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Mike simply couldn't get it out of his head. The memories of his little brother, Garrett, and that ill-fated family trip in Nebraska haunted him relentlessly. Despite his efforts to move on, to start afresh with his sister Abby, the thoughts still lingered like ghosts in the deep-ends of his mind. It was hard not to feel utterly powerless.
He'd taken a big decision, completely stopping to take his sleeping pills — which in turn only made him feel restless. He'd lay at night, staring at his now bare ceiling, the rolled up Nebraska poster now shoved in his closet. He didn't plug in his earphones into that old cassette player to sleep either. He was done. Done with that part of his life. Done with this dream theory that he'd been obsessing over for years. It had been all so futile.
Still, he couldn't find closure.
Seated at their cramped diner table, Mike had prepared spaghetti with meatballs at his sister's request. He wasn't a very good cook, his neighbor and sort-of friend Max had always been the better one. Some parts of the pastas were still hardened and quite chewy, but Abby didn't comment on that. Her radiant smile lit up the room with newfound happiness. A sharp contrast to the horror of their recent struggles, that was for the best. In the recent days she'd become more sociable, playing with other kids at school, even making friends — Mike couldn't be prouder of her.
"Do you think we could go visit them?" Abby's innocent voice broke through Mike's thoughts, her big eyes filled with a hopeful plea. "They must be lonely all alone there."
Mike almost wanted to decline, to protect his sister from the traumatizing events they'd gone through. She was too young to waste her youth reliving terrible events. She couldn't become like him. Yet, as he caught a glimpse into Abby's pleading eyes, he found himself unable to refuse. "Okay... Maybe one day. We’ll see." He relented with a sigh, toying with a forkful of pasta on his plate. He wasn't very hungry.
In reality, Mike wondered whether returning to that place would provide the closure he desperately sought and hopefully fix the messy state of his mind. Seeing William Afton's lifeless body, knowing with certainty that the man who had caused so much pain could harm no more children, nor could he send workers to their death who were just about ready to do anything to have a job. Plus, it would be good to check up on the place before deciding if it was a good idea to bring Abby there. He didn't want to expose her to any potential danger like he'd foolishly done before.
That night, with Abby sound asleep in her room, Mike quietly slipped out with the backdoor. He didn't want her to hear him leaving the house, and the car would make too much noise. Instead, he chose to ride his old almost rusty red bike, pedaling into the dark of the night.
As he arrived at the abandoned Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, memories flooded back, both exhilarating and terrifying. The familiarity of the surroundings made his heart ache, but he kept on going. Leaving his bike discarded on the ground before heading to the main entrance.
The front gate stood untouched, unlocked. Mike remembered that the place used to have locks, he must have forgotten to put them back. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the entrance way, it lit up in hues of yellow, supplied by dying light bulbs that must have been more than 20 years old by now. It took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the pizzeria, but as soon as they did, he noticed the large hole in the roof. It looked like something heavy had crashed, probably the broken neons that laid shattered into thousands of pieces and shards on the floor. Leaving wires dangling from the ceiling. Mike pulled out a flashlight from his jacket, using it to guide himself around. The rest of the place seemed fine. Tables carefully lined up, the arcade machines faintly emitting noises from their corner, animatronics hidden behind their colorful stage curtain.
Did they still have a conscience to them? Were they really doomed to haunt these suits for eternity? Surely the death of their killer had set them free, somehow.
Okay, just a quick peek. Hopefully, they wouldn't resent him anymore, they weren't under Afton's control, they would be kind, right? Mike's hand trembled as he reached out to press the stage button, the one that would pull the curtains away. With a faint whirring sound, the heavy red fabric parted, revealing Bonnie and his guitar, Freddy, and Chica with her cupcake in hand, all lined up on the stage with their eyes closed shut.
"H-Hello?" Mike stammered, feeling foolish for even standing here, addressing animatronics. It was still hard to wrap his head around the whole idea of ghosts possessing these suits. Who knew that was even possible? There was only silence in response. He tried again, louder now, hoping to catch their attention. "Anybody here? It’s me, Mike, Abby’s brother."
"They're free," a boy's voice broke through the silence, echoing through the room. Mike jumped, his heart pounding in his chest, as he swiftly turned around to face the source of the voice. Standing before him was that familiar blond boy from his dream, the one who had guided him before. "The other kids, they're thankful and offer their gratitude to Abby. But they're free now." The boy took a few steps towards him, his body moving almost robotically. "You've done a lot for us, Mike. Thank you." Though his features seemed so human. Lips curled upward, his eyes almost sparkling.
Mike's eyes widened in disbelief before he nodded, forcing a quick smile on his lips. "Thank you for helping my sister, things are going well for her now." He bit his lip before adding. "But why are you still here? Aren’t you supposed to be free like the rest of them?"
The strange boy shrugged, his voice filled with an air of mystery, he said, "I'm not done here." Mike blinked, trying to understand, to figure out what was going on. But in an instant, he was gone. Leaving Mike standing there, bewildered and alone.
Shaking off the encounter, Mike forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Exploring the place, right. Now that he knew the children weren’t here anymore, there wasn’t any point to bring Abby here, he'd have to come up with a small white lie. Probably even buy her ice cream to cheer her up. Now, he had to satisfy his curiosity on something, the yellow bunny suit. He continued to traverse the abandoned restaurant, moving from room to room, looking for it — him. The kitchen, the multiple party rooms, the arcade, everything seemed mostly intact. Yet no sight of any bunny suit. That was weird. It was probably somewhere and he’d misremembered, he was just getting paranoid.
There was one room left. The Safe Room. Mike's footsteps faltered as he approached the door, memories flooding back, threatening to overwhelm him with fear. It was an odd name for a place where he had almost lost his life — and where a few others hadn't been so lucky. Torture Room would have been much more suitable, quite on the nose though. With trembling hands, he pushed the door open hesitantly, unsure of what he would find.
A putrid stench assaulted his senses, so overpowering that he nearly gagged out his last meal. He quickly clicked on his flashlight, glancing around the dark. He went down the staircase, not missing the way each of his steps caused a cracking nose. Once down, he flashed his light around, the walls were covered in dried blood, an ominous reminder of the horrors that had transpired here. Broken endoskeletons and suit parts scattered on the floor. Several corpses shoved in a corner, one with his face totally mangled up. Mike squeezed his eyes shut, it was clear that he wasn't going to find much of anything in here.
His goal remained. Finding William Afton's body, or rather, the yellow rabbit animatronic suit to which he died inside. It was still nowhere to be found.
He heard a loud thud. Was it the kid's doing? Mike turned around, the safe room door slamming into the wall as a force pushed it open. He flinched, flashing his light towards the entrance up the stairs. His jaw dropped. This wasn't possible, yet it made so much sense.
William Afton stood before his eyes, still in his springlock suit. He must have survived somehow. Just like those kids, trapped in these suits with their incomprehensible robotic technology that left them alive. William's time wasn't over yet, and he was still burning with anger.
Mike tried to hide, grabbing a nearby crate and sheepishly pulling it over his head. He knew this wouldn't work, as William had clearly seen him flash his light on him. But he needed time, quick, a plan, and how to get out of there. With each heavy footstep and crank of metal he was brought closer to a panic attack. The taser hadn't worked, that was the only weapon he'd brought along, convinced this man was dead. The room had nothing else he could possibly use to defend himself, other than an old rusty crowbar under the staircase. There was nowhere else to hide. Mike's thoughts raced fast through his head, desperately searching for something, anything. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound reverberating in his ears like a frantic mantra. He could feel the weight of William Afton's presence closing in. The room seemed to shrink, suffocating Mike with its oppressive atmosphere.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the tears staining his cheeks. He felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness, like a small prey huddled in a corner by a merciless predator.
William's voice pierced the silence, dripping with derision and sickening glee. "Michael Schmidt, what a surprise. You didn't have enough on the first few nights? Needed to come back to Freddy's so bad?" A cold shiver crawled up Mike's spine as he listened to the man's taunting words. "Well, congratulations," William continued, "After I'm done with you, you'll be stuck here for good." His sentence ended as he took the final step. The stairs creaked one last time. He’d made his way down, all he had left to do was to find Mike. He stepped closer and Mike could see the outline of his body through a little hole in his cardboard crate. His body shivered, goosebumps crawling on his arms. What could he do now? He was helpless. He had to go, Abby, she needed him. He knew Afton wouldn't let him out alive if he at least didn't try to bargain for his life.
He had to try something.
His voice quiet, Mike spoke up. "Please, I didn't come here for anything, I was just trying to find closure and move on." The words hung in the air, a plea laced with desperation and sincerity. He prayed that maybe he'd be spared.
"Don't play dumb," William hissed, his hands rummaging through the crates, searching for his prey. "If you really want to move on, why don't you forget about this whole place and go live with my stupid daughter who seemed to like you sooo much.” Enough to betray him. Her own father over practically a stranger. “ No, you got curious, huh?" The crates clattered as he tossed them aside, his frustration mounting. "I'm still here. Still alive, and you're trespassing on my property. You're gonna die, Schmidt. I'm gonna show you what happens to people who disrespect me. I'm gonna rip your heart out, slowly and painfully, until there's nothing left inside. Maybe even stuff you into a spare suit." His laughter reverberated through the room, shaking Mike to the core.
Mike could barely breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep more tears at bay. It was hopeless, there was no escape. He was screwed and he couldn't even scream for help.
The cardboard box was pulled from over his head. "Found you," William's voice rang out, deep and intense, he was most definitely enjoying this. William reveled in the pitiful sight, his grin widening. "Such a dramatic cry baby, just like how your brother was." He laughed again, stepping back. "I wonder how many years ago that was, I've killed so many I don't really remember. It gets hard to keep up with all these dates, y’know?"
16 years. That's how long it'd been.
Mike's anguish reached its boiling point. The complete apathy, how could this man be saying things like this? Did he not know the weight of it? Just how much he'd suffered with the loss of his brother. How those other kids' families must have grieved painfully. Or perhaps, he knew all too well and enjoyed seeing the distress written all over his face. His tone harsh, Mike shouted. "Shut your fucking mouth!" Tears streamed down his face, yet he fought to suppress the sobs. "Don't you dare talk about Garrett like this! He was just an innocent kid who didn't deserve it!" 16 years yet he was still crying like it had happened yesterday. It still felt like it some days. He supposed that’s what happened when you kept on living the same event everyday through dreams.
William stared at him, his expression blank as ever. Mike could see it in his eyes too. It was clear as day, he didn't possess any ounce of remorse for his crimes. That was the most terrifying part about him. "Yes indeed, just an innocent little boy who hadn't been taught not to follow strangers... Ah, so naïve and careless. Kind of like you right now." The fact that he had absolutely no limits.
Mike felt a lump forming in his throat, his breaths becoming shallow and rapid. The weight of his grief threatened to crush him into a total breakdown, but he fought to maintain his composure. He couldn't fathom every emotion that was coursing through him all at once. They’d been repressed for years and this was certainly the worst place to let it all out. He clenched his trembling fists even tighter, his knuckles turning a shade of white. "Stop it," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper, the words choked with pain. "Please."
William cackled loudly, yanking Mike by the armpits, his metallic fingers digging harshly in his skin. His strength was unbelievable, lifting Mike's body with ease. In an instant, he was hoisting him up off his feet and slamming him against the cold, bloodstained brick wall. He wrapped one hand around his throat, the other maintaining him in place. Mike gasped for air, his own hands reaching to clutch at his neck, trying to free himself, his heart pounding in his chest as the world blurred around him. He kicked his legs, but he wasn't able to do much. William was bigger, stronger, his grip tighter. Mike's vision darkened at the edges, black spots dancing before his eyes. He was trapped, at the mercy of a sadistic murderer.
"Now then, listen here." William growled, his white eyelights flickering. "It's been so long since I've had a little fun with someone like you, Schmidt. Don't think I won't enjoy myself."
Just as the darkness threatened to claim him, Mike felt William's hands loosen their grip, letting go of him. Collapsing onto the floor, he coughed violently, his body convulsing with each ragged breath, while he wheezed for air. Blood stained his lips.
William crouched down beside him, a knife gleaming in his hands. Its blade tainted with the crimson evidence of his previous victim, his own daughter — Vanessa's blood. He tilted Mike's head up by his chin, raising the knife as a direct threat. He brought it so close, the cool steel of the side of the knife caressing his trembling skin. If he moved too much, he would make himself bleed on the sharp edge of the blade.
William leaned in close to Mike's ear, "It’s time to get started, huh?" He taunted, his voice dripping with vicious delight. "Oh, please talk to me. Your pitiful pleading voice is so sweet to hear. Would be a shame to let it go to waste." With a cruel smirk, he pressed the cold, sharp edge of the knife slightly harder against the side of Mike's neck, against his windpipe.
"Huh, I-"His mind was drawing blank, all he could take in was William who was way too close to him for his liking. Words weren't able to form anymore. He weakly attempted to push away William's hand, but the man's grip was unyielding, his strength overpowering. The blade continued to press agonizingly against his skin. "Y-...You..." He choked out, trying to hold back the urge to vomit. "Please… don't hurt me. I'll I'll let you..." Tears welled up in his eyes, knowing what he was signing himself for.
"I like the sound of that." A whisper brushed against his ear, sending chills up his spine. Mike didn't even take in the confusing realization. That William was still somehow breathing. The smell of William's rancid odor invaded his senses, making him gag. The world around him faded into a muffled haze as he became acutely aware of William's rough touch, slowly caressing his body like he desired, reminding him that he was nothing but his plaything. "Get up," William commanded. "Don't disobey, Mikey . I bet you know what happens to kids who don't listen."
He tried not to dwell on the nickname. It reminded him too much of how his father used to call him when he was much younger and didn’t hate being around him.
Mike stood up despite his better judgement. As if he even had a say. This man was repulsive. Mike wouldn't even entertain the thoughts of what he'd done to his poor brother. This disgusting man who had ruined countless families for his sick perverted fantasies. Rage surged through his veins, a rage he had rarely experienced before. How had he allowed himself to fall victim to the same man who'd taken Garrett from him? He wondered how his parents would feel. How would dad feel about this?
William pulled Mike's arm, yanking him harshly as he pushed him against an empty table in the back of the room. A singular light bulb above them. His hand almost instantly wrapping around Mike's throat again, reminding him that he was the one in control, like Mike would even forget. He glared at the trembling young man, feeling immense pleasure at the sight of terror written all over Mike's face.
"You have a lot of nerve, Schmidt." Mike pressed his eyes shut. Just let this be over soon. Please, let it end. Let me go home. But William wasn't finished tormenting him. "You're awfully hard, huh?" William's mocking words cut through the tension, his hand groping Mike's hard-on through his clothes. The revelation hit Mike like a ton of bricks, his eyes flying open in disbelief. Sweat poured from every pore on his forehead as his eyes darted down.
He was hard? How could his body betray him in this way? He looked back up at William's face, horrified. "Well, that's certainly a first for me." The man laughed. Yes, because your other victims weren’t even old enough, Mike wanted to reply.
William began to undress him, his hands rough and careless, yanking and twisting Mike's body with little regard for his comfort. Layers of clothing were forcefully removed, discarded sloppily onto the concrete, dusty floor. Mike's messy medical bandages remained untouched, they covered most of his body. Especially his left forearm, brown spots of dried blood showing through. Mike shuddered as he felt the man's fingers trail across his skin, it made him want to throw up. Once everything was off, he threw the shirt to the ground behind him and continued to push Mike against the table. Pinning him down.
William ran his hands roughly along Mike's stomach, tracing every inch of his bruised and torn torso. "So pretty," William muttered, his eyes raking over Mike's exposed form with a sickening hunger. "My favorite thing to see." Mike knew that he wasn't lusting over his body. No, he was lusting over his forced compliance. That was so degrading.
"Will you remove your trunks for me?" He paused, "or will you play hard to get until I force myself into you, mmh?" Mike swallowed thickly, he hated the way his body reacted to hearing that voice.
"I'll do it." Mike slid his trunks down his hips, goosebumps running down his thighs. Fuck this place was cold. Mike stood naked and vulnerable. William's eager gaze swept over his exposed body, enjoying the sight of his prey stripped of all defenses. As expected, his eyes wandered greedily downwards, to his bulging member.
William smirked at Mike's obvious display of submission as he ripped off the remainder of his boxers, the thin shreds of fabric falling on the ground. He had his prey exactly where he wanted, naked, terrified and oh so vulnerable. That was his favorite part. Ripping away the reminder of their innocence, though he doubted Mike was a virgin. Shame. "How sweet." He cooed, watching Mike squirm beneath him. "Now how about you lie back?" Mike couldn't hold his sobs anymore. "Yes you can, just for me." Just for daddy.
The animatronic suit loomed over him, casting an eerie shadow in the dimly lit room. The bunny ears atop William's head seemed to elongate his broad figure, making him even more imposing. Mike felt himself shrink in comparison. His sense of confidence crushed beneath the weight of this twisted power dynamic. He was beyond hopeless.
"Good boy." William seized Mike by the hips, his grip bruising, as he forcefully spread them apart. With quick and practiced movements William positioned his fingers against his hole, slowly sliding them in. Mike doubted that he was doing it out of any kind of concern. He hated himself for being a sobbing mess, giving in so willingly.
Next to him on the table, glinting in the weak light, sat the discarded knife. It was a tempting option. He could snatch it up and stab his assailant, watch as the pain overtook him and what little of his blood he had left, spilled all over them. Mike's mind raced with thoughts of taking back control. Deep down he knew he wouldn't be able to. He laid there, paralyzed in fear.
He watched as his fingers pushed deeper, he could feel them moving inside him, twisting and wiggling painfully. So raw and harsh. He bit down on his trembling lip, desperate to suppress the painful cries that threatened to escape, what little left he had of his dignity. This wasn't right, this was so wrong. He shouldn't be feeling things like this, and he felt all the more distraught over that. His mind screamed for him to fight back, to reclaim his autonomy, but his body was betraying him, finding pleasure in it.
He completely tensed up as William withdrew his fingers. Instead choosing to drag them along Mike’s leaking cock, teasing it. Mike gasped, arching his back, closing his eyes tightly. What was happening to him? Why did his brain seem to have gone mute as William's fingertips touched his cock, stroking it gently. He moaned , turning his head away, refusing to let him see what he was doing to him. As if that made it any better.
"Is this too much?" William asked, his hand now fully wrapped around Mike's rigid shaft. His other hand moved to caress Mike's cheek, pushing his dark curls behind his ears. Mike whimpered, his eyes fluttering open. "That's it." William purred, squeezing him firmly. "Be a good boy, don't try and fight it."
As the pressure on his cock increased, he gasped. The rhythm of William's hand squeezing and stroking sending tremors of pleasure coursing through his body. Each squeeze elicited a whimper, each stroke a moan. His entire being quivered in anticipation, aching for release.
But then, abruptly, William removed his hand. Mike opened his eyes, gazing directly into the one's of his attacker. William's smug grin, no doubt he was relishing this. " Wh-at? " A dark chuckle escaped from William's lips, his gravelly voice slightly glitching , "You wanted more? Wanted me to make you cum, didn't you?" Mike averted his eyes, guilty. William leaned forward and groaned in Mike's ear, "But no, my dear, that isn't going to happen now. I think it's time I have my little fun."
William was so close. Mike was caged. He screamed as he felt the hardness of William's cock pressing against his exposed and vulnerable entrance. "No no no please I can't- you you can't do this-" A surge of panic shot through him, his heart pounding in his chest, but his body, that damn traitor, reacted with an illicit wave of desire. William's face hovered right in front of his, staring directly into his eyes, enjoying the way they were dilated with passion, full of fear and want .
"Shhh" He heard, his hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white, his nails digging into the rough surface, attempting to steady himself. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It burned, he clenched and writhed and that somehow made it feel even worse. He didn't want this, didn't want this disgusting monster of a man to take him apart this way. Didn't want to hear all the horrible things he said, disguised as sweet talk. Didn't want to acknowledge that his own dick was hard as hell.
William kept soothing him, whispering that he was taking it so well, that he was a good boy. Mike just let him have his way as tears flowed down his cheeks. Every movement was torturous. As his thrusts grew deeper and more forceful, Mike's body kept responding differently. He let out a sharp inhale. He tried to imagine he was elsewhere, tried to disconnect himself, but after spending years being so focused on that damn trip in Nebraska, it's all he could picture in his mind too.
Then it became all so much worse. William started to hit at his prostate, and suddenly he was letting gasps and low moans, his face burning red as he was clearly surprised by that. "Oh! Shit!" He shouted out, so shamelessly. He didn't care, not anymore. In a way, this was how he was gaining back control. He threw his head back, whining loudly. Mike was completely losing it. He was having the worst sex of his life, yet also enjoying every second of it.
William, fueled by his sadistic desires, hauled Mike's head forth, his eyes filled with a carnivorous hunger, dripping with the desire to watch his blissed out expression. Usually, he much preferred the look of fear on his victim's faces. But Mike looked so beautiful like this, watching him fight his own thoughts and morality as he was being fucked by his little brother's killer . He loved the way Mike's face pained ever so slightly when he slammed himself in. Fuck . He could cum just from a face like that. He wanted to taste that sweet release soon too.
William started to fondle Mike's pathetic cock again, caressing his length and slowly rubbing his hand up and down. He was never one to give handjobs, but he was growing impatient, he needed to see this boy cry out in overstimulation, cry as the realization that the best orgasm of his life would be given by someone as vile as him. He would have loved to see him go about and struggle with his daily life, probably reliving the memory every day. No, instead he would enjoy seeing him succumb to pure ecstasy and hear his pleas for him to fuck him even more.
Mike finally lost it. He surrendered himself completely, letting go of the table and snaking his arms around William clutching onto him. Pulling him closer, deeper . "Oh God...oh god daddy please..." Tears poured from his eyes, this time from elation. The word had slipped out of his mouth so easily. He was giving in, unable to control himself any longer. "Please, please don't stop..." Mike cried out, utterly desperate for more. His resistance collapsing."Oh! Yes daddy..." William smiled widely, continuing to stroke Mike, who was urgently clinging onto him.
"Fuck you're taking me s-o well," he'd praise with a grunt, his eyelights flickering overwhelmed by his bodily stimuli. For a moment he had wondered if he would even be able to cum in this new body. He was feeling everything, so it seemed that he would. William's cock twitched, filling him with a wave of pleasure. The sensation creeped through his entire being, and he couldn't help but revel in the intoxicating bliss that consumed him. "Come on Mike, tak-e it..." William encouraged, his voice hoarse from lust, his breath shaky.
"Yes!" Mike screamed out, feeling his own dick sputtering out spurs of cum, covering his bare chest. William followed suit, the warm liquid filling him up. He continued to rub an overstimulated Mike as they came down from the high, both men panting for air, still connected.
Finally, William pulled out of him, watching his milky white cum leak out of Mike's puckered hole. It was so fucking satisfying. Mike just laying there, fucked out of his mind, probably wouldn't even protest if William stabbed him with the same knife he gutted his own daughter with. Probably would come all over himself if he choked him to death. Mike was just as pathetic as every one of them.
Mike seemed to be gaining back his senses, the aftermath of his orgasm slowly fading away. A disgusting smell filled his nose and he was grounded in reality again. William Afton. Right in front of him too. He'd just now noticed the way his yellow bunny suit was slowly fading and turning with hues of reds and green in certain areas. Most likely caused by blood and mold. Mike was horrified, horrified at what had just happened. He should've stopped him before it got to that point, why had he been so powerless.
The man he'd vowed himself to somehow protect his brother from.
How disgusting that he'd even moaned out for him, calling him 'daddy' as if he was anyone worthy of that name. Maybe he had his own paternal issues and coped terribly with his father's suicide, but even for his standards, this was beyond fucked up. He looked William dead into his greyish eyelights, he couldn't speak, he felt weak all over once again. Abby, he had to get back home to her. He tried standing up, but William quickly stopped him.
"Where do you think you're going?" He rasped, somehow still finding the energy within himself to be all aggressive.
"I need to get home, I've been here too long..." I want to get away and never see you again.
"No, no, darling." William smiled, grabbing him by the chin and forcing his gaze onto him. "That won't be happening any time soon." Mike tried shaking his head as fast as possible, squirming around, trying to free himself. After all of this, he couldn’t just die here.
For a moment, William felt pity. "Fine." he slowly pulled away, keeping Mike at hand’s reach. "I'll let you go at one condition. If you break it, trust me, I can make your life worse than this you fucking prick."
Mike raised his eyebrows. His eyes glistening, clutching onto what William had just offered. "What is it?" He would agree to pretty much anything.
"Check up on Vanessa. Tell me how she’s doing, whatever’s up with her. You come by, next Friday and you tell me how everything is going, and what she's doing. Do you understand?" Mike nodded eagerly, sighing out in relief, choosing to completely ignore the fact he’d have to come back. "Good."
"And um, you, you just trust me?"
William shook his head and chuckled. "Not in the slightest. You'll keep your promise because if you don't, you're gonna feel exactly how I do right now." Implying that he would use one of those barbaric springlock suits on him. "Trust me. You'll come back for more whether you like it or not."
Mike swallowed hard at his last comment, nodding his head slowly. "Okay. I can do that. I can do that."
"Now go." William released him, his grip loosening reluctantly as Mike scrambled to gather his torn clothes. His underwear was in shreds, but Mike didn't dwell on it, his focus solely on escape. He hastily slipped on his jeans, his trembling fingers fumbling with the zipper. He tied his shoes in record time too.
He gave him a final glance before bolting for the door, his steps making the treads crackle under his feet. As he stepped outside the room he ran as fast as he could, desperate to put as much space between himself and his abuser as possible. He only ended his race once he was outside. Safe . He yanked his bike off the ground and took off.
As soon as he'd biked far away enough, he began crying uncontrollably, clutching his hands on the steering handle. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with sweat and exhaustion. He had no one else to blame but himself. He should have been more careful, he should have fought harder. This was not how things were supposed to be. His life was supposed to go back to the way it used to be before William, before his brother died. Things were supposed to get better, Abby and Vanessa seemed okay, he could at least comfort himself with that.
Still, there was no one he could confide in, no one he could trust. Abby was too young, too innocent to hear about this, she'd already been through so much it would be so unfair for him to taint her innocence. Vanessa was an acquaintance, a friend would be stretching it, they barely knew each other. He also figured she didn't need to know that her father was far more sick than they originally believed. The nature of his crimes.
Then there were the authorities. They would laugh at his face, thinking he's a complete lunatic who is seeking for some sort of attention or going through a nonsensical mental breakdown. Especially with his previous criminal record of assaulting random men who he thought were kidnappers.
The truth was his alone to bear, unbearably so. He felt so dirty, so violated and utterly disgusting. He was alive, breathing, safe, but it would never be the same. The fear would always remain, the anger too. On top of that, he knew his brother's killer was still alive, somehow.
Mike wanted to piece together the mystery, uncover why, how, he owed it to his little brother whom he failed to protect. If that meant going back to Freddy's, that's what he was going to do. He was trapped, but strangely, he found an ounce of power in the fact that: there was nothing left to lose.
On his next visit, he would try to dream again. See if the souls were truly gone, all but one. That kid. He knew a lot more than the others, he seemed much more self-aware. He might even know something.
Mike sneaked back home, dropping his bike at the side of his house. With silent footsteps, he tiptoed to the back door, careful not to make a sound that might disturb Abby's sleep. He peeked through her slightly open door, his heart swelled at the sight of his sister bundled up in bed with her stuffies. At least she was safe. She deserved it. And you didn’t?
He closed the door, heading towards his own room. He was greeted with messy bed sheets and various shirts thrown haphazardly across the floor. To which he promptly stuffed them in his laundry basket, not really caring to check what was clean anymore. That was yet another thing he needed to fix. Things just kept piling up, paperwork regarding his Aunt's sudden passing, the goddamn drawer that always jammed, his semi-broken arm that he absolutely could not afford a doctor to treat. It was impossible to keep up with all of it. It was like the damn world was conspiring against him sometimes.
Mike changed himself, he needed a shower to get rid of that filth , but it was far too late into the night. Instead, he finally got another pair of boxers and a mostly clean tee-shirt before laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He reached over to his bedside table, fumbling through the drawer for his pill bottle. Once he found it, he popped one in his mouth. He also grabbed his headset. Nature sounds. He wasn't trying to live the dream necessarily, he'd just gotten so used to sleep with it. Quickly, sleep took over him.
And there he was again. Sitting at the wooden camping table, his father grilling things on the barbecue, his brother running around with a toy plane, his mom standing next to him with a smile. The soft glow of the sun, the gentle breeze of fall, this was supposed to be nothing short of a perfect day. In front of him sat a half-eaten burger, its greasy patty glistening. Mike despised that burger, not because of its taste or texture, but because of the memories it held. He knew how the dream went, his mother spilled some soda and excused herself to grab a towel. Her careless mistake leading to a momentary distraction.
Even before she uttered the words for Mike to look after his brother while she'd be gone, his eyes were fixated on him, Garrett. In a blink, he was gone. Mike stood up hastily. Panic rushing over him. His knees knocking against the harsh table. He stepped aside and began to run for the car, the one kidnapping his brother. This time, he didn't see anything scary children from Freddy's. It must have meant that they were free, gone. In his burst of anxiety, he barely registered that information.
But something happened, something that had never happened in any of his previous dreams. The car came to a halt. It stopped abruptly, the sharp sound of its break shrieking. Mike yanked one of the back doors, swinging it open with full force. He snuck in, scared that he would be left behind otherwise. And there, for the first time ever, Mike found himself face to face with William Afton himself. His sick desperation etched upon his features. What could only be described as a horrible, evil, cold smirk plastered across his face. Mike could see him with a stuffed toy — a Freddy plush doll — sitting on the passenger seat of his car, most probably what he'd used to bribe his brother with. Mike shuddered. He'd reached the goal he'd set himself for years, so it was true. He had seen him before, it hid deep in the back of his mind all this time. Yet it didn't make any sense, why now?
His own memories began to mix in. Watching William die at Freddy's, his springlock suit failing as he trembled to his demise. Believing it to be the end of it all just for the man to somehow survive. The Safe Room, the way William had forced himself onto him, as if he was reminiscing his twisted crimes. The reverberation of his haunting voice calling him a "good boy" echoed in his ears, while his own voice had pleaded for more. In the midst of his panic, Mike could see from the corner of his eyes Garrett just staring at him, confused, his black doe eyes looking up at his brother. Silently pleading for him to help, not understanding why his big brother was seemingly petrified on the spot.
He felt nauseous. He couldn't breathe properly. He tried to calm himself down, but every nerve was alight. Mike could only whisper, "I'm so sorry Garrett, I can't ever save you."
6 AM.
Bip bip bip.