of the ball pit. She didn't fail to get looks—but they shouldn't be making fun of her with the eccentric outfits they were wearing. Then again... if what she examined proved anything, it was that she was in the 80s... that was normal- wait. The 80s.

She halted all other thoguhts in her mind, and began treading the dangerous territory that was her situation. She let her eyebrows furrow, her eyes tracing over the bright colored clothing on one of the mothers torso, before flicking it up to her voluminous hair. She wasn't exactly sure how to feel about the sense of fashion of the time; but she didn't have much time to think on it, anyway. The revelation of it being the 80s was enough to crash into her like a truck.

Her thoughts raced... ran around the corners of her mind, trying to find anything that would make sense... searching, rushing to find some reasonable explanation. Her brain wracked through itself, picking at possible solutions, and trying to make something known from the unknown... but every time she came up short. There was zero... absolutely zero rational explanation for this.

As her eyes meandered around the guests, gazing at the atrocious sense of fashion—the bright colors and clashing patterns that matched the pizzeria's aesthetic. She felt like if her eyes could vomit, they would—it not only looked horrendous, but it made her eyes hurt.

after a moment of silently wishing all 80s clothes to go to hell, she found herself wandering down the hallway. Her boots thunked off the tiled floor like it had moments before, only, this time she didn't have Nathaniel in front of her, guiding her with a beam of light. Now, she was alone... now she was confused, and uncertain.

As she traversed the hall, she realized that the walk was much shorter down the hall in order to reach the main dining area... had she imagined that? She had to of, right? That seemed impossible... it was... the same pizzeria, right? There was no way...

She glanced around; much like the other room, it was brightly colored, everywhere. It felt like harassment on her senses; burning her eyes with the intense colors, and the sharp edges that didn't even bother to blend themselves into the next color. It was atrocious, absolutely atrocious. And the screaming and giggles of the children running around didn't make it any better.