The plush cupcake watched as his owner was slowly hacked to bits. He had always been watching hadn't he?
Carl was there when the man first came and lured the children to the back room. The man had been wearing a golden rabbit suit and bore a big friendly smile. That was the room where he decided to take their lives, one by one. The man had hacked away with his axe, until there was nothing left, except for vengeful souls. Carl had heard the children's desperate cries as the axe came down, cutting through flesh and bone. He had watched unable to turn away until the massacre was over and the floor was stained in blood.
The cupcake had looked at the man's face, scanning in mild curiosity. One day the man would pay for his crimes, that's just how things worked. That's what the children had always prayed for, so that they could be free and move on. The children had come back, but not willingly. Their souls were trapped inside the animatronic suits in which their bodies had been stuffed. The suits were their prison.
For years they cried for their freedom and Carl witnessed their spiraling descent. For every year that came and passed the children had become more like monsters, killing innocent night guards in cold blood and repeating the endless cycle of death. And then one day the man came back, to end the thing that he had started.
One at a time he lured them way, killing them just like he had the first time. Still children deep inside they couldn't resist the tantalizing idea of sweet treats or the possibility of their hands around the throat of the man dressed in purple.
Carl glanced down at his owner, a pile of shredded plastic and broken metal on the stained tiled floor. The footsteps from the man who had decided to come and play were quickly fading, along with the vibrant purple jacket that he wore around his broad shoulders.
He had never been fully aware like the others, there were no emotions. Through his unblinking eyes Carl had seen almost everything, but in a way he was blind. There was no understanding of importance or consequences. He felt nothing.
Maybe that was a good thing, for then there were no attachments to the one who lay next to him. Or so Carl thought to himself as he patiently waited for the pile of wires to twitch. Chica would wake up again and so would the others in time, time that's all they needed. They always come back.