One Shots at Freddy's

Missing Piece (Present)

Something is missing.

I don't know what it is, but there's like... this empty slot for something else, and I don't know what goes in it.

At first, I thought it was just because Mommy isn't here. She hasn't been since I was born. But now I realize that that isn't it.

I keep asking Daddy about it, but all he ever says is, "Don't worry about it, Charlie. I'm sure it's nothing."

I want to believe him, but I'd be delusional if I thought my dad never lied.

Sometimes I stare at the pictures on the walls, practically driving myself crazy trying to find out what on earth our two-person family was lacking, but I can't figure it out. As far as I can tell, it's only ever been "Henry and Roselle" in the Emily household before I was born, and "Henry and Charlotte" afterwards.

I asked Ella about it too, but she just shook her head. She didn't know what could possibly be gone either.
I'd ask Helpy, but he's not much of a talker. I'd have to decipher a bunch of musical notes in order to tell what he's trying to say. Besides, he was made by Mike a few months before Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place opened (and burned), so I doubt he'd know much about our family, even if he lives with us now.

Today, I'm feeling the emptiness in that empty space even more.

Daddy usually almost never leaves me alone. He hovers over me like a hawk, or a helicopter, to the point it gets so irritating that I end up yelling at him for it. I even ran away from home once, only for an hour or two, just to get away from him. I left him a note and everything telling him where I was and for how long I'd be gone. But that put him in such a panic that he wouldn't leave me out of his sight for more than a fraction of a second for a whole month. I don't blame him for this, even if it's annoying. I know how paranoid he is about losing me again.

However, today, that paranoia seems to have been drowned under an overwhelming sadness. He left me alone all through the day. He was listless and just... down. Daddy's always had this impeccable false smile that he wears almost all the time, but today, he was only barely trying to hold it up when he looked directly at me.

I found him on the couch this afternoon staring off into the distance, heavy frown-lines on his forehead, his chin resting on a fidgety palm. He looked so... frail and broken in that moment that I couldn't help but hug him.
He didn't seem to notice me at first as I climbed onto the couch next to him, but then flinched as I wrapped my arms around him.

"Hey, Charlie," he said, returning the hug, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Hi Daddy," I said. "Is something wrong?"

He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "I'm perfectly fine," he said, ruffling my hair. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been acting off..."

"Have I? I... didn't notice..." he said, lifting me onto his lap.

"Daddy... I know I still look three years old, but I'm not stupid. Tell me what's wrong."

He sighed. "I'm fine, Charlie... I'm fine... I'm fine..."

I know he wasn't.
At first, I thought it had to do with thoughts from the past that have their way with all of us at last once in a while but... this time something felt different. Something that was being hidden from me. And my gut tells me it has to do with that void I feel in our two-person family.

But no matter how much I pestered him about it all day, he would just brush it off or change the subject.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie's right, y'know?
To describe his absence as a void, I mean.

It's funny to think he would have turned fifty-one today, if he made it past seven.

Charlie was only a year old when she last saw him. She called him "Ammy", much to his annoyance. She wasn't good with her "S"es back then.
When he was gone, she went deathly silent, waddling around the house looking for him, only speaking to ask me where he was. How was she supposed to know that she was at his funeral just a day or two ago?

It's no wonder that she doesn't remember him. In fact, I was quite surprised when I realized she seemed to notice his absence recently.
I've tried so hard not to burden her with his memory. She's endured enough pain in her very, very short life. She doesn't need to know about the brother she lost as a toddler.

That doesn't mean I've forgotten about my little Sammy. He was a part of my already breaking heart, and his death left a gaping hole that even time couldn't repair.

I know that it's time to let go, that it's been over forty years and all, but it's just too hard to ignore the empty space in an incomplete puzzle.

At least I got Charlie back. At least the pictures half complete now. I'll just have to learn to live without the other half.

I just wish I could get my missing piece back...