Hey there ! It's me again and I'm back with a FNAF OS ! Hope you'll like it ~
Disclaimer : Scoth Cawthon owns Five Nights at Freddy's and its characters, I only own Gareth's name (if we can say so).
Bonnie couldn't move. His body was stuck on the ground, head hurting, heart racing. He was struggling to keep his balance and stay awake but he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the pain. Somewhere inside of him was this feeling of rescission, this impression of dying. He knew he'd never wake up again. But more than the fact that he wouldn't be able to see the world ever again, there was the case of his friends. Where were they? Could they flee? Were they free? Bonnie didn't know.
He knew he should've cared about his own life before thinking about his mates but he wasn't one of those selfish brats he used to despise. He cared about them, as he always used to say. Instead of thinking about his own death, he focused on them. He thought for a second that Chica had fled, that she had made it. He thought she'd be alive. But he couldn't be sure and that was making him extremely instable. The last thing he had seen from her was her long blond hair floating on the wind as she was running away.
And he was stuck on the ground, unable to make a move. He thought about calling for help, but he didn't want to be useless for them, or even to cause their death. So, he decided to stay silent. His headache increased as he focused on his breathing, trying hard not to be heard. Because he knew he was still here. One sound, one bad move, and he'd die alone. Most of the fact that he could die at any moment, was the one of loneliness. How was a child like him, talkative and hyperactive, supposed to stay still and silent? How he wished he could runaway... but his legs refused to move.
The silver of the blade shined under the weak glimmering that came from the restaurant, heading to his eyes to burn them. He put his blooded finger to cover them, trying to avoid the insanity. His right leg was burning, was bleeding, opened on the middle to show his tibia. The red was everywhere on him, adding more fear in his chest. How he hated the red. How he hated the substance that covered his favorite jacket and how he hated the pain. It was giving him the will to tear himself apart, to just retire the element that was causing him so much suffering. He was sure that, if he could have, he'd just cut his members and scream for someone to come and help him.
He pinched his arm to escape such dark thoughts, trying to think about a way to join the road. From there, maybe he could ask for help. Maybe if he could make it until there, he could just flee this place. His fingers plunged on the earth beneath him and he started to push on it, trying to pull his body to move. His right leg scratched the ground, the blade sinking a little more on his flesh. He let out a moan but nothing more. He refused to scream, refused to cry. He wasn't a baby. He was eleven, after all.
The knife left his body when he pulled harder, causing a tear to come in the corner of his eyes, as he tried to ignore it. The marks it had left all over his body when he stabbed him were burning but he didn't really care. Focusing on the road. Silently calling for an escape. His head ached more, so he decided to take a stop. He let his body fall completely on the ground, his left cheek hitting the stone harder than he'd expect. And then, turning his gaze, he saw the restaurant's panel. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. "The place of joy", now "the place of horrors". It seemed to him that the animal robots on the sign were mocking him, that they were laughing at his incapacities. The pizzeria had never been so scaring before.
He felt his own emotions become a huge disaster. The pain, the suffering, yet the sadness and the injustice. Why him, why them? What could he do to deserve such a fate? What had he done to end so injured? So lonely? Why couldn't he have a cool life with the happy ending everyone always wanted? His fingers ditched more on the earth and he pulled again, harder and harder, as if he had claws. It scratched the ground so hard that he bleed more and more, tears running down his cheeks. He'd been weak. He'd been useless. He couldn't protect them. Useless damn baby, he thought. And he swore between his teeth as he pulled and pulled to join the road.
When he finally managed to do it, he realized that he was wrong about himself. That he was useful. Because he didn't really let them, because he was thinking about them instead of him. How pathetic he was, to overprotect his band instead of fighting for his life. So, he started to hate them. After all, she fled, isn't it? Chica didn't search for him. She didn't try to reach her friend to help him. No. She used Bonnie to win her freedom.
The hatred embraced his heart, lost his mind. He had to avenge his life himself. To fight only for him. No more caring about others, no more trying to protect the one that left him. He let a growl leave his throat, menacingly approaching the floor lamp. The yellowness of the light was awful, so close to the joy he had felt when he came. He should've stayed home as his friends said. He pouted when they said they were afraid of the animatronics, now he understood why.
And he realized now that the sad-looking face they had was because they knew. Because, as he thought, they had a conscience. They knew something would happen, yet they couldn't act. He should've known. When the purple one had stopped the dance to look at him in the eyes, the boy felt him watch and embrace his soul. When the rabbit had caught this sad look, the technician instantly came to see what was going on. But then he danced again, and the impression of feeling left his eyes. It had scared the boy so hard that he had spoked to his friends, but they just laughed at him.
Because they saw him as a clown and a dreamer, him the little boy who imagined things. As he was telling stories and saying he loved the animatronics, they thought he was just stuck in his imagination...again. Bonnie came out of his thoughts when he reached the road, when he made it to his objective. Now, he had to get up. He forced on his weak arm, ignoring the liquid that was covering his usually pale skin. He pulled his chest up, then forced his right leg to come to support his body and lift him up. He then got his left one closer. Too quickly, too painful. He let another moan of pain and almost cried while swearing.
In the distance, the night's fog was drawing a picture of something. He saw a figure standing still, watching him as he approached. His heartbeat increased as he thought about his assaulter, but it settled a little when the thing disappeared. Maybe was it his own minds playing tricks to himself, quickening his heartbeat to make him feel weak and powerless. The streetlight he was landing in was twitching, just as before a thunderstorm. It flickered sometimes and then settled back to display a purple thing standing behind him.
He turned quickly, afraid of what he could've seen. Nothing was there, but he could still see the purple shadow at his feet. Then, he heard a moan. Something mechanical that sounded like an old robot trying to communicate, glitched and hatched at some points. When he looked back in front of him, he saw the thing. He instinctively came across it and extended his bloody hand to brush it quickly.
The thing reacted, and he saw its kind of head tilt to the right as it was studying him. Bonnie put his fingers on its chest, feeling the matted fur. He jerked back as if he had been burned, backing off a little to judge it. Then, he recognized him.
He didn't know his name, so he gave him his. Bonnie. Because he thought it was perfectly fitting for a bunny, detailing his body. His head was round, his eyes a bright pink as they were shining through the night. Behind them, a ton of cables and technical things he didn't know, covered by the black in which they were surrounded. His nose was black, curved. It seemed soft, and the boy petted it. The rabbit approached a little, putting his hand on his companion's shoulders.
The boy brushed the fur of his ears, detailing the purple that colored all his body. On his chest, a button and a bow tie. His members were thick, big enough to carry the little child without any problem. Bonnie smiled, then laughed. The rabbit reacted by releasing a kind of low mechanical growl as if he was purring. He then laughed, still glitched, and embraced the kid.
Bonnie's surrounding became so bright he must close his eyes, protecting them from the burning light. He then felt a lot better and re-opened them, turning his gaze on his hands. They were huge, purple colored, and strong. He walked, heading to the restaurant, his pace calm but decided. He knew what he had to do: he should find the others and, with their help, his killer. Then, he would make his life a leaving hell before shutting his life.
When he opened the door and stepped inside, he saw his crew. They were all here, watching his entrance as if he was late. A bear approached, and he knew he was Freddy. Then, detailing the golden one, the chicken and the fox, he managed to find Gareth, Chica and Foxy. And now that he had a goal, he was determined to fulfil it.