Five Nights At Freddy's

Chapter Nine: Mrs. Bizet's Home for Children

  You can't save them Mike... the voice repeated with a deep laugh. 
  "Who are you?  What do you want from me?" 
  It's me, Mike... it's me...

  Mike awoke with a start due to a sudden turbulence shaking through his car.  He yelped, slamming his foot down on the breaks as the sounds of screeching metal filled his eardrums.  The car stopped shortly. Mike cursed loudly, unbuckling himself and hopping out to view the damage.  The front of the car was dented, the imprint of a metal rod sticking out of the ground clearly evident on its black paint, and the left headlight was busted in, red shards of plastic littering the grass. He cursed again, scolding himself for falling asleep.
  "Goodness!"  A voice said from behind.  He jumped slightly, turning wildly to see an elderly woman in a yellow dress and pearls. "Are you alright, sir?" 
  "Yes, I'm okay," Mike managed, rubbing the back of his head, "I just... this is not what I needed today." 
  "What happened?"
  "I must have fallen asleep..." Mike muttered shamefully.  The woman looked him up and down, spying his badge. 
  "You're the new night guard, aren't you?" She asked. 
  "Yes," he replied, taken aback, "I'm uh... I'm Mike Schmidt." She tapped her glasses. 
  "I'm Mrs. Bizet, I run the local orphanage.  Used to, anyway. You look exhausted.  Here, come with me.  You can use my phone to call your insurance agent and then you can get some rest."
  "I couldn't," Mike argued, but Mrs. Bizet swatted the idea away with a wrinkled old hand.
  "You'd be doing me a favor, I haven't had company in ages. Besides, I won't take no for an answer." Mike sighed, looking back at his car. He didn't have too much of a choice. He nodded.
  "Thank you for your kindness," he managed.

  Mrs. Bizet led him down the broken sidewalk to a rickety two story brown with dirt. The cracking windows shone like spiderwebs in the morning sun. Power lines draped overhead like vines and in the distance a feral dog was barking. Mike swallowed, the chipping sign to the right of the black door reading: Mrs. Bizet's Home for Children.
  "How long have you lived in town?" Mike asked politely as they entered the creaking abode.
  "All my life, since the thirties," she informed proudly, "this house used to be an insane asylum, I turned it into the orphanage you see now in the late fifties. It's... quiet now. I haven't had any children here for some time." Mike shuddered. "Cold? Here." She led him into the front parlor, a pink room reeking of mothballs. She forced him down into a satin couch and draped a white crotchet blanket over him. "The phone's on the table beside you. You get some rest, I'll make some breakfast." Mike wanted to protest but the idea of sleep was quickly pulling him into a dark abyss. He shook his head, reaching for the phone shakily to call his insurance agent. Just my luck, he thought miserably.

  Two hours passed before Mrs. Bizet woke him, her stiff hand shaking his shoulder. He lifted himself from the couch with a start, not sure where he was for a moment before the memories of the morning came flooding back. It had started to rain outside, causing the window behind him to be dowsed in droplets. Mrs. Bizet sat a plate of eggs, bacon, and biscuits before him, a steaming pot of coffee teasing his nostrils. He dug in, thanking her profusely between bites of food.
  "You look half starved," Mrs. Bizet noted critically, sitting across from him in a crackling rocking chair. "I called the police chief, he's an old friend of mine, he's working on getting your car towed to the mechanic now. He said when you need a ride home to just give him a call."
  "That wouldn't happen to be Officer Jesse, would it?"
  "It would!" Mrs. Bizet informed proudly, "I wasn't aware you two were acquainted. Jesse doesn't hang around the pizzeria often, but especially not after Violet's shift."
  "You know Ms. Jackson?" Mike asked, taking a sip of coffee from his mug. It warmed his bones. Mrs. Bizet scoffed.
  "Know her? She was one of mine, a downright terror at that..."
  "One... of yours?" Mike asked. Mrs. Bizet nodded, standing. She walked slowly to the mantel behind her and took a framed photograph from it, shaking her head.
  "Here she is," she informed, handing Mike the picture. A group of twelve children stood smiling... all except one at the very far end. She was thin and pale, her eyes dark and her hair matted. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her and her lip pouted. Mike grinned softly.
  "That's Violet alright." Mrs. Bizet pursed her lips disapprovingly, taking the photo back. "I didn't realize she was an orphan, granted, I don't know much about her admittedly."
  "It was tragic really," Mrs. Bizet informed bluntly, "her parents were just passing through when their car crashed not too far from where yours did. They were both killed, only Violet survived. She was only a baby when I took her in and raised her. No one ever claimed the bodies so we have no idea where she came from."
  "That's terrible," Mike muttered. A lot of Violet's quirks were suddenly starting to make a little bit of sense.
  "She's a very reserved person," Mrs. Bizet continued, "it certainly leaves room for everyone else to fill in the blanks."
  "What do you mean?"
  "Well... every small town has it's rumors, Mr. Schmidt. As the night guard I'm sure you know about at least some of the dreadful things that have happened at that restaurant... Mr. Iris doesn't like to talk about it and Violet's always been tight lipped... so people around here... we talk."
  "I see," Mike agreed, leaning back. "Well, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"
  "But of course not," she grinned, sitting back down in her rocking chair eagerly. "I thought you'd never ask." Mike smirked slightly.
  "Well, what do you know about the disappearances?"
  "Oh it was dreadful," Mrs. Bizet gasped, "those poor children... five of them, if I remember correctly. Nothing was ever found of them; one minute they were there at the restaurant and the next..." her voice trailed off, "I was just happy they arrested the bastard that did it."
  "What did Violet have to say about it?"
  "Oh Violet seemed like she was beside herself, of course," Mrs. Bizet answered tentatively, "I mean, she practically grew up there, so I suppose that's understandable. You see, every Sunday, I'd take the children up to Fred Bear's as a treat. For something so heinous to happen at a place so sentimental to her... dreadful."
  "Do you know anything about the children that went missing?" Mike pressed. Mrs. Bizet thought.
  "As a matter of fact, I do. The oldest was named Jack... he was about fourteen at the time. He was Mr. Iris's grandson, I believe."
  "Really?" Mike demanded, surprise riddling his voice. Mrs. Bizet nodded, suddenly enthused by his shock.
  "Curious, isn't it? The other four didn't have a connection to anyone at the restaurant... at least not at the time.  People say that perhaps they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time?" Mike furrowed his brow, finding this highly unlikely. If one of the victims really was Mr. Iris's grandson... that doesn't just happen. No... this wasn't senseless. There was a motive.
  "What about the Glenn family?" He asked, trying not to think about his grim conversation with Jeremy, "can you tell me anything about Violet's connection to Thomas Glenn?" Mrs. Bizet sighed, standing once more. She crossed her arms.
  "Violet was... a troubled child... it was hard to care for her. She was a kleptomaniac, deeply cruel to the other children, and just... overall odd..." Mrs. Bizet adjusted herself proudly. "Of course, I did my best to care for her, I truly did. I feel that perhaps... Violet just vibrated on a different frequency than the rest of us." Mike frowned, a sudden chill coming over him as the rain pounded the window behind him. Something about the way Mrs. Bizet spoke didn't sit right with him. "Thomas was the security guard at Freddy Fazbear's at the time... he was young but already had a child so he knew his way around a problem like Violet. He was the only person she took a liking to. Violet and the other children would fight all the time but she'd be a complete angel around Thomas."
  "Why didn't he adopt her?" Mike asked.
  "He wanted to," Mrs. Bizet agreed solemnly, "Thomas loved children and he spoke to me frequently about taking Violet... but then his wife died and he didn't have enough money to take care of anyone else." Mike darkened.
  "That's... horrible."
  "Violet and Thomas stayed close, though," Mrs. Bizet continued. "She used to sneak out to go visit the Glenns... she became a part of their family one way or another. By the time she turned thirteen, she had all but moved in with them. Thomas got her the job at Freddy's when she was about fifteen and it was enough to get by... that is until the bite happened."
  "Dexter..." Mike agreed. Mrs. Bizet nodded.
  "Violet changed after that. In some ways it was a good change, she was much more mature... but it was like something inside her snapped."
  "What do you mean?" Mike asked. Mrs. Bizet shook her head grimly.
  "Just... rumors... Mr. Schmidt... us old timers get stories wedged in our heads from time to time and it's hard to weed out the ridiculous." Thunder rolled outside. "What's done is done," she finished solemnly, "no amount of rumor mill can bring those babies back."
  "Who do you think did it?" Mike prodded. Mrs. Bizet hesitated.
  "Well, they arrested the night guard..."
  "You think he did it?"
  "I think he was suspicious, yes," she agreed, "but at the time, who wasn't suspicious? The other night guard had just been fired which gave him a motive but they found him dead in his own home when they went to interrogate him."
  "What about Violet?"
  "She had an alibi," Mrs. Bizet muttered, "but I'll be damned... I saw that little monster grow up... there's a dark part of me that thinks she did it."

  Suddenly, the phone rang. Mrs. Bizet jumped, adjusting her glasses carefully before she answered.
  "Hello? Jesse!" She greeted, "yes he's awake and doing much better, yes. Mmhmm. Fifteen minutes would be lovely, I'm sure he'd like to get home and cleaned up. Thank you!" She hung up and cleared her throat. "That was Officer Jesse, he'll be here shortly to drive you home."
  "Thank you for your hospitality," Mike managed graciously, trying to ignore the shock building inside him. Violet? The killer? It couldn't be, right? She was a bit rude, sure, but... a murderer? Mrs. Bizet seemed to know his thoughts were racing.
  "Officer Jesse has had his eye on Ms. Jackson since high school. If anyone knows anything about her, it's him." With that, she picked up the dishes on the coffee table and retreated into the kitchen across from Mike, leaving him to stew in the darkness of his thoughts.