Bob cried out in pain as the spring locks impaled him. He bled uncontrollably whilst the ghosts of his victims watched from afar. The suit was killing him, and he knew it. He struggled to escape from his oncoming death by yanking at the mask, but it was too late. He slumped up against the wall, twitching before he finally sat down to die. His blood coated the wall, floor and the suit itself.
The next morning, the manager arrived to find that his night guard was nowhere to be found. He looked all around the restaurant until he entered the back room, where he was met with a disgusting smell. He flicked the light switch and what he saw made him want to vomit, scream and faint all at the same time. He could the old spring lock suit against the wall, but it was caked with blood, along with the wall behind it and the floor surrounding it. He heard raspy breathing and a moan come from the suit before the left arm twitched. The air suddenly became cold as the breathing stopped. The light flickered and the manager instantly called for help. But Bob was dead.
The storm outside continued, attacking the old building with rain. The wind howled and shook the trees with mighty force. A flash of lightning, and soon there was oranges and reds that were too powerful to be killed by the falling rain. The flames ate away at the horror establishment, which was said to be cursed by the children that were murdered there over thirty years ago. The whole building had been engulfed by flames at this point, plastic melting and wallpaper crumbling, soon the walls gave way and the roof collapsed into nothingness. If one were to listen closely at that point, they could hear the distant echoes of shrieking children and the laughing of a mad man, all echoes of the past. The flames hissed and died out before grey smoke rose into the early sky. This place was forgotten, for now...
The room was dark. It was old. It was something of a piece of history, where a murderer met his fate. It smelled though. Alot. The walls were dark green with age and the pipes were rusty and one of the walls was stained with blood. The door had long since been built over, trapping memories inside along with tragedy.
Slumped against one of the walls was an old suit: Spring Bonnie, who was a part of the original establishment, Fredbear's Family Diner.
From time to time, the lights would flicker and if you were to listen carefully, you could hear the raspy breaths of a man long dead.