It was almost like I fell onto and bounced back up due to the springs on my bed. I even had to hold onto the headboard because I felt so unsteady. Okay, so I'm awake. I didn't die.
"Uhg, ow..." It was then I suddenly noticed a pain in my cheek. When I pressed it, it hurt more. I noticed a couple bruises on my arm. There was nothing on my legs, but something in my ribs really hurt. I must've been flailing around in my sleep, or... REALLY forcefully dragged out of Freddy's, or dropped, or-
"Faith, he's just fine. He fainted, so I just brought him back home."
Huh? Was Dad talking to someone? I got out of bed and pressed my ear to the door.
"I don't know, William, you rushed him to his room REALLY quick. And why was he so bruised up? Did something happen?" Mom and Dad were talking.
"The robots fell over on top of him. He passed out, or got knocked out, it's fine."
"Well, this seems to happen a lot. At least whenever he's at Freddy's, anyway! You need to keep him away from there."
"I've tried!" Dad raised his voice. "I sealed his window! I locked his door! I used the disks! How the hell did he get out now?"
"I have no idea!"
How did he get out? Trapping me in my own room? Why are they talking about me like I'm some kind of animal that needs to be kept in its cage forever? I wonder if my door is locked right now. I reached up and tried to turn the handle.
I was locked in. I started getting claustrophobic again, and now my door is shut, my window is sealed... I'm completely trapped.
"I think he might've gotten out through Terry's window," Mom said. "I never heard the front door open. Or the back."
"Dammit, do I have to seal all the windows in this house?" Dad cried in a fit of rage. "You need to keep a closer eye on him!"
"I know, I'm sorry," Mom said, "But all he does is stay in his room all day talking to himself, and the only times he ever leaves is when I call him to come eat."
"Should I have left up the cameras?" Dad asked, defeated.
"No, no. They didn't do much good in the first place."
So there were security cameras now. I really am just some animal that needs caged. And the talking to myself, I won't exactly deny that.
Since I'm still dead-set on figuring out what's going on here, I'll try to talk with all the dead kids, which proves to be mildly ineffective. Do ghost voices just have a vocabulary of vague pronouns? Maybe not, since the girl with the red sweater, Rachel, Kendal, and... to an extent, Charlie, have all spoken to me. Are they choosing to be vague on purpose?
I jiggled the door handle a few more times, hoping to get the attention of anyone in the house. For a few seconds, there was no response. After another minute, I heard footsteps drawing closer to the door.
Rather than backing up, knowing the door would come swinging open from the outside, I still stood right in front of the door, still holding onto the handle.
I should've been surprised when the door swung open at full force, smacking me dead in the face. The doorknob, still in my hands, hit me in the eye, and I fell backwards from the force.
"Auhg!" I cried, trying to cradle my whole face at once. I might've landed on my tailbone as well, so now everything hurt.
"How the hell did you get back there?"Asked an angry voice that could only belong to my dad. I grumbled something to myself about the door not being locked until just now, but Dad kept talking. "You want to know why you're always trapped? It seems like you already know, but I'll tell you anyway." I didn't know. "Why did you want to leave? There was nothing there! What was at Freddy's that you wanted to see so much? There were no dead kids, no dead friends..." I watched Dad pace across my room while ranting about something I did before I got bit.
Apparently, I'd sneak out to go to a Freddy's location called Freddy Jr.'s. It was more kiddie, bigger than the original location, and had a carousel that I really liked. For some reason Dad doesn't know, I'd always sneak out. My current theory is that the house was just as toxic and divided as it seems right now, and I just wanted to get out before I got hurt.
"Michael, are you listening to me?" I snapped out of my head, because no, I was not listening. "How did you get out?"
"Through Terry's room," I said. "My door wasn't locked until-"
"Just now, I know," Dad cut off. He stood in contemplation for a second. "Promise me something really quick." I nodded, knowing I was going to ignore whatever was said to me. "Don't go sticking your nose in places you don't belong. Your mom just wants you to... have a normal life, and messing around and giving yourself an existential crisis might be a bad idea. Because there are some things you just don't need to know about."
"Uh... okay?" I said. I was lying to myself. Dad nodded, then left, shutting the door behind him. I didn't hear him turn the lock.
YOU ARE READING
Blurred Childhood
FanfictionDISCLAIMER: I wrote this story before the Fazbear Fright books came out, more or less confirming that Foxy Bro is Michael Afton. I took this story down for a little while because I wasn't sure what else to do with it, but I decided to put it back up...