Nyctophobia

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Author's Note: I'm back! I've decided to leave Autophobia and my AU as they are, at least for now. Welcome back to the series. :) 

Charlie exhaled sharply as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Her father's funeral reception was winding down and she'd had enough. She'd had enough sympathy and enough hugs. She'd had enough of Michael and John staring each other down. She'd made it very clear that no one was to follow her upstairs. The house felt colder than ever before, and it wasn't because it was the dead of Winter. Charlie hugged herself as she sat down on her bed, allowing a few tears to fall. She had to force them- it was wrong not to cry. That was what she told herself over and over again.

Her father was dead, slayed by a nightmare apparition. Of course, only she and Michael knew that. Everyone else was under the impression that it was a freak murder. Charlie had come down the stairs to see a shadow of a man running out the door, having stabbed her father. That shadow of a man was William Afton. There was a knock on the door.

"No." She called, laying down on the bed and putting a pillow over her face. She didn't care that she was ruining the makeup Jessica had caked on her face, which she'd only agreed to wear because her face was ruddy and her eyes were puffy.

"It's me, honey." Aunt Jen said as though it made a difference.

"No!" She repeated. "Go away!"

"Charlie, it's important."

"I said NO!" Charlie chucked her foundation-stained pillow at the door and let out a genuine sob.

"It's about your father's will."

Her mouth gaped and she stared at the ceiling. A will? Wills were for old people on the verge of death. Her father wasn't that old (he was 52). She felt her heart sink- he'd probably known that William-or something else- would catch up to him.

"...It's unlocked."

Aunt Jen entered with a large manila envelope. She looked as exhausted as Charlie felt, her normally vibrant smile weak. Charlie sat up on the bed.

"Dad has a will?"

"Yes. We wrote ours together, actually, with the same attorney." Jen joined her on the bed. "I think you'll like what it says, but..."

"...But what?"

Her aunt chewed on her lower lip and undid the clasp of the envelope with a shaking hand.

"It's... a lot. For you. You're 19."

Charlie looked at her aunt quizzically.

"I'll spare you all the legal jargon. He left Junior's to you."

"What?" This shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. On so many levels. For one, running Junior's wasn't cheap- she'd seen the electric bills and the employee payroll. Then there were all the stocks. "I... we can't afford to-" She choked.

"He also left his business accounts, and a good chunk of his personal account, to you. But that money by itself will only keep things running for six months at most. Which is why... I don't think you should take it on. We can sell it for good money and-"

"No!" Charlie yelled, startling both of them. "We can't. I can make it work. I have to."

"Honey, you really don't have to."

"No, you don't understand. He.. had a plan for..."

"A plan? A plan for what?"

She'd said too much.