Vincent was...different. There was no other word to describe it. Since he was born with grey eyes, no pupils so you could never know if he was looking at you, and purple hair that stuck out everywhere, he had an air of uniqueness around him. Of course, later, people just thought he was weird looking.

Then, there were the "episodes".

Vincent would be playing with he toys, when his eyes would turn black with white pupils, and a creepy smile would stretch its way onto his face. He'd rip the heads off his toys, tear them to pieces, and then stop. His eyes would go back to gray, and he'd fix his toys, confused on why they were broken in the first place.

His first word was purple.

His second word was murder.

His parents finally took him to a psychologist, who diagnosed him with multiple personality disorder. He gave him medication to stop the episodes. Vincent took two pills a day, and was never allowed to go outside, in fear of hurting other children. Vincent hated every moment of it.

That is, until he finally went to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

It was the first time he'd been more than five miles from his house, or to the doctors, and it was magical. He loved Freddy with his songs, Chika with her pizza, and Bonnie with his bass.

Foxy was always his favorite.

He remembered seeing the Pirate for the first time, gray eyes shining silver in excitement. Nothing, not even his stupid disorder, could have made that day end badly. He had even met his first real friend there, Mikey. Mikey loved Foxy just as much as he did, and they both wished to be a part of his crew, so they set off on a quest together. As friends. The thought made Vincent smile.

1987.

He was playing with Mikey, eating pizza and talking about how to be part of Foxy's crew, when he came out. He whispered in his ear, voice warm, but icy cold in tone.

"Hello Vincent," He said, and Vincent froze at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

No...please.

Why wasn't his mother here? She was always here when he needed medicine. Vince, at least, that's what he preferred to be called, grabbed his neck with cold, clammy hands, and Vincent didn't know why he could breathe but not speak. Soft chuckling reached his ears as he struggled, vocal cords constricting as they tried to make sound.

"Mikey...run!" He choked out, before his vision went black.

"My turn."

Black eyes with white pupils opened, and Vince took a breath of air in joy. It'd been so long since he'd been in control. The boy, Mikey, was sitting beside him with a red sweater that had a cartoon Foxy on it, a red and orange bandanna, and a toy hook. He gave him a confused look.

"Hey, Vincent, did ya say somethin'?" He asked, and Vince nearly growled at the name of his goody-two-shoes counterpart, but regained his composure.

"Call me Vince. Also, I was just saying that I heard if you go past the line in Pirate's Cove and call Foxy your hero, he'll make you part of his crew!" He said in a fake sweet voice, flashing Mikey a smile. Mikey's eyes widened, and he immediately jumped out of the booth they were in.

"Thanks Vince! I'm gonna do that right now!" He yelled over his shoulder as he made his way to the pirate. Vince chuckled darkly, eyes narrowing and smile widening to become crookedly vicious.

"My pleasure."

Vincent's mom, ran through the crowds as fast as she could, desperately searching for her son. He was supposed to have taken his pill ten minutes ago, and she didn't know what would happen if she didn't get to him soon. She saw him standing by a booth, and almost cried in relief, before she gasped at the wide toothy grin and black eyes. She immediately grabbed him, shoving medication down his throat, tears falling down her cheeks because no mother should have to do this to their son, or have a son who squirmed away from in in spite and hatred. She hated every moment of it. Why did Vincent have to be trapped?

Vince struggled to get away from his mother's, though he hardly thought of her as such, grasp. He growled when the pill was shoved forcefully down his throat, trying to spit it out, but to no avail. He sighed, but looked to Pirate's Cove in excitement.

At least I can still see the show.

He laughed, before his black eyes shut.

Vincent woke with a groan, looking to see his mother above him. His mind scrambled to remember what had happened. Vince whispered in his ear again, the voice so pleased it was sickening.

"Don't forget to check Pirate's Cove!"

Vincent gasped and whirled towards the cove.

Mikey!
He ran, seeing his friend walk past the line and up to Foxy. He'd noticed the animatronic had seemed glitchy that day, so he'd tried to keep Mikey away from the cove to keep him safe. Just then, Foxy groaned, mouth flopping open as he fell.

Right on Mikey's head.

People screamed from all around as Foxy's jaw closed with a sickening crunch. Blood spurted everywhere, and Vincent ran to the fox, punching the jaw until it finally opened, Mikey's limp form falling to the ground, part of his brain still stuck in Foxy's teeth. Vincent looked down at his hands, which were stained in blood. Mikey's blood. He fell to his knees and shook in fear and sadness, tears streaming down his face as blood pooled around, painting the floor red.

Somewhere in his head, Vince laughed.

Five years later:

When Scott first saw Vincent, it was through a window. His father was a doctor, and worked with mental patients often. Sometimes, when school was out, his father would take him to work, and Scott watched the patients come and go. They weren't really eye-catching, and it was kind of boring, but then a new patient appeared.

It was a ten year-old boy, just like himself.

He would have been lying if he said he hadn't been intrigued by the messy purple hair that was tied up in a small ponytail with a red rubber-band and silver eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing all at once. He pushed his brown hair back and squinted with green eyes as his father gave the kid a bottle of pills. The kid just nodded, walking away, a dead look in his eyes.

"Father, who was that child? What does he have?" He'd asked later during dinner, and his father seemed surprised that his son bothered to notice the new patient, but replied anyway.

"His name is Vincent. Apparently he has multiple personality disorder, and a very violent alter-ego," He said, and Scott's eyes widened in excitement because there was something interesting around now. He fiddled with his phone, which was bright red, and smiled.

The first time Vincent saw Scott, he was playing the piano. He did that a lot, since Mikey, because he didn't trust himself to go outside, to see anyone. He played a blues tune, mind floating through the notes as he felt himself be whisked away into a scene of tragedy.

"What are you doing?"

Vincent slammed his hands down on the keys in surprise, the song abruptly stopping, along with the scene. He turned to see a boy his age looking through a window with green eyes, tan skin and brown hair shining in the sunlight. He glared at the boy.

"I was playing the piano, but you interrupted me," He replied coldly, but the boy seemed unfazed by his tone, the smile he'd worn since talking still ever-present on his face, contrasting Vincent's scowl.

"Oh, Cool! Just, why are you playing such a sad tune? Play something happy!" The boy replied, and Vincent looked to the floor in anger and shame.

"I don't know how," He mumbled, because he only played what he felt, before looking up to the boy again. "And besides, why should I play a happy tune? I have no happiness," He continued, mind flashing back to the red on his fingers, to the screams and pain and death that never left his hands. The boy simply smiled some more, and Vincent heard a click as the window opened, the boy jumping in and sitting next to him, making him scoot over in surprise.

"I could teach you. The name's Scott, by the way," Scott said, and something grew in his chest, something warm, but Vincent ignored it.

"Teach me to what? To be happy or play happy music?" He asked, and Scott laughed, grabbing him and putting him a hug, and Vincent couldn't help but smile.

"Both."

Vincent put his hands on the keys, and played.

The first time Scott saw Vincent scared, was when they were playing.

He had made up a game of pirates, which for some reason Vincent was apprehensive to play. Yet, when they got started, Vincent was the most excited and played and laughed in joy. Scott noticed that Vincent didn't laugh often, but it was soft and sweet. They were trying to find the lost treasure of zombie sea land, which was a golden brain. Then, Vincent froze. Scott watched for a moment, confused, thinking that maybe he had thought of something cool. He backed away at the look of pure terror that made its way onto Vincent's face. Vincent was clawing at an invisible force, and was trying to reach into his pocket at the same time. Scott watched as a bottle of pills fell to the ground.

He has multiple personality disorder.

Scott sprang into action, grabbing the bottle and opening it, taking out a pill and dropping into Vincent's open mouth. Vincent gulped it down with difficulty, dropping into a sitting position while gasping for breath.

"Thanks," He muttered. Scott looked towards him warily.

"You okay? What happened?" He asked, and Vincent growled.

"Vince tried to get out," He replied, getting up and pacing back and forth. Scott cocked his head to the side.

"Vince?" He questioned, and Vincent grabbed his hair, pulling at it.

"He's… the other person in my head. He's not very nice. He wants to paint the whole world red," Vincent replied coldly, and Scott remembered his father's words.

"...a very violent alter-ego."

Vincent sighed, laying down on the grass. "I guess you don't want to be friends with me anymore," He said, voice resigned. Scott was shocked at the words.

"No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!" He yelled, and Vincent yelled, and Vincent gave him a tired look, one much to aged for someone so young.

"No one else has given me reason to believe otherwise," He replied. Scott grabbed Vincent hands in his own.

"I won't leave you. I like being your friend, and I won't leave," He said, eyes full of determination.

"I promise."

The first time Scott met Vince, they were in his house.

Vincent was petting Scott's cat, Phone. Scott never knew why he named his cat that, but Vincent didn't ask anyway. Scott grew bored at the silence.

"Wanna play hide and seek?" He asked, and Vincent nodded. Since he suggested the game, Vincent hid first. Scott searched around, and froze, hearing soft laughter. He jumped at the howls of pain coming from his cat. Running to the living room, he gasped at the sight. Vincent was squatting next to his cat, whose stomach was cut open, guts spilling out over the floor. A knife was next to the limp feline, and Vincent's hands reached for it as he turned to see him. Scott shrunk at the black eyes with white pupils that stared through him, and the wide smile.

"Vi.. V.. Vincent?" He stammered, and the smile disappeared, a growl escaping Vincent's throat.

"My. Name. Is. Vince," Vincent, no, Vince said, eyes narrowing, and Scott shook at the tone. Vince walked toward him, spinning the knife in his hand.

I'm gonna die!

"Why don't we play a game?" The smile was back, wide and soft, eerily stretched from ear to ear. Scott took a step back, making himself as small as possible as Vince leaned in, face nearly touching his.

Doing what any rational person would have done in his situation, he punched Vince in the face.

Vince fell over onto the ground, knocked out. Scott breathed heavily, raising a hand to his chest to calm himself. Vince groaned, and Scott froze again. Vince looked up at him with wide silver eyes.

Silver is safe, right?"Scott?" Vincent questioned, and the voice was too much like Vince, like a madman's. Vincent, or Vince, because Scott couldn't tell anymore, got up and reached out, and Scott recoiled from the hand. Vincent stared, eyes full of hurt and confusion. Scott turned around.

And he ran away.

Vincent couldn't comprehend the pain he was feeling.

Scott left me.

It wasn't fair! His only friend got taken away from him. Again! He walked to his house, eyes down cast.

"I told you that you would always be alone, but you never listened."

Vincent took a pill in response to Vince's claim, growling under his breath as the voice he loathed disappeared. He felt his anger grow as his thoughts spun.

He promised! He promised he wouldn't leave!

Tears stung at his eyes as he walked blindly to his house. It didn't matter though, because he knew the way. He wrinkled his nose in disgust when a smell hit him.

Smoke?

He snapped his head up, gasping and staring at the burning house that was his own.

Mom! Dad!

Faster than he'd ever moved before, he ran to the house, screaming and sobbing as the firemen tried fruitlessly to put out the flames that engulfed his home.

Inside himself, his heart burned like the fire.

Yet, he felt numbingly cold.