Five Nights At Freddy's

Chapter Thirteen: In Tatters

  As promised, the party wrapped up just before eleven, giving Mike plenty of time to get to the pizzeria before his shift. Full of cake and weariness, he felt himself nervously bouncing around the ending conversations, grappling at his thoughts as though falling through a trapdoor. When it was time to leave, he found himself absentmindedly wishing everyone a good night and making his way to his bike. A voice from beside the door stopped him.
  "Hey," Violet greeted. Mike turned in surprise, spying her leaning against the house in her black dress and a purple jacket.
  "Hey," Mike replied, "I thought you'd left already." Violet shrugged.
  "I figured you may want a ride to the pizzeria, it's quite a distance." Mike glanced at the bike, swallowing.
  "That's... awfully kind of you."
  "It's no trouble," Violet stated with a shrug. "Come on, I walked over. My car's parked at my house. You can put your bike in the back."

  The two walked in silence, Mike dragging his bike along side him. The heat itched his skin and the crickets were singing loud enough to deafen his ears.  Violet walked with her arms crossed as though cold, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
  "I didn't realize you and the boss lived near each other," Mike commented. Violet smirked.
  "Yeah, I've lived here for a while now." Mike nodded, watching the houses grow smaller and smaller and dingier and dingier. An abandoned park nearby squeaked as they passed, looking as though it hadn't had a child near it in several years. "You and the boss are old friends then?"
  "Old something," she shrugged, "I used to date his grandson."
  "Oof!" Mike humored, knowing all of this already, "is that where the awkward tension comes from?" Violet grimaced.
  "It's... probably part of it."
  "What kind of boyfriend are we talking here?" Mike pressed, jamming his hands in his pockets, "like... a passing flirtation? We went to a school dance and... marched around a bit?" Violet chuckled, shaking her head.
  "No. We were very close... he was my first love I guess," she blushed, looking up at the sky, "... I guess." Mike's mouth thinned.
  "What happened?" Violet paused in contemplative silence. At last, she turned back to him, oddly gentle.
  "He died." Mike frowned.
  "I'm sorry."
  "Have you ever been in love, Mr. Schmidt?" She asked suddenly. Mike raised his eyebrows in surprise, thinking. At last he shook his head, looking down at the concrete.
  "I don't think so. Not really anyway. Not with a person. I was in love with ideas, you know. As a kid... I really enjoyed those old detective movies."
  "The black and white ones?" Violet smiled, "Thomas and I used to stay up late and watch those."
  "You and Thomas were close, huh?" Violet nodded.
  "He practically raised me... he was so kind and his family just took me in like I... like I belonged." She swallowed. "I was a troubled kid, Mr. Schmidt. I wasn't easy to love." She wiped her eyes, shaking slightly. "Do you mind if I smoke?"
  "Not at all," Mike insisted. Violet nodded, thanking him under her breath. She withdrew a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket and popped one in her mouth, her lipstick staining the paper. In her other hand, she held a purple lighter. After striking it a few times with her shaky hands, she groaned in frustration. "Here," Mike tried, reaching for the lighter. Violet froze, allowing him to take it, watching him carefully as he struck it. A small, red flame reflected in her eyes as she leaned forward, lighting her cigarette. Mike swallowed, handing the lighter back to her. "You really like purple, huh?" He asked. She chuckled, smoke blowing between her teeth in the wind.
  "How'd you guess?" Violet asked, grinning. "It's... probably unhealthy, I know. It was Thomas's favorite color too. We used to have a stupid tradition of finding the most outlandish purple thing for the other."
  "Who won?"
  "I guess... he did," she winced. "You know how Vincent Van Gogh wasn't considered successful until after he died... I guess Thomas won in kind of the same way." The two stopped as she pointed at the driveway of an old, white house practically leaning against the red sky. Her purple car sat in the driveway. Mike sighed.
  "That... is pretty outlandish." She chuckled, nodding.
  "Oh he loved that damn car," she explained, shaking her head, "he hated it when others would take it for a spin."
  "It was popular?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. Violet nodded, puffing her cigarette.
  "Oh yeah, it's the only one like it in town.  Don't tell anyone, but even though I was underage he'd let me drive it to and from Freddy's sometimes, especially if I was running late."  She practically skipped to the car, unlocking and opening the back door for Mike to slide his bike in.  It was tight, but it fit.  "Hop in," she grinned, circling the car to the driver's side.  Mike did as he was told, sinking into the black leather.  It smelled of cigarette smoke and faintly of men's cologne. Violet started the car, and reversed, pulling out into the road swiftly as her other hand turned off the radio. After a pause, Violet turned to Mike. "We've got time, you wanna see the old building?" Mike's eyes widened.
  "Oh of course." Violet grinned, turning the car in the opposite direction of the pizzeria.