Another Five Nights

It's Been So Long

[Henry's POV]

Remnant... dead souls possessing animatronics... purple walking corpses!? This is a lot to process...

And to think William was capable of discovering all this and heartless enough to actually test it... it all felt so... unreal. There really is no other word for it. Just... it's so baffling, I still can't believe it.

Michael believes that William might have done it to bring his son back, but the more I read into it, and review the things he did in the past, the clearer it becomes that this was planned from the start, and I was always intended to be the scapegoat.

Somehow, this info made me even madder at William than I was before. I thought the poor guy might have gone insane after losing two of his kids. I thought... I thought I was responsible for one of their deaths, and Charlie's death and my arrest were just karma biting my back. I know now that it was all planned. All a part of something he'd been planning for years, long before we started working together.

I couldn't help but think back to when we were kids... when we went to the same school together. I had trouble making friends then. My hyperfixation on building things repelled other people, but William was fascinated. He didn't care that I did stupid things like scour dumpsters for parts to make a motor. He humored my  whims and fancies, and helped build my passion as I grew older. Anything I know today about robotics, I know because of him. He was more than a friend to me. He was my teacher, my idol, and like a brother to me, and I don't remember ever putting my needs before his, not because I was forced, but because I loved him that much. It's been so long since then.

To see that all crumbling down before me was more painful than desk-slamming myself till I passed out. Trust me, I would know.

To think that I actually cared so much about him, that I blamed myself for his faults.

To think that I thought that crimes as gruesome and awful as child homicide were beyond him.

To think that I trusted him enough to look after my daughter that night... to see to her well-being, and to make sure she came home in one piece... to NOT use my absence as an excuse to drink, drive and stab my child to death...

Oh dear Lord, the thought of that makes me sick...

And then there's everything that happened to Michael... Jesus, that kid just can't catch a break, can he? First he loses his entire family within 2-3 years, and then, he dies an awful death, only to come back to life as a living dead or something. God, how is he able to hold himself together after all that?

These thoughts were swimming through my brain as I paced about the room, and were making me sad... and angry. So, so angry. I could feel the rage burning inside of me... literally burning.

I felt hot. Actually hot. I could feel sweat beads forming on the back of my neck. My palms automatically balled up into fists... and then--
Well, the next thing I remember is flexing my fingers and licking the splits on my knuckles to ease the stinging and the blood-flow. Judging from how close to the wall I was standing, I'd probably punched it pretty dang hard.

This has been happening too much recently. I start boiling with rage, and the next thing I know, I'd allegedly beaten the crap out of someone without realizing it. I probably spent 60% of my time in prison in solitary confinement without even remembering what I did to deserve it.

As I wrapped a bandage around my hand, I thought about how things were before, and how they were now. It's been so long since the smile on my face felt genuine... I didn't have to force it back then. I was so happy... we were all so happy...

My heart aches now.