Plushtrap stood in the center of the dimly lit kitchen. The sun's dying rays streaked across the tabletop, growing fainter with each passing moment. Nighttime was almost here.
The rabbit did not know what it was that he was waiting for, but he knew that it was important. He positioned himself so that he was now staring towards the front door, visible through the walkway. He made a nervous squeaking noise, tilting his head in question while standing there in the middle of the room.
He thought he saw movement, and he ran up to the door, to only see the light from a car's headlights glide their way across the wall, and vanish.
Emitting a disappointed chirring sound, he went back to the kitchen to remain standing there, staring at the door.
He wanted him to come back. He wanted him to live. To breathe. To be with him.
He gripped the table leg, his claws scratching into the wood. He gave a mournful mewl, gazing longingly at the front door, hoping in vain that he would enter through it.
"Benny is gone, Plushtrap," Freddy said as he came into the room, "He is gone, and he is never coming back. He is lost to us now. Taken by forces that we cannot control."
As much as he knew it to be true, Plushtrap did not want to believe it. He had seen the child's head get crushed in the animatronic's metallic jaws, and he had heard the sickening crunch of bone splintering and caving as the body became motionless and dead, pale and lifeless as blood leaked out in a steady stream onto the tile floor of the diner. He been there when he had died. He had seen everything that happened leading up to this moment.
So why was he still so unwilling to accept the truth?
He remembered his face, so young and innocent, too kind for this world. He remembered the nights when they would snuggle together while watching cartoons or movies, and he was suddenly overtaken by the desire to hear his laugh one more time, and to feel his arms wrapped around his body as the child held him against his chest and petted his ears and face.
Though they had only spent a short amount time together, Plushtrap had come to love Benny just as much as Freddy did. The last few weeks leading up to the chid's death had been some of the best moments in the rabbit's entire lifetime, and he'd been around for a while. In fact, at the end of the month he would be 23 in human years.
Plushtrap found himself going back through his memories of the time spent with him, and remembering the good times as well as the bad. If he could cry, if he had been capable of producing tears, he would have.
"Do not be discouraged," Freddy soothed, placing a paw on his arm. "This loss is a tragic one, yes, and I know that you were the one who witnessed his accident, but he is safe now, forever. His soul has flown away, and now he is at peace."
These words did not help to make Plushtrap feel any better, but he tried to accept them regardless. Directing his gaze to the stairs, he left the kitchen and ascended the stairs to the upper level of the house, his long ears twitching with unease.
He went into Benny's room and climbed onto the bed, lying there and staring into an invisible void, his thoughts a scattered mess.
He wanted to be where his friend was, he didn't want to leave him alone. He remembered the moment when he had witnessed benny's impending demise. The anger he had felt, the desire to hurt. To spill blood, to kill.
And he did kill. He did spill blood. He took from this world the very people who had caused Benny's death, and he would do it again. Only this time, he would make their deaths much more slow and painful as he ripped their guts out of their bodies.
He felt it again. That sickening pleasure that killing them had brought him. It had felt good and satisfying then, his teeth tearing into their throats to rip away their arteries, watching them as they gasped for breath and tried desperately to call for help.
Then when it was over, all he felt was pain and sadness. All he felt was hurt. Now, the emotional hurt was overwhelming him, muddling his thoughts and senses, confusing his mind. He wanted it to stop.
But with each passing day the feeling grew stronger and more apparent, and now he could hardly take this suffering. He wanted it to be over.
Freddy was there for him, and would continue to be, but he could not possibly know the depths of the rabbit's suffering. He said that he himself was experiencing the same thing, but Plushtrap did not see him hurting. Perhaps he was the strong one, then. Maybe the bear was only hiding his emotions from him so that he would not lose all hope.
Maybe he had already come to terms with Benny's death and had began to move on from it.
Plushtrap couldn't do that. He didn't think that he could even if he wanted to. Seeing his child caught in the jaws of the animatronic that had crushed his skull like an empty soda can had been one of the most horrific things he had seen in his life. Hearing the crack of bone as it splintered and broke into a million pieces would forever be ingrained into his memories for the rest of eternity.
The thought that Freddy did not care enough to show his true feelings enraged the rabbit. He was acting as if everything was normal, like Benny would just be walking through the door any moment now to run to them and tell them excitedly about his day.
He left benny's room and wandered into the hallway in a daze, not really focusing on his surroundings as much as he normally would. He fell down the stairs but did not feel himself doing so, and had only realized this as he was hitting the last step on the staircase.
Unfazed, he got to his feet and went back into the kitchen to think about what he would do now without his friend being there to cuddle him and love him. No more stories at night, no more plans to go away to some beautiful far away place with him. The one that he loved mot, now gone forever, never coming back to him.
As he sat there thinking about everything he had lost, he realized what it was that he wanted. He knew what would make it alright again.
He wanted to be where Benny was.
Plushtrap wished he could die.