Authors' Note: This fan fiction is based off of the events of Five Nights at Freddy's 4, Five Nights at Freddy's: Sister Location and Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes, however this story takes place in an alternate universe, so it will not fall into the FNaF timeline that we know of (or at least until Scott changes it AGAIN).

Written by: Amber Michaelis and Joeneauxvieve

Edited by: Joeneauxvieve

This is the story of my supposed 'death'. Very few people know that I'm still alive. Honestly, I don't know whether to call myself dead or alive. For now, I'll just use the term 'trapped'.

I know, I know, it sounds extremely vague. If I told you what I am right now, you probably wouldn't believe me. If for some reason you DO believe me, the first question you'd ask is how did I come to be like this? A monster; a killer; a machine; a human being trapped in an inescapable cocoon of pain, despair, and death.

Ok, that last one was a bad analogy. But at least some idea of what I'm talking about.

Perhaps the best way for you to understand everything is if you know the whole story. It's … well…

Enough stalling, here's what happened.

My dad was the manager of Fredbear's Family Diner. He put so much pride in that restaurant. My brother Michael and I loved it there when we were little, now we were making minimum wage after school and every Sunday. I cleaned toilets and waited on tables while Michael operated the Spring Bonnie suit. However, the only thing Michael did with it was terrorize our little brother. For some reason, he found it funny to see our little brother collapse to the floor and bawl his eyes out. I felt like a babysitter for two little kids in addition to the four-hour shift I was forced to work through every day.

Ever since our mom died, our little brother was terrified of the place. She was killed on the spot by a drunk driver who crashed through the glass doors. Michael and I didn't see it, but Peter was there the whole time. He watched our mother die. He was a few feet ahead of her, so he only suffered minor injuries, but it was an experience that no one should have to witness, much less a four-year-old boy.

The driver was said to be wearing a purple jumpsuit and a Fredbear mask. The driver was caught a few days later, but that tragic event haunted Peter for years. As a result, he became terrified of the employees because they all wore matching purple jumpsuits. He also wouldn't dare to go within a thirty-foot radius of Fredbear or Spring Bonnie.

Our dad has always been strangely secretive about the restaurant. Even though Michael and I had been working there for five years now. He sent Michael to some place I don't know about, and for the one day he's been gone, it's been glorious. Peter is more relaxed and not constantly hiding under the tables, and work has been less stressful for me. Michael's friends picked on Peter a little bit for being scared of the robots in suit and animatronic mode. But thankfully, it wasn't nearly as bad as what Michael would do or say to him.

I bought Peter a Fredbear plush after work, figuring it would help him be less afraid of the mascots. To my surprise, he adored the toy. He asked me to get him the plushies for the mascots from the other restaurants in Fazbear Entertainment. $40 later, he had the whole collection, Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie the Blue Bunny, Chica the Chicken, and his second favorite after Fredbear, Foxy the Pirate Fox. He told me he didn't want Plush Spring Bonnie. He was scared of getting his finger stuck in it. I'll admit, it was kind of funny seeing a tiny seven-year-old cram five stuffed animals in his little arms.

Michael hasn't been to the restaurant during the day. Dad told me he was sleeping all day because he took the night shift at this other job he had. I prayed to myself that hopefully Michael would be less of an asshole after the week he was assigned to this job. Dad promised that if his behavior didn't change, he would send him back to work there for another week, and would continue doing that until his attitude dropped.

When Peter heard this news, he seemed relieved. He didn't say anything, but his tiny smile and small glimmer of joy in his brown eyes said it all. All of the Aftons' dark brown eyes seemed to give the same sparkle in reaction to anything we found satisfying.

"Charlie, I have to head back to the diner for an hour. Do you mind getting your brother ready for bed?" he asked me.

"No problem, Dad. He'll be asleep when you get back. I promise," I said. Dad hugged me and kissed Peter on the forehead before departing out the door. I directed Peter towards the bathroom.

The house had a calming silence. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. We passed by the living room and were greeted with a frightening figure that jumped out from behind the TV. The person was wearing all black and a bright red fox mask, modeled after the Foxy character. I was startled, but Peter immediately fell to the floor and started crying with fear. The figure gave a cackle I knew all to well. I felt my face burn with rage and my fists clench, ready to attack someone or something. I carefully brought Peter to his feet and whispered to him, "Peter, go brush your teeth, I'll be there in two minutes." Peter ran towards the bathroom and slammed the door.

I redirected my attention towards the masked figure in front of me. I quickly slid my sneaker off my foot and hit him with it as hard as I could. He only laughed harder, so I did something I knew would annoy him. I flicked the mask off his face with my hand. Unsurprisingly, Michael was the masked figure the whole time. I hit him across the face with my shoe, and he finally ceased laughing.

"What the FUCK, Michael?!" I whispered so Peter couldn't overhear me speaking with foul language. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I just wanted to have a little fun. What's wrong with that, sis?"

"You're going to give our baby brother nightmares! Are you shitting me? That's 'fun' to you?"

Michael giggled softly. He said nothing in reply.

"You know, I'm surprised Dad let's you close to the Spring Bonnie suit. You're so irresponsible, it's a miracle you haven't gotten hurt in it. You're nineteen! You need to swallow your pride and actually pull your weight at the restaurant. What do I do? I have to look after a child and a baby to make sure that you don't scare the other to death. Not to mention all the work I do at the restaurant! You have no idea how much of a relief today was, since I didn't have to look after a baby!" I firmly poked his chest as I said that final comment to make sure Michael knew I was referring to him when I said 'baby'.

"You need to shut the fuck up, Charlie. If anybody's a baby in this family, it's you!"

"How?" I argued.

"You won't quit whining!"

Out of anger, I took my shoe and threw it at Michael in the common weak spot that all men have. Next thing Michael knew, he was on the living room carpet in the fetal position with his hands between his legs. I walked off to go check on Peter, but wanted to say one more thing before Michael left the house.

"Good luck with work tonight… bitch."