"𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍." - Reba McEntire. "Fancy". 1990.
🐻Fancy🐰Mike🐤Ness🦊Vanessa✨
In which, Francine Jenkins is a Yale pre law and criminal justice major completing her senior thesis...
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*Mentions and graphic(ish) descriptions of someone literally getting abducted in this chapter* ~~
The upper hand. Oh how sweet, how amazing it was to have and to hold over someone.
Fancy had heard of the upper hand many times, she had been told she had it in life because her father had what everyone wanted - money. But that just wasn't the case. If you asked Fancy herself she would tell you that she never had the upper hand in any situation. Maybe she was lucky to have money in her life. Maybe she was smart enough to get into Yale. But having the upper hand? No that certainly wasn't her.
At least not until now. Not until she sat across from the William Afton, her cold case solved. "You can't just come in here and accuse me of being... someone else." "I can." She said. "Freedom of speech. Oh I love the American Constitution and the rights it gives me, don't you, Mr. Afton?" He didn't respond.
"So here's how this is going to go, I'm going to ask you some questions and you're gonna answer them." "And if I don't?" "I can answer for you but I don't think you want that." "And why not?" "Mine is the honest truth. I leave no details out." she stared at him, she looked into his eyes. She held eye contact. Eye contact with a murderer. A monster.
But this monster was defeated. She had taken him down piece by piece and now it was time to officially slay the dragon and put an end to all of this suffering once and for all. But it wouldn't be an end for her, no, her monster was still on the loose. Her personal monster.
"You see," She continued, "for years people have been saying about you, Mr. Afton 'I think he did it but I just can't prove it'. And that was your goal, wasn't it?" He didn't move. He didn't shift. He didn't say anything.
"You wanted to commit the crime and leave no trace behind. And without a body or bodies for the medical examiner to exhume a time of death for the missing children, why, you practically had it. You just had to keep those children hidden. That was it. Your one rule." He sniffed.
Fancy continued. "This led you to establish a fairly solid alibi. Police had always suspected that the murders took place December 30th 1983, at roughly 6pm. But you weren't there, at that time were you? You were with a friend playing poker, am I correct?" William nodded. "And that's because the murders didn't actually take place around that time, did they? Those children were killed between the hours of 3-4pm, weren't they, Mr. Afton?"
"You can't prove that." "I can't." Fancy said with a nod. "But I can prove that you did it." "How?" "I have evidence of your involvement in the missing children's case." "How?" his voice raised, loud and angry. "That's not possible." "It is." She said. "Now sit down. We aren't finished yet."
