Chapter Twenty- Seven

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He left.

Did you leave because of me? Or because of what I warned him about?

Would you have preferred that it had been you?

Don't ostracize yourself, Michael. It only makes it worse.

I'll wait.

However long you need me to, I'll wait.

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"Hello? Hello...uh...what on earth are you doing there?"

Saturday.

By now Michael had cast aside all pretenses of normality. His expression was now permanently blank, and he'd thrown away his contact lenses. The man's unnaturally purple eyes gleamed in the dark, his sclera black. It was like he'd just walked out of his old prison once again- he could almost hear those voices ripping at his mind.

"I'm working," Michael answered, although he knew perfectly well his friend's message was pre-recorded.

"Didn't you get the memo, uh, the place is closed down, uh, at least for a while. Someone used one of the suits.

"We had a spare in the back, a yellow one, someone used it... Now none of them are acting right.

"Listen... j-just finish your shift." A steady sigh filled the room. "It's safer than trying to leave in the middle of the night. Uh we have one more event scheduled for tomorrow, a birthday." Like he hadn't heard that before. "You'll be on day shift, wear your uniform, stay close to the animatronics. Make sure they don't hurt anyone, okay? Uh for now- just make it through the night, uh when the place eventually opens again I'll probably take the night shift myself. Okay, good night and good luck."

Do not go gentle into that good night.

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It's a curious thing to be alone with your thoughts after a tragedy.

What do you turn to?

How do you handle your grief?

He pushed all thoughts out of his mind as he worked- hands, eyes, ears. All needed for one common purpose. A single mistake would mean death. Michael would embrace his lonesome later.

For now... He has a job to do.

This is where we leave him, in a building with strange mechanisms and even stranger stories.

And although this is the end, for now... Michael's story has barely just begun.

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