༺FNAF༻ Victimized

Five Days Until the Party

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"Locked in your room again..
It's dark and there's no place to hide..
The fears now escaped your brain..
They lurk around to hunt you d o w n.."

☠

I didn't sleep well that night. Not after hearing the news.

I cringed and smacked the top of my alarm clock to cease its screeching. The red text flashed repeatedly. Six a.m. Early, I know. But I had to say goodbye to Daddy before work.

I slipped off my bed, checking underneath it first of course, and creaked my door open. My vision darted here and there, making sure Max wasn't up yet. The coast was clear. I darted down the hallway and to the kitchen, my socked feet slipping a bit on the white tiled floor.

I flipped on the lights, squinting slightly and waiting for my eyes to adjust. Blindly, I scrambled to one of the cupboards and scrounged for the box of pop tarts. My actions were almost automatic, since I went through the same routine everyday.

Grabbing a cherry and a s'mores flavored pop tart, I scooted a stool to the counter and plopped them in the toaster. I heard Daddy shuffling down the hallway and I raced to my chair. He came into view, wearing nothing but his fluffy, purple pajama pants. I smiled. He'd always had a soft spot anything purple. I always thought it was ironic how his uniform was his favorite color.

The pop tarts popped up as soon as he entered the kitchen, causing him to jump slightly in surprise. I suppressed a giggle. He yawned, groggy as he always was before his morning coffee, and smiled sleepily at me.

"Dobroye utro, Daddy!" I peeped a greeting. Russian for 'good morning'.

"Dobroye utro, sinok."

His flawless accent put my pathetic attempt at his native language to shame. It awed me the way those complex words rolled off his tongue so naturally.

He went about the morning ritual, turning on the coffee maker and plopping the pop tarts onto plates. He handed me mine, knowing I had selected cherry for myself as usual. A warm hand ruffled my hair, bringing a brief smile to my lips.

I nibbled at the pastry gingerly. I still felt sick to my stomach, the thought of what lie on my ninth birthday still clutching me tight with terror. After a few moments he sat down across from me with a cup of hot coffee in one hand and the s'mores tart in the other. His silver eyes smiled at me as he sipped.

"You and your brother stay safe today, yeah?"

I nodded, my gaze lowering at the thought of Max.

He could sense this, for I heard him sigh softly. A half smile tugged at his lips. "Don't worry, sinok. Things'll get better, I promise. I've already had a talk with Max, and he said he'll stop with the Foxy mask."

My hopes didn't lift as he'd suspected them to. Max was never exactly honest. He always put on that goody two shoes act, but when Daddy wasn't around, he was the spawn of satan..

Nevertheless, I didn't want Daddy to worry over me, so I nodded and forced a smile.

We were silent for a good while, me lost in my own troubled thoughts and Daddy reading the newspaper and sipping his coffee. After he'd finished, he rose and left to get ready for work. I hardly noticed. My eyes glazed over as I stared blankly at my uneaten breakfast. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to stay here with Max. I didn't want to go to work with Daddy for obvious reasons.. I didn't want to do anything.