Night 1.

8 1 0
                                    

It was a breezy night. The wing swept across the lanes, between the alleys and ran through the tops of buildings nearby. It was a fine night. We had moved to America for our studies, me and my friend. But we also had to go and raise funds for ourselves, like the other kids who are from here. I always wondered why they went for work and despised the thought of such. But then, it actually struck me- independence. I didn't want to burden my parents with all the work. They raised me hard enough. I could also fund my expenses! It was my need to go to high school, anyways.

And my buddy, Kittun also came along. All in together!

I'm anxious about this. But what can we do now? All signed up for this new job, and we need this. Money's life, you know? And Kit loves money. And so am I, though , I ask my parents to get things. Now that we're going to get them by the end of this week, we'll be able to save up and spend! Maybe a few cents for chips and juice.

We stand in front of this big, ominous pizzeria. We partnered up for the night guard position, and they thankfully allowed it. They just need somebody do to the work. I bit my lip as my friend stands there, looking quite dull. I sigh, getting how she feels. We had to ruin our sleep schedule for this damn job, and this was the only one we could get with our lack of experience in working. I started to feel even more afraid. I read the newspaper before on account of all the rumours going around about this pizzeria, all the missing incidents. I felt pity for them. They're small kids! No matter how much I despise kids, I felt sadness. If kids can't even get to see their 10th birthday these days, how much agony and misery will this world then contain?

''Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.''

I snap out of my thoughts, hearing Kittun's voice all of a sudden in between the agonizing silence. I glanced at her, seeing her tired, gloomy face.

''Come on, it's not that hard! Let's just get this over with, just 5 nights..'' She yawned in between her speech. ''-And we get approximately ummm... 1000 dollars! So that should be enough to get a real job.. and boom, we're done with this place at the end!''

Her words were a contrast to how she looked at the moment. I sighed and couldn't help but feel a surge of anxiety again, my heart was racing. I replied, ''Didn't you hear about the missing kids in the '80s? What if.. we're next?! A- And, this place was abandoned for a long time, we should get a different job!'' I spluttered out.

She waved me off with her hand as she answered. ''Eh, nothing's gonna happen, it's not like 'Purple Guy' is gonna come and haunt us! He's probably dead or in jail, and we're not kids, so no chance we are next.. we're just teens, young adults, I guess.. and I'm too lazy to find another job.'' She spoke in a monotone voice. I blinked at her words. So what if we weren't kids? It doesn't mean we're let off easily! And... Purple Guy.. who even is he? I gulped and nodded. ''Okay..'' I timidly replied. We stepped in.

Halls. Birthday rooms. A main stage. We knew there also was a Pirate Cove, not that we wanted to go there. I always preferred Foxy, not that I knew all of the robots here. They call them animatronics. I never bothered to care, and we're not paid yet to care. We decided to explore at first but due to tiredness, we walked to the Security Office and found it after some minutes. We stepped in to see a little compressed room. There were posters, and drawings. The drawings seemed to be drawn by kids. There was a dim light, some small monitors with cameras attached, with other controls we weren't really assigned to look after with. There was one chair.

''So, this is the office, I hope!'' remarked Kittun. I nodded slightly, as we stood and took in the surroundings until I told her, ''You sit on the chair.'' She looked at me and shook her head, replying, ''Eh, it's alright, you sit.''

I shook my head as I tell her, ''No, I'm telling you, it's yours.'' She shook her head again and answered back, ''No, thank you, you sit.'' I started to become frustrated as I kept my voice a little loud, saying, ''No, it's your chair.''

A Normal Week at Fred'sWhere stories live. Discover now