An: I know I need to update Rin and the White Child, just wait. But for now enjoy a fic that shares the same headcanon, (which is now an AU) used in my poem Not The Same, check it out if you want.

...

The room seems to spin as the night drags on, time moves slowly for you tonight, and you know you'll be exhausted tomorrow, but then again, sleep is something you gave up when you became a night watchmen, an interesting position for a longtime employee to take, but never mind that. No one's around during the night, no one but you and the animatronics, and frankly you're more worried about them hurting you, than you hurting them.

But at the same time you know there's something more dangerous on the inside of the doors, something horrifying, trapped inside your mind…

Something you don't want anyone to find out.

You don't want him taking over and finding your fellow employees, he won't let live long, then you'll once again find yourself in a pool of blood, splatters all over you, as you'd chuckled to relieve the tension, considering how many have been killed since he first started, and then you'd chuckle again, remembering how many people you'd always end up cleaning up after, and how this case wasn't very different, it was just… messier..

...

He's gotten out again, you can tell. As you see the broken parts of the animatronics scattered around the safe room's door and the oil covered axe laying by your foot, yes he's definitely been out and he doesn't know how horrible of a mistake he's made.

But you do, you see the ghostly children walking towards you and you panic, you run into the safe room and then everything goes black.

And when you comeback you feel as though you being crushed and torn apart at the same time as you scream in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks because it hurts, they warned everyone about this suit, how dangerous it was, but he apparently didn't know that.

And you can see the children from the corner of the mask, sniffling one final time before disappearing, but one remains, and they leave your view, going out the safe room door, leaving you to cry out in agony.

...

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

You can feel the blood rolling down your arm as you stare at the wall, your throat's hoarse from screaming and your eyes are red and puffy from all the tears.

You can see the large puddle of blood surrounding you, growing steadily bigger every minute, you wish that you could die already, rid yourself of this pain and torment. For the springlocks hadn't hit anything that would wound you fatally and make your death quicker, no, you are forced to watched the puddle around you get steadily bigger as your precious life blood slowly empties out of your body.

The only freedom you'd gotten from the pain is when he came out, letting you fall into a blissful black nothingness free from the pain but alas nothing good last forever, as your thrown back into control, feeling the metal dig farther into your body, you're helpless.

And it's a gift from God himself when you finally begin to feel lightheaded and see black darkening your vision, you give a smile as your eyes close.

You're free.

...

But he's not.

And if he's not, you're not, you are the same person after all. Two sides of coin, two minds and souls in one body. He's you and you're him.

But at the same time you're not.

You're not him, he's not you. But he is you but you're not him. You're not the same and you'll never be the same. He'll always be you, but you'll never be him.

Not if you can help it.