The fifth night started out as normally as it could have compared to the last four. Anabelle began her first night at Freddy Fazbear's, four days ago, as their temporary night guard until the famous animatronics were to be shipped out one by one. With the ten running amuck, there were pairs disappearing over the course of five days. One animatronic remained today, and her heart and nerves were seemingly less frazzled. To get through today seemed simple enough. Anabelle made her rounds at 11:20pm, flashlight and ring of keys at her belt to double check the doors that needed locking. She had not seen the last two animatronics, but the four toys, the four older ones and Balloon Boy have all gone. The stage looked so desolate as she passed by it with a loud sigh.
She passed by the party rooms, and checked each of the vents; she made sure the bathrooms were clear of customers and workers; she checked the kitchen and the parts and services room. The parts and services room reeked of oil and some sort of metallic smell. Why is it so filthy in here? It hasn't been cleaned since I started has it? Anabelle scrunched her nose up and locked the door quickly. Staring for too long in the dark forced images of things that were not there to linger in her mind. She had begun hallucinating not long after her first hour on her first day, but she had been trying very hard to remove them permanently. Everything that happened the rest of those nights had been purged from her memory as of yesterday evening, and she wanted to keep it like that.
She checked her watch and clipped her key ring back onto the belt loop of her slacks. One more room to check and then she could hide herself in the office with no problem. She meekly turned her head into the Prize corner's room and found, still, nothing new. That oversized gift box struck her curious at times, but she never really did look into it. On the subject or in actuality. She checked her watch one more time to see a minute had passed from 11:49. She had ten quick minutes to investigate and rush back to lock the front and back doors. Come to think of it, she should have locked those to start with. She bit her lip for a millisecond before jogging over to the box that stood a little above five inches of her head. Being 5'2" was not so bad, but when a box trumped your forehead, it meant something terrifying.
On her tip-toes, she threw open the box and from it sprung a doll with strings against its arms and the back of its neck. With a shriek, Anabelle fell back and scuffled along the floor to avoid the doll's very long arms. As quick as it sprung up, it fell against the box, a swift tune of the old music box whirred and died down all the same. The dull, broken mask of the puppet-like doll had her shivering. The fact that it scared her infuriated her more than the fact that she was on the grimy, unkempt floor. It was odd to see a metallic sheen under the fluff and cotton of its suit. Well, here was the last animatronic.
"F***ing… UGH!" She got up and wiped off the seat of her pants. "You a**...!" She pushed the ragged doll up and back and watched it slump over the opposite side of the box. Still swearing, she left the cruel room and went to lock up the other doors. With a minute to spare, she turned the cameras on in her office.
When she shifted through the eerily silent hallways and rooms, something caught her attention. The parts and services door was… open. She had locked that door, however, and it made her skin crawl indignantly to find it was indeed not. She pushed her hair behind her ear and took a steadying breath. Turning the light on down the hall left her a little more at ease. Though it seemed clear, the queer shadows held nothing but pessimism for her. She switched the camera to the west hall, and saw the parts and services door opening and closing within four degrees to eleven total. She eyed the camera, to see the door was still swinging. She checked the Prize corner to see if that puppet-doll did anything.
To her dismay, it did.
The box was tilted, on its front as if someone pushed out of it the hard way. There were strings and the puppet's cross left on the floor by the carousel. She hastily switched between cameras to try and get a glimpse of the puppet, but failed when the camera's static overcame the screen. Frozen on the parts and services camera, Anabelle's head was pounding as the words: "IT'S ME!" flashed across her screen. She blinked hard and forced the camera down, only to see the puppet lunge at her, a terrifying screech resounding with her own in the small office with no doors. The puppet snatched her up with whispy arms and began dragging her from the office by her foot. She kicked and shouted and even threw her flashlight at it. Her breathing was ragged and haggard. She tried catching the flashlight before it rolled too far, but another hand grabbed it. It was a muddy yellow, with wires and metal showing in odd places. The pungent smell of iron filled her nostrils and she managed a quick glance at who the hand belonged to before the puppet threw her into the parts and services room.
Golden Freddy. Wasn't he destroyed months ago!?
"Please, let me go! I didn't do anything to you! If anything, I should be dragging you around because your ugly mug scared me!" Anabelle's protests were cut dangerously short when Golden Freddy chuckled a distorted, raw laugh. She shuddered and realized how screwed she was. The puppet was never active considering the hinges on the box were jammed, and practically connected to his servos. Golden Freddy was the one behind the damn hallucinations. Now, they were here, in one room, with Anabelle.
She was hyperventilating when the puppet returned with this large suture needle. How he could have gotten that was beyond her; let alone how to hold it. Then again, this was the parts and services room – there had to be things in here for repairing and modifying an eight foot tall puppet.
"Guys, come on. I'd be sour too if someone was gonna get rid of me. But look at you!" She cringed when Golden Freddy sparked and the puppet got closer. "You're both hideous! Your friends were no better!" The puppet's voice box let out a low chime of what used to be laughter, Anabelle assumed. The puppet started threading the needle with thick black thread and Golden Freddy pulled Anabelle up by her ponytail.
"Agh! C-come on!" Anabelle was petty at pleading, and this was all too weird to understand. Her heart was beating so fast it was basically numb against her ribcage. Golden Freddy laughed, a little more clearly this time, and Anabelle screamed when he twisted her arm.
"Justen ough to disable HeR." The mangled words came from the puppet,
Anabelle's scared eyes wide and tearing.
"N-NO! Do-don't—AGHHH!" The bear twisted the other arm, to join the
other that lay limp against her torso. With a frantic, jittery kick, the arm of the offending animatronic came clean off. An angry whir of gears set Anabelle's fear charts off the scale. She scuffled up, forcing her aching arms to help her, before she tried running along the walls.
"JUST ENOUGH TO DIASBL—ERRrrrrrrr?" Golden Freddy whimpered as his arm socket sparked and he glitched. The puppet let out an barely audible sigh before his lanky limbs stretched quick distances to Anabelle, who was trying to squeeze between the Prize counter and the wall.
"Ah! N-no! Please!"
The puppet merely chuckled before grabbing her neck, and all but gently swung her around the counter and straight into the carousel. Anabelle's lower half whipped against the rusted Chica seat and pained her to move. Anabelle wished she could run away; she wanted to go home. She wanted to wake up.
Golden Freddy, with his other arm, pinned her down and cocked his head to the side.
"PRETTY HAUuurrr…" His voice box was worse than the puppets, as was his suit. Anabelle was sobbing, a shuddery wreck that succumbed to the bone-crushing pressure of the old, disgusting animatronic. The puppet then leaned down, the manic grin that had been present eternally on his mask, stretched past the rotten red apples of his cheeks and he laughed.
"It is pretty."
"N-no… pleaaasse… I…" Anabelle shifted her shoulder rather weakly, as if
it constituted lifting or raising her hand. "I want to—"
The hand that was on her chest raised itself, and smacked the palm of it
up, against her nose. Immediately, she fell limp; the last thing seen, heard, felt… was pain. The puppet smacked the bear away and audibly sneered. He did not want her face to be damaged, but the damned bear could not remember orders if they were as simple as standing. The puppet got to work with the beautiful carcass, a sick, demented tune coming from the recesses of his voice box.
"MY pretty dollie..."
"Manager, Elijah Emans, found employee and friend, Anabelle Adams, only 24, dead and mutilated in the establishment today. Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, known in the past for its awful reputation with crime, is finally being closed for good. No remodeling, no new animatronics. Elijah cannot afford the heat, nor the price in this day and age.
'I never thought… I mean… They were turned off. They were stripped of free-roaming and yet… I should have helped her. I should have doubled the shipment loads.' Elijah said to Officer Morris a few moments after the police arrived on scene. No one knows who had done this considering the pizzeria was completely empty. No animatronics were present; forget any other soul being there so late at night. The family of young Anabelle have been contacted, but none have come forward to shed light on Anabelle's personality.
'It is a shame to see someone so young be hurt so… grotesquely. Her eyes were sewn over with buttons for crying out loud. Forensics say her legs and arms were rendered immobile and then… you know.' Investigator Lewis, forensics co-op leader shared some details on how Anabelle was tortured. Though the culprit remains a mystery with no fingerprints or DNA of any kind yet to be found, this case will definitely go down in the books as 'the coldest case ever'."
R.I.p ANABElle deARrrr…~