Sorry.. |FNaF PG x PG fanfiction|

Sarcasm

/tw/

And its from this world of darkness which come the evil, destructive forces of man's nature..

He couldn't stop shaking. The harsh tone of voice kept repeating over and over. He felt them just clawing at his throat, slowly trying to rip apart his every move. Crimson would pour from the wounds as he became just another suicidal kid who was only fucked up in the head for unknown reasons.

The voice wouldn't stop coming back.

"Stupid.. Worthless.. You're not worth it.."

He didn't know why he was walking back to the place he always called his home. The old house was stained with the age. He slowly headed into the house, preparing for the yells from his mother, the cold gaze landing and burning through him, pain leaping through his nervous system when she decided to lash out.

It never came.

Yet, there was a different yell-tone of voice. A voice he knew well, yet didn't want to try to talk to at the moment. He quickly headed to his room, not wanting to try and even look at the two. They were arguing over something, something he probably didn't care about.. Like.. Jobs or some crap like that.

He closed his door, glancing towards the window on the second story. It turned silent for him, the voice had shut up. The shouting from the two stopped. It seemed to go into dead silence. He was sick of the voices and what he saw. Why couldn't they let him be?

He knew they came. He felt their pushing and shoving, despite them never being there with him. They knew they would never win in trying to get him there down in their fiery abyss. How'd he know it was them? The easy fact that he started to hear the shouts and screams again.

He didn't want to keep going on like this. He felt imaginary thread slowly wrap its way into his mouth, sewing it shut. Their guillotine gleams with the blood of their enemies, watching him get sentenced. The sentence turned ceased.

He was holding on so tightly now, trying not to drown in the pain of what they was causing. He kept fighting, but he swore he couldn't go on like this. Slowly, his organs spilt from his mouth, crimson slowly making its way up his throat, the warm, sticky liquid tasting like metal as it fell with his organs.

It stopped, slowly disappearing into nothing.
Sentence: deceased.

He didn't know when he was crying. He knew it wasn't 'manly' or whatever in the hell people say, but he couldn't help it. They pulled at his skin, slowly ripping apart his skin. Blood poured from the wounds, forming a sticky, gelatin like puddle at his feet. They laughed and it went away again.

He felt warm hands on his shoulders, pulling him from the area he laid in. He didn't know who it was, but he decided to melt into whoever it was. He didn't know exactly what was happening except he felt something being put over his hands, keeping them from moving. He looked up, seeing two or so men. He didn't know who they were, or why they were here when it dawned.

Fuck no..

He widen his eyes, quickly trying to get away anyway. He didn't want to go back, not now. Not when they were being especially active. He used his mouth to grab a half-pair of scissors, quickly trying to stab the grabby arms of the men. The two quickly backed away.

He looked at his hands. The brace was gone. He looked up, green eyes quickly looking around. The men were gone. Was it all hallucinations? Words of Fritz quickly made their way into his mind.