The Forgotten four

Prologue

   "God- DAMN IT!" Henry throws the wrench in his hand, stepping away from the animatronic in front of him. Huffing he holds his head in his hands in an attempt to calm himself down. He was always a calm and level-headed man, but ever since his daughter Charlie died he's been having more and more problems with controlling his emotions. He picks up the blueprints sitting on his desk next to the animatronic. Henry sighs as he strains himself trying to figure out what in the world William was thinking while making the endoskeletons. It was all so complicated yet simple enough that Mr.Emily could figure out where everything goes, yet he can't figure out how to put them together. It's like a puzzle made out of the last pieces that were lost.

     Tying his hair up he lets out another sigh, deciding he's going to finish this one before he goes to bed. He walks over to where he thinks that the wrench flew to when he spots a red-tinted purple book. Picking it up he reads the front. "A Guide to Building Animatronic Endoskeletons...?" He hums in satisfaction. He spots the wrench that was somehow under the book and grabs it as well. Henry stands up and walks back to the unfinished endoskeleton and opens the book.

     He groans and rubs his head, feeling a headache coming. He curses under his breath, "Why did he make the designs so complicated?!". Sighing, he sets the book aside, giving up on trying to understand the book. "Maybe I should just stick to the old endoskeletons." He says to himself, staring into the empty eyes of the sad excuse for an endoskeleton. Sighing once again, he decides to sleep on the decision. He doesn't want to scrap the progress he's made, but he feels as if it would be easier to make the old ones since he did design them himself.

     Henry puts his tools away, cleans everything up, and heads up the stairs. Grunting when he gets to the top, he looks down back at the endoskeleton. His breath catches in his throat. The endoskeleton was... Looking at him? Wasn't it powered off? He didn't even give it a power source in the first place. So why did it move? He stares for another minute or two before shrugging it off, "I probably forgot that I moved its head or something, it's nothing." Yet, he didn't feel like it was nothing. Something was off about it. He just didn't know what.

     He finally closes the basement door, locking the door behind him. Sighing he goes and grabs his nightclothes, and heads to the shower to get all the oil and grime off of him. Stepping into the bathroom he notices his disheveled appearance. His eyes are sunken in, clear eye bags under his eyes. His hair was surprisingly greasy for having kept it out of the way of the oil and muck that came with building the animatronics. He poked at his face, noticing his cheeks hollowing out. As he poked at his face, he noticed the bones in his hands and how thin his hands were. When did he let himself go?

     Maybe it was when Charlie died. Maybe it was when he decided to start this cursed franchise with his best friend all those years ago. He'll never know, cause he only just noticed tonight. I guess when certain things change so slowly you don't notice it until it's drastically changed. Other things don't change slowly, instead they hit you hard, like a bus speeding down the highway, headed straight for you, and sealing your fate. That's what Charlie's death felt like to Henry. A bus hitting him and sending him into a spiral downward, a never-ending spiral. He didn't know he was crying until his tears hit his hand. He let go of the counter, his hands red from gripping too hard. He backs up, and sighs, getting undressed and stepping into the shower. He hums as the warm water hits his back, easing the tension in his shoulders. Humming the old tune he used to sing at the Diner, he finishes washing up, and steps out of the shower, turning it off.

      He makes his way to his room, stopping halfway there to look at a picture of Charlie on a swing set, her mother behind her, and her brother beside her in the baby swing. He grabs his chest, feeling as though it's hard to breathe. He starts to hyperventilate and he drops to the ground, clutching his chest and head. He tries to call out for help, but he can't talk. It's like he's trapped in his head as memories of his daughter flash through his mind.

     After what felt like hours, he's finally able to stand up. Breathing hard he continues his way to his room, stumbling now and then. Henry makes it to his room, sighing as he gets dressed and ready for bed. He turns off his light and crawls under his blankets, closing his eyes, and drifting off to sleep.