Unnamed...for now.

I

⋰(~♥️♦️♣️♠️ ♥️♦️♣️♠️ ♥️♦️♣️♠️ ♥️♦️♣️♠️ ♦️♣️ ♥️♦️♣️♠️ ♥️♦️♣️♠️ ♥️♦️♣️♠️ ♥️♦️♣️♠️ ♥️♦️♣️♠️~)⋱

⚠ Triggers: Death of a child, cursing. Mentions of blood, damaged organs, wounds, depression, and weaponry. ⚠

⭐[~\_____________________________________________/~]⭐

          Michael sat still in his bed, remembering that day at the pizzeria. It was the day that he matured. It was the day of finally seeing responsibility. That day, on Chris' birthday, he killed his brother accidentally. It was supposed to be a prank. He didn't know this could happen, it's not his fault. It was just a mistake, that's all it was. He knew that he wasn't drinking or on something such as weed (Even though it did seem cool that one of his friends could do that, he didn't want to do any of it), no, it was all because of his grief. He remembered that day in grave detail, even though many weeks had already passed by. The blood and stringy parts of his brain were splattered all over and sitting inside the animatronics' jaw, the animatronic still dancing and singing as it was programmed to, forever being a puppet by its coding. Children that were nearby were screaming and crying in horror of it all, them being forever traumatized from the scene. He hated himself for doing that to Chris back then. He wished that he could just take it all back. But he knows that he can't change the past...right? Of course not, magic doesn't exist...Does it? He's starting to doubt himself. He knows that he's losing his mind because of this to this day, but at the same time, he's keeping it intact for the sake of his dead brother. Why couldn't he stop himself from doing this? It should've been him to die. There was a sudden knock on his door while a small creak was following behind. Michael twisted his head toward the door, almost to the point of straining his neck in the process. His father was at the door, his arms being crossed and wearing his usual white formal top with his signature purple bowtie and a set of royal purple jeans, the white tope having a black jacket, probably hinting that he's getting ready for his shift of the night. "Get up. Dinner's almost ready." Michael groaned, mostly in disappointment and in grief that it was his father at his door, landing face-first into his comfortable, prince-sized bed while quickly wrapping a small blanket around him, his father looking and being quite unimpressed at his action. "I'm not getting your lazy ass out here, be lucky I'm too busy, Michael." "Fine." Michael said back in a croaky, yet snappy tone towards his father. He didn't feel like eating, anyhow. Unfazed by his response, his father shut the door and left, his footsteps being heard on the other side of the bedroom. Michael slowly sat up on his bed while stretching his arms out, and looked at the fox mask that was across his room on his desk, the same one that he wore on that day. He didn't know why he kept it even after the recent event he could've just thrown it out, better yet recycle it. He soon heard the sounds of small, yet quick pair of footsteps going through the hallway downstairs, him assuming it was his younger sister, Elizabeth. Michael soon let out a long sigh, deciding to get out of his bed to eat something. He wasn't planning to eat anything healthy tonight, he wanted to eat something to get his mind off of the past school week. God, how that was embarrassing for him. He soon made himself get out of his bed, laid on the floor for a few moments to process that he's now getting up and out of his room, and slowly brought himself upwards to stretch. When he was done with waking his limbs, he put a pair of gray and white patterned socks on so the cold floor outside of the room wouldn't feel like cold, piercing icebergs, stabbing and going through his skin as slowly as possible, the pain sinking into his foot to his leg, the feeling slowly climbing upward to his skull and brain. He felt quite nauseous with the thought, him shivering a bit while he thought of what could happen, the cold needle-like flooring going through his skin, his leg internally bleeding and the squish of his muscles going numb by every passing moment. Luckily for him, the stairs to the main part of the floor are carpeted, the carpet color being a light brown and it having a soft texture for a type of landing such as that. He slowly got up, put on his favorite pair of socks so he could disrupt this event from happening in the first place, and opened his door, putting his body through the frame of his door and going into the hallway.