Another Five Nights

Night 6

I didn't know what to focus my mind on anymore. The fact that Toby just mysteriously disappeared without even a goodbye, or that I had to spend a sixth night with the vagabonds made for kids' "entertainment" at Freddy's.

At least I was fairly rested this time. Even if that meant I'd sacrificed a few patches of skin to the maggots swarming my room. Yikes...

The walk to the pizzeria was fairly uneventful. It was around 11:50 pm, after all. Not many people around, apart from a few drunk college students and people coming home from work.

I usually don't like sparsely crowded places. They make me more noticeable to the few people that are there. However, in the cover of night, my hoodie was hiding me fairly well, and people driving around that late have better things to be bothered about than queerly dressed strangers.

Soon enough, I was at the entrance of the pizzeria. With a deep sigh, I swung the door open. I could only imagine how aggressive the animatronics would be on a sixth night.

I've been through way, way worse challenges before, with way more animatronics after me, and even lower chances of survival. However, the present sometimes cancels out the past. A few months of slacking, and you find yourself all rusty, having to relearn everything quicker than you can handle, the slightest error or miscalculation being your very undoing and your untimely demise.

The funny thing is, I often long for death's cold embrace, until its clutches come close enough to touch me. Am I just a coward?

"Hi..."

I was dislodged from my reverie by a familiar voice, holding a very unfamiliar somber tone.

From the doorway of the Security Room, I saw Jeremy sitting at the desk with his head down, cheek squished against the desk, arm supporting his noggin. His eyes lacked their usual brightness, and were lowered towards the tabletop. Now that I had found out about the rotting skin, it was far more noticeable under the blond waves covering his forehead.

"Hey, Jerry... you... okay...?" I enquired, removing my mask.

"No..."

"What's wrong?" I asked, stepping towards him and crouching by the chair, meeting his gaze.

"He's dead, isn't he?" It was more of a statement than a question, but he still held my stare as if wanting confirmation.

I must have been staring at him blankly, because he added, "Toby, I mean..."

"I... I know what you meant..."

"Then... why don't you answer?"

"Because... because I don't know, Jerry. I can only speculate. I don't want to jump to conclusions yet..."
It was the most honest answer I could give him, although the words felt strange and deformed in my mouth. Mike Schmidt, optimistic, practical and oblivious to the world, was still holding on to the hope that Toby would pop into the office all smiles at six o' five the next morning. Michael Afton, however, unreasonable and cynical, had already come to terms with the silly, sunshine-y seventeen-year-old's demise. Schmidt was concerned and devastated, but hopeful. Afton was numb.

Jeremy straightened himself, wiping his face with his hands and shaking his head until his hair fell into place, only to fall back into his eyes.

"Looks like we're together for another night..."

"What do you--?" I glanced at the time. It was 12:23 am. The exits had been locked 23 minutes ago.

"At least you won't be alone tonight!" Jeremy said, with his usual, cheery grin. However, this time, the smile didn't spread to his eyes, which still looked dull and lost.