𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨, 𝙊𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨. // WILLIAM AFTON X READER

.°○ PROLOGUE. ○°.

  » [Oh Klahoma] «
  [[{Jack Stauber}]]
0:59 ─〇───── 3:05
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A/N: This takes place in modern times, Afton has not killed children, but he has a very odd fascination with knives and death, he kills adults occasionally // He is 36 years old, Michael is 18, Elizabeth is 9 and Evan/C.C is 6

"A horrid memory, dreadful present."

You hadn't really known what was going on at first. You only remembered begging for your mother, crying your little heart out. You were on a plane for hours, arriving in a foreign country you had never been in before. America. Nevada, to be specific. You were just 10 years old, with a family that hated each other. Your parents always fought, your mother being slightly better than your father.

Your mother, Claire, was a smoker. She was a terrible mother, but she cared more than your father. She offered you cigarettes to calm you down during your panic attacks, which started an addiction at 9. She got beat by your father, which traumatised you and made you gain anxiety and depression at a horrifyingly young age.

Your father was negligent. He sometimes didn't even know you existed, and all you wanted was his attention. You weren't even his child. Your mother had gone out and cheated with another man. Fortunately, your father didn't know. At 10, your schoolteacher noticed your anxious and closed off personality, you would flinch whenever someone raised their hand near you, seeing various burn marks on your hands due to having to cook food on the stove and burning yourself accidentally.

She had called your parents, who yelled at you, for acting like a fool at school. You were always called weird in class, and you would have private classes to help with socialisation. Your teacher noticed a big bruise on your eye, and that's when Child Protective Services were called.

You were taken from your home after they found drugs, alcohol and a foul mess all over the house. You remember bawling, choking on your breath, and holding your mother's hand as you were pried away from the comfort of your broken home and through an uncomfortable "protective" system.

You initially thought that your new foster home would be loving. Unfortunately, that was not the case. They didn't acknowledge your presence and were often very cold towards you.

That led you here.

You are 19 years old, struggling with medicated depression and anxiety, attitude, an addiction to cigarettes and alcohol, a questionable clothing choice, and a messy bedroom that you tend to rot away in. You get degraded by your foster parents, Tracey and Ben. You hate being here, but it's all you have.

You sometimes wish you had been a 'blue-eyed blondie, perfect body' (quoted from one of your favourite songs), a popular school life, and a healthy home. Perhaps that would've changed your outcome.

Yet here you are.

Drinking yourself to sleep with music playing in your ears.