The man kept the sharp silver blade to the girl's neck. Her breathing pattern was ragged, uncontrolled. Fear gripped her soul as she stared into those heartless amethyst orbs. The room was lit dimly, the only source of illumination a wax candle that was melting slowly into a porcelain puddle.
Her eyes were fixed on the small, flickering flame in the corner of the room, but she was clearly terrified of the murderer before her. His perfect teeth were gritted, his expression merciless. She couldn't help the single salty tear that dripped down her cheek and sunk into her onyx locks, braided in an elaborate crown on her head. Her worry was evident by the dread in her striking amber irises. And yet the cruel killer before her acknowledged none of this.
"Who are you, and what do you want from me?" she demanded weakly. The man laughed, a humorless sound that sent shivers up her spine. And not in the good way. He pressed the knife further into her throat, drawing a thin line of blood. "I go by William Afton, or Dave Miller, the co-creator of Fazbear Entertainment. Who I worked with is none of your concern. As to what I want… well, it's quite obvious, isn't it? You're a clever girl. You can figure it out quite easily." He sneered at her, unusually sallow cheeks distorting. She made an unsuccessful effort to blink away the liquid streaming down her face. Her silver shirt was black from wetness, her azure scarf indigo. It wasn't easy to contain her emotions considering the circumstances; was it every day a villain jumps on you, only to announce that he's going to slay you for a sick experiment? I think not, unless you're immortal and you live with a psycho. "I know just what I'm going to do with you," William said softly, insanity reflected in his chilling stare, "I'll cut your neck and stuff you in the suit. My little predator, forced to do my bidding. What do you think of that, my dear?" He smiled madly at her frightened and confused expression before nodding, almost beckoningly, at the shadow behind her. She whipped around instinctively. A pair of merlot optics glared harshly at her, a faint glow emitting from them as it edged ever closer to her.
It was an animatronic.
She sobbed, covering her eyes in horror. What would happen to her friends if she disappeared, never to return? They would all sorrowfully pronounce her dead, and they would had mourned their loss, her loss. Especially over her older brother, who teased her and played tricks on her, who would never know her last words, were that she loved him more than anything... They would become the last survivors of their clique, doomed to wonder what had caused her to suffer the such a fate, to feel what tragic end their comrade had… to suffer from that very lack of vital knowledge...
"Please, no," she whispered, shivering and shuddering pitifully from terrible memories. William's violet eyes flared in rage. "Yes," he snapped at her. He raised the gleaming dagger. In the shadows it looked like a devious sword, ready to slice her open. She was only ten, and yet she had seen much more than even her grandfather... poor soul, about to be unwillingly immortalized as a twisted hunter... Her heart hammered in her delicate chest as the last moments of her passed.
She remembered now. Yes, she would never forget, not until she was truly deceased, deceased in an honorable way. The details flooded into her mind with painful accuracy-the way her brother had hugged her right before she slipped into this mysterious room, his scent... of basketballs, of blue jeans coated with sweat. Those sneakers pointed eagerly to the place where she would die... She remembered how she reassured him. "I'll be back before you know it, Matt." He had given her a look full of concern. "If you say so, Portabella." Typical of her brother to call her a mushroom. But it was a goodhearted nickname that she always pretended to be annoyed at, to make him beam at her. In reality she loved it. It was the last memory little Bella Vitale had... oh, what she would give to see Matt one last time. But she wouldn't. She would be trapped in this world forever... She had practically already passed on, and he was watching from his heart with the others, no doubt about it. He sensed something was wrong... he was hurrying down now. She felt it. But he would be too late, whether she liked it or not. No, she definitely despised it.
Her eyes flashed darkly. Never to see them again? You could understand her sudden desire for vengeance. A child who lost everything to the one standing right in front of her. She could exact revenge. But not now... perhaps... later...
She copied his features into her memory-that dark hair, those thin features.
William brought the knife down. The end was surprisingly peaceful, much more than she had worried it would be. The blade cut through her flesh like it was cutting through butter, and she fell gently to the bloodstained floor, a tree falling to sand. Nose wrinkled, William tossed the girl carelessly into the suit. It shook, the metal springlocks snapping into place. Her bones fractured, her flesh tore apart, her silence forever sad... and yet her spirit was raging. The monster's optics immediately began to shift from ruby to a rich butterscotch, a color strangely frigid with hatred, but with quite good reason. Hatred, filled with the knowledge that cruel William Afton had killed all memory of her brothers, her friends... And now she was dead too. But while she only felt anger, he felt triumphant. This was it. After all those years of toiling, nightmares, tears.
The first successful result.