Nails scratched across the hardwood surface, little splinters coming off and sinking into the skin. William's eye twitched as dark shadows loomed across his vision, seemingly never blinking. Explosions rippled through his ears, and his jaw clenched ever tighter; teeth grinding.
Breath coming out in huffs, he stood up running a hand through his hair. Across his body lay scars over scars, some intertwining and creating a patch of discoloured skin. Wobbling, he made it over to the wall and laid his head on it, resting slightly. "Fucking animatronics!" He screamed out as he punched the wall, plaster caving under his fist's motion.
William sunk to his knees, cradling his hand in his lap. "Fuck…" Hissing slightly, he inspected the joint. Blood and plaster coated it, some embodied within the cuts. Fingers were disjointed and lopsided, hanging at unnatural angles.
"I keep seeing them." He closed his eyes tight, several pictures flashing across his mind; a young girl's screams being cut off suddenly as a metallic covering came over her, a young boy who had his head crushed; rivets of blood dripping down his face as his eyes stayed wide and unseeing. Each of them had only been young. Young…and children he knew.
His family seemed to have the worst luck it seemed.
Today had been intense, having to reboot the electrical system so that those monsters didn't go where they weren't supposed to. They had almost caught him as well.
'It's not like the boss would have cared though,' William thought 'Not if he still had those monstrosities.' His eyes opened, as his brows tightened, and drew closer together in anger.
A screech filled his ears and jumped, his eyes wide and his body pressed up against the wall, as his chest heaved. Adrenaline coursed through him as his took a chance and grabbed his gun. Hands shaking, he loaded it.
"Come out you fuckers!" He shouted, turning off the safety. "I'm not letting you scoop me!" His breath was running ragged, chest heaving and vision blurring.
A spurt of motion from his right, and the gun was fired; the bang ringing in William's ears as he stumbled disoriented. Holes stood out against the white walls, and he stood there in disbelief.
Sucking in a breath, he put the gun down. "What the fuck has this done to me?" His voice came out cracked. He shook his head "I think I need to go get cleaned up before my program's on."
Stepping inside the bathroom, he turned the shower on; icy water coming out of the taps. As he stood in the shower, he rubbed his face, splashing the water over him. Thoughts and sounds crashed through his mind, memories it seemed. Memories of work, of deaths, and of beings which haunted his worst nightmares.
It was almost laughable how much he thought about them, how close he came to death every day. A giggle escaped him, as he pondered more on this.
His hands clenched, gathering up parts of his hair as he began to laugh. His laugh was cold and empty as it echoed, rebounding back at him. It soon became a full-blown cackle, his stomach aching and lungs burning.
Death was such a hilarious topic. Such a fickle thing which people worried about. Young children don't worry about it though, only worrying about things only relating to them. What a selfish bunch.
Still laughing, he looked up into the mirror. Blood shot and purple rimmed eyes stared back at him. His hair was pulled back into braids, parts pulled out and hanging out lopsided. Bruises coated his skin, almost invisible unless you looked closely. His hand looked even worse under the lighting, the cuts almost illuminated and the blood glowing.
He was disgusting. 'Worthless,' he had heard more than once. He felt heavier as these thoughts intruded his mind, an emptiness filling him.
He grabbed his razor and raised it to his face, scraping off a bit of skin; blood seeping through almost immediately. Stings of pain filled his mind. The more he did it, the more punishment he gave himself, the better he could feel. Further cuts soon littered his face, blood dripping down into the drain. He stood there for a moment watching it, still feeing the nagging pains pulling at the back if his mind. He had needed this.
Shaking his head, William drew up to his full height, his loose strands of hair brushing the ceiling. When he looked in the mirror, he grimaced. He looked even worse now. 'More insane,' his brain helpfully supplied.
'William Afton,' he could hear his boss saying, 'I hope you don't come to my company and work with my logo emblazoned across your shoulder in this condition.' He grinned, and his crooked teeth smiled back at him.
'What a time to be alive,' he thought, 'facing prejudice at my place of employment.' He laughed as he climbed out of the showers. Drying himself, he walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bowl, and his favourite box of popcorn.
After a second thought, the cupboard was opened, and a box of band aids and bandages were pulled out. The wounds took a while to tend to, his popcorn finishing long before he had finished. Band aids were applied, the cartoon smiley faces staring at him, and he removed the plaster from his skin, some imbedded in. Tying the bandage off on his fist, he grabbed the bag, pouring it into the bowl.
Throwing some in his mouth, he smiled; the perfect combination of salt and butter. The room he sat in was dark, some parts brighter from the light off the television but even those were only just allowed items to be seen.
One of those items included a photograph of a seemingly normal family. The photo was half shadowed in darkness, only very vague outlines were able to be seen, he paused with a piece of popcorn at his mouth.
The intro to The Young and the Restless began to play, his head snapping towards the noise. With one quick glance back at the photo, he settled down.