Carnage : 1983 | William afton x reader |

A second beginning. -7

2nd of May, 1983

"I have a case for you."

I nodded slowly, forcing my face into something resembling neutrality, though a spark of excitement flickered beneath the surface. Something in me whispered, however, that this assignment was destined to go wrong.

"Remember the case you handled... three, maybe four months ago?" The man's voice was steady, his long, unkempt hair partially obscuring the square angles of his jaw.

"The... diner case?" My stomach tightened, sinking into a pit of dread. Memories I had tried to bury rose unbidden—those long nights, the smell of pizza, the echoing laughter of children, and that one... horrifying image. I didn't want to revisit that place.

"Well, there's a new restaurant—"

I cut him off with an audible sigh before he could finish.

"Is there a problem, Miss L/n?" His fingers circled nervously on the polished surface of his wooden desk, producing an irritating scraping sound.

"No. Go on." I bit the inside of my cheek, praying silently that this wouldn't turn into another nightmare.

He exhaled, shaking his head to sweep the loose strand of hair from his eyes. "A child has gone missing there."

My chest sank. I lifted one leg over the other, gripping my hands together so tightly that my knuckles whitened. I felt my pulse spike, echoing in my ears. "Really?" I managed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

A brief silence followed. I stood awkwardly, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Take a seat," he finally said, gesturing to the squeaking chair across from him. I lowered myself into it, the thin metal groaning under my weight.

"Right. So..." He leaned back slightly, exhaling as though preparing himself. "Another child is missing, yes. I want you to go back there. You've seen the building, its... mood. You already know the owners—they claimed it's a fresh start—but something is off. Something is happening there."

My mind raced. The weight of the situation pressed on me as I crossed my legs, tugging my hands tightly together. I listened carefully, absorbing every word, every detail he provided. "Same location," he said, "just a little further from St. George."

"Ah," I murmured, nodding in understanding, my voice a little distant.

"You start tomorrow." He slammed a stack of paperwork onto the desk, the sharp noise echoing in the otherwise quiet office. "No exceptions."

"Alright." I managed, trying to keep my expression neutral. Beneath the surface, curiosity warred with dread. Who could commit such acts? The mutilation... the removal of bones... what kind of person could do that?

The remainder of the day dragged on. I wandered my apartment, trying to stave off the gnawing boredom that clawed at the edges of my sanity. The television offered only four uninspiring channels, none of them worth my attention.

Don't go.

The words pierced the stillness. I whirled around, my heart leaping into my throat. Nothing. The apartment was empty. A child's voice, soft and deliberate, had whispered those words, sending a shiver down my spine.

I pressed my palms against the kitchen counter, rubbing away the thin layer of dust, trying to convince myself it had been a trick of the mind. A reality check.

Rubbing my temples, I ascended the stairs slowly, every creak underfoot amplifying my anxiety. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. I glanced nervously around the hallway, cocking my head, trying to reason with myself. Hallucination... just the pills... stop panicking.