p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Griffin was exhausted. His grades were failing and when his parents were actually home to look at him, they'd tell em-order. He didn't deserve to be nicely told to do something. He didn't deserve his parents to be home and not work overtime to pay the hospital bills that still weren't paid off. He didn't deserve it, and he didn't get it, and that was good-/em him to go to bed. Even Anastasia was beginning to give him worried looks, and she... still hadn't forgiven him. He couldn't blame her, though. He hadn't forgiven himself, either./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Everybody seemed to turn against him, even his own mind. Every single night, when he fell asleep, he was plagued with the horrid memories of that wretched day. That would be fine -he knew he deserved those nightmares- if it weren't for the others. Nightmares of a man stained in purple, butchering kids, their horrid wails echoing through Griffin's mind before he was awoken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. The dreams would leave him sobbing. Much like how he had left his poor little brother many times over the past years./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He was terrified to sleep; the nightmares plagued him so horribly. He was even growing to fear closing his eyes as time went on. Once, he had closed his eyes for a moment during class and had been thrown into a terrible nightmare. He couldn't remember what it was about, but could remember waking from it with a scream, clutching at his arms to make sure they weren't crushed by metal. His therapist em-he didn't need a therapist didn't want one didn't deserve one stop trying to fix him he's broken he should stay broken-/em was growing increasingly irritated with him when he entered her office with large, dark bags under his eyes caused by lack of sleep. Multiple times they had tried giving him sleeping pills to let him get a decent night's rest, but the nightmares were always worse when he was drugged, filled with singing animatronics ripping him to pieces while a puppet held him down, keeping him from escape./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Every dream he had always seemed to have something to do with that goddamned place, always those animatronics, and most of all, that damn marionette that seemed to forever cry; much like his little brother. His skin was extremely pale from being malnourished em-he couldn't eat he didn't deserve to eat-/em he couldn't even enjoy his favorite pizza because it reminded him too much of that day. His hair was unkempt from running his hands through it in paranoia. Everything he saw that even slightly reminded him of his little brother broke his heart, usually bringing him to tears. He wished this never happened, he wished that he would have treated his brother properly, to actually show him how much he truly cared but of course, unfortunately, it did happen./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"It was almost a relief that everyone shunned him, now. All the less people to try and force him to take care of himself. Griffin rarely spoke with his friends anymore, mostly because they all ignored him. Even the ones that had helped him torment his younger sibling; they twisted the story, claiming that it was his fault they were just doing what he had said he should have emknown/em. As much as he agreed with them, he wished they'd stop ignoring him, if only to do something like beat him em-he deserved it he deserved to hurt to bleed to cry-/em. He was so lonely, now, and he was left to burden his feelings of guilt on his own./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Not only that, but he had gotten to the point where he wasn't able to tell reality from his nightmares. Sometimes he would see his crying brother out of the corner of his eyes, or hear his little brother's sobs through his headphones. He would be laying in his bed, hoping that his mind wouldn't torment him and he would feel small hands touching his back, and he would turn to see nothing. His nightmares would become more vivid and detailed; he would see his brother crying in the corner of the pizza place, watching the children surrounding him in the circle wearing the animatronic masks, bloodstained bandages draped on his face where he was bitten. They'd soon turn into the purple man walking up the hallway, axe scraping across the wall tauntingly before Griffin woke up in a cold sweat, again tears already running down his cheeks./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The point was: Griffin was tired. He was just- he was tired of emeverything/em. There were many times he had even contemplated suicide, but either fear of how much it would hurt em-such a coward-/em or he'd be interrupted from his thoughts by his sister calling him for dinner em-why did she care she didn't love him anymore he was a monster she should just leave him alone and let him die-/em or something of the like would stop him from actually committing the act./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Another reason Griffin didn't want to kill himself was that he had questions he needed answered. The first was where was his brother's body was. After his death the body was removed from the hospital, claimed to of been stolen, and they had buried him without actually burying him. Not to mention the disappearance of five children from the restaurant and the newest animatronics to the pizzeria. He had to find out, this all had to be connected, he felt it in his bones. One of the things that bothered him the most was the mysterious purple guy who haunted his dreams. Who was he? How did this involve his brother or the pizzeria?/p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Of course, Griffin would then mutter to himself about making a note about talking to his therapist about possible insanity, because why was he even thinking about some literally purple guy in his dreams having anything to do with those missing children or his brother who he killed em-he killed him he's a murderer why is no one doing anything about it murderers shouldn't be allowed to walk around free so why is he-/em. He was beginning to go insane, he was sure, from this lack of sleep. But no matter how crazy he told himself it was, he couldn't help but wonder at what type of connection these things could have./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Griffin's mind fought against him one times too many, one night, and he decided to take a walk to clear his mind of the events that had happened. He stood up from his sitting position on the bed, sliding his jeans over his boxers and pulling on some old band T-shirt. He finally slipped his shoes on and headed for the door. After managing to sneak past his parents' room and descend down the creaky staircase past his brother's old room, he pushed open the front door and made his way out, into the cold night air./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The boy shivered at the cold, holding his arms close to himself. It was nearing the end of summer and the crisp chill of fog was beginning to appear in the town. He should've grabbed a jacket. Should turn back and grab a jacket to keep himself from freezing, but then the door closed behind him with a quiet click, and he headed down the street, away from the warmth of his house. Murderers should be be cold, so it was okay./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He walked for what seemed like hours, His feet ached, and he needed rest. Not to mention it was getting colder by the minute. He decided to stop to hopefully find a place to rest. He looked around, only to spot the place he didn't want to see. He sighed in defeat, knowing it was the only real option for him to warm up right now, and began to walk toward the front of the restaurant. He sighed again in relief, noticing the door was slightly ajar and slowly pulled it the rest of the way open, then walked inside./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"A heavy feeling covered him when he entered the pizzeria, and he choked down a sob at the abrupt feeling of sorrow that overcame him. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, as though that could protect against the emotion as he stumbled inside, into the warmth of the building. He closed the door with a light kick of his foot, peering into the darkness of the restaurant to try and see anything. This was where he had killed his brother. This was where he became a murderer and everyone, including himself, began to hate him./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He looked up at the animatronics that loomed in the black, scaring him when they started up. "H-hey, kids em(help me)/em come enjoy this delicious em(p-peo-peo-people)/em pizza with me!" Freddy spoke suddenly, head glitching to the side so quickly the Griffin was sure it was his imagination. A rancid- almost rotting smell wafting off the bear, taking Griffon's breath away as the boy gagged. He turned, hearing footsteps running towards him followed by a loud scream that was almost drowned out by strange wailing. He glanced back to Freddy, before making an aborted move towards the animatronic to hide behind it. Freddy was missing./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Griffin made a strangled noise of fear, taking a stumbling step back. What the-? How had-? How had Freddy moved? That was- And who had screamed? That had just been his imagination, right? Right? After all, the noise had been- had been accompanied by that weird wailing, and no human could make that noise, so no one was being murdered, so it was all in his head! He took a cautious step towards the noise, turning away from the other animatronics./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He heard shuffling behind him and he glanced back, noticing that Bonnie had disappeared as well leaving Chica and her cupcake staring at him. He made another noise of fear, turning again to run when he heard the sound of children's' laughter, so familiar it caused his heart to ache. This reminded him so much of his nightmares that he thought -with clear relief- that that was all this was. This was just another nightmare, but he still didn't want to die, even if it was just a dream, so he ran forward, towards the noise, he belatedly realized. But now he was too far from the door and turning back would mean he'd need to get closer to Chica, and it was likely childish, but he'd rather run from the scary robot towards the unknown instead of being eaten by a chicken./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The long corridor was dimly illuminated by the flickering light originating from the security area, and Griffin sped up just the slighest bit to reach it faster, because he knew he'd be safe there. The night guard would keep him safe./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He suddenly lost his footing, giving a yelp as he fell into a large puddle. What the...? Was there some sort of leak? He looked down to see that he was covered in blood. The puddle was a puddle of emblood./em He gave a scream, scrambling back to get out of the puddle, falling onto his back, which caused him to see a man. A man hanging from the rafters in a Fazbear suit. A dead, gory man hanging from the rafters in a Fazbear suit. He screamed again, and probably would've screamed until his lungs burst had he not spotted the fox animatronic running at him. He climbed to his feet swiftly, full of panic as he quickly scampered down the hallway to the security room, pressing all the buttons on the walls in the hopes it would do something useful./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Griffin yelped when the large metal doors fell into place, scrambling under the desk and lodging himself in the corner, closing his eyes tight and gasping out sobs with the image of that night guard fresh in his mind. He folded his arms around himself, burying his face in the space between his arms and his knees. The laughter em-it couldn't be he was dead Griffin had span style="text-decoration: underline;"killed him/span-/em he heard before before he had spotted the dead man had to of been his imagination. This wasn't real. It was just a nightmare, for sure. Though it was the most terrifying nightmare he had so far./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Visions of the events in his nightmares began to play in his mind, even as he tried to hold back a panic attack. He clutched his aching head as the sounds em-children laughing, crying, tearing knife, screaming, pleading, man's laughter, glitching animatronics, more screaming so much screaming make it span style="text-decoration: underline;"stop/span/em- played in his head./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The lights flickered and Grifin trembled with fear as the noises echoed in his head, squeezing his eyes tight. The lights flickered again as something banged on the door. The lights continued flickering as something else banged on the other door. Then, the lights flickered off a final time and didn't turn on again. A noise of scraping metal told of the doors opening and Griffin whimpered, pushing himself further under the desk, if that were possible. He risked a glance upwards, opening his eyes briefly only to spot animatronic legs stop in front of the desk as a began to lullaby play. He couldn't tell which animatronic the legs belonged to, and he didn't care, hiding his face again. This was a nightmare it had to be a nightmare he was going to wake up and be alive and everything would be normal./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The music stopped and he instinctively looked again, only to scream when he was faced with some sort of puppet peering at him with a wide smile that still seemed sad. More laughter-em his brother's laughter/emrang in his ears as the puppet reached out a too-slender arm for him./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"This wasn't a nightmare./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He didn't wake up./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Everybody seemed to turn against him, even his own mind. Every single night, when he fell asleep, he was plagued with the horrid memories of that wretched day. That would be fine -he knew he deserved those nightmares- if it weren't for the others. Nightmares of a man stained in purple, butchering kids, their horrid wails echoing through Griffin's mind before he was awoken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. The dreams would leave him sobbing. Much like how he had left his poor little brother many times over the past years./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He was terrified to sleep; the nightmares plagued him so horribly. He was even growing to fear closing his eyes as time went on. Once, he had closed his eyes for a moment during class and had been thrown into a terrible nightmare. He couldn't remember what it was about, but could remember waking from it with a scream, clutching at his arms to make sure they weren't crushed by metal. His therapist em-he didn't need a therapist didn't want one didn't deserve one stop trying to fix him he's broken he should stay broken-/em was growing increasingly irritated with him when he entered her office with large, dark bags under his eyes caused by lack of sleep. Multiple times they had tried giving him sleeping pills to let him get a decent night's rest, but the nightmares were always worse when he was drugged, filled with singing animatronics ripping him to pieces while a puppet held him down, keeping him from escape./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Every dream he had always seemed to have something to do with that goddamned place, always those animatronics, and most of all, that damn marionette that seemed to forever cry; much like his little brother. His skin was extremely pale from being malnourished em-he couldn't eat he didn't deserve to eat-/em he couldn't even enjoy his favorite pizza because it reminded him too much of that day. His hair was unkempt from running his hands through it in paranoia. Everything he saw that even slightly reminded him of his little brother broke his heart, usually bringing him to tears. He wished this never happened, he wished that he would have treated his brother properly, to actually show him how much he truly cared but of course, unfortunately, it did happen./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"It was almost a relief that everyone shunned him, now. All the less people to try and force him to take care of himself. Griffin rarely spoke with his friends anymore, mostly because they all ignored him. Even the ones that had helped him torment his younger sibling; they twisted the story, claiming that it was his fault they were just doing what he had said he should have emknown/em. As much as he agreed with them, he wished they'd stop ignoring him, if only to do something like beat him em-he deserved it he deserved to hurt to bleed to cry-/em. He was so lonely, now, and he was left to burden his feelings of guilt on his own./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Not only that, but he had gotten to the point where he wasn't able to tell reality from his nightmares. Sometimes he would see his crying brother out of the corner of his eyes, or hear his little brother's sobs through his headphones. He would be laying in his bed, hoping that his mind wouldn't torment him and he would feel small hands touching his back, and he would turn to see nothing. His nightmares would become more vivid and detailed; he would see his brother crying in the corner of the pizza place, watching the children surrounding him in the circle wearing the animatronic masks, bloodstained bandages draped on his face where he was bitten. They'd soon turn into the purple man walking up the hallway, axe scraping across the wall tauntingly before Griffin woke up in a cold sweat, again tears already running down his cheeks./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The point was: Griffin was tired. He was just- he was tired of emeverything/em. There were many times he had even contemplated suicide, but either fear of how much it would hurt em-such a coward-/em or he'd be interrupted from his thoughts by his sister calling him for dinner em-why did she care she didn't love him anymore he was a monster she should just leave him alone and let him die-/em or something of the like would stop him from actually committing the act./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Another reason Griffin didn't want to kill himself was that he had questions he needed answered. The first was where was his brother's body was. After his death the body was removed from the hospital, claimed to of been stolen, and they had buried him without actually burying him. Not to mention the disappearance of five children from the restaurant and the newest animatronics to the pizzeria. He had to find out, this all had to be connected, he felt it in his bones. One of the things that bothered him the most was the mysterious purple guy who haunted his dreams. Who was he? How did this involve his brother or the pizzeria?/p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Of course, Griffin would then mutter to himself about making a note about talking to his therapist about possible insanity, because why was he even thinking about some literally purple guy in his dreams having anything to do with those missing children or his brother who he killed em-he killed him he's a murderer why is no one doing anything about it murderers shouldn't be allowed to walk around free so why is he-/em. He was beginning to go insane, he was sure, from this lack of sleep. But no matter how crazy he told himself it was, he couldn't help but wonder at what type of connection these things could have./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Griffin's mind fought against him one times too many, one night, and he decided to take a walk to clear his mind of the events that had happened. He stood up from his sitting position on the bed, sliding his jeans over his boxers and pulling on some old band T-shirt. He finally slipped his shoes on and headed for the door. After managing to sneak past his parents' room and descend down the creaky staircase past his brother's old room, he pushed open the front door and made his way out, into the cold night air./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The boy shivered at the cold, holding his arms close to himself. It was nearing the end of summer and the crisp chill of fog was beginning to appear in the town. He should've grabbed a jacket. Should turn back and grab a jacket to keep himself from freezing, but then the door closed behind him with a quiet click, and he headed down the street, away from the warmth of his house. Murderers should be be cold, so it was okay./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He walked for what seemed like hours, His feet ached, and he needed rest. Not to mention it was getting colder by the minute. He decided to stop to hopefully find a place to rest. He looked around, only to spot the place he didn't want to see. He sighed in defeat, knowing it was the only real option for him to warm up right now, and began to walk toward the front of the restaurant. He sighed again in relief, noticing the door was slightly ajar and slowly pulled it the rest of the way open, then walked inside./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"A heavy feeling covered him when he entered the pizzeria, and he choked down a sob at the abrupt feeling of sorrow that overcame him. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, as though that could protect against the emotion as he stumbled inside, into the warmth of the building. He closed the door with a light kick of his foot, peering into the darkness of the restaurant to try and see anything. This was where he had killed his brother. This was where he became a murderer and everyone, including himself, began to hate him./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He looked up at the animatronics that loomed in the black, scaring him when they started up. "H-hey, kids em(help me)/em come enjoy this delicious em(p-peo-peo-people)/em pizza with me!" Freddy spoke suddenly, head glitching to the side so quickly the Griffin was sure it was his imagination. A rancid- almost rotting smell wafting off the bear, taking Griffon's breath away as the boy gagged. He turned, hearing footsteps running towards him followed by a loud scream that was almost drowned out by strange wailing. He glanced back to Freddy, before making an aborted move towards the animatronic to hide behind it. Freddy was missing./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Griffin made a strangled noise of fear, taking a stumbling step back. What the-? How had-? How had Freddy moved? That was- And who had screamed? That had just been his imagination, right? Right? After all, the noise had been- had been accompanied by that weird wailing, and no human could make that noise, so no one was being murdered, so it was all in his head! He took a cautious step towards the noise, turning away from the other animatronics./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He heard shuffling behind him and he glanced back, noticing that Bonnie had disappeared as well leaving Chica and her cupcake staring at him. He made another noise of fear, turning again to run when he heard the sound of children's' laughter, so familiar it caused his heart to ache. This reminded him so much of his nightmares that he thought -with clear relief- that that was all this was. This was just another nightmare, but he still didn't want to die, even if it was just a dream, so he ran forward, towards the noise, he belatedly realized. But now he was too far from the door and turning back would mean he'd need to get closer to Chica, and it was likely childish, but he'd rather run from the scary robot towards the unknown instead of being eaten by a chicken./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The long corridor was dimly illuminated by the flickering light originating from the security area, and Griffin sped up just the slighest bit to reach it faster, because he knew he'd be safe there. The night guard would keep him safe./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He suddenly lost his footing, giving a yelp as he fell into a large puddle. What the...? Was there some sort of leak? He looked down to see that he was covered in blood. The puddle was a puddle of emblood./em He gave a scream, scrambling back to get out of the puddle, falling onto his back, which caused him to see a man. A man hanging from the rafters in a Fazbear suit. A dead, gory man hanging from the rafters in a Fazbear suit. He screamed again, and probably would've screamed until his lungs burst had he not spotted the fox animatronic running at him. He climbed to his feet swiftly, full of panic as he quickly scampered down the hallway to the security room, pressing all the buttons on the walls in the hopes it would do something useful./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Griffin yelped when the large metal doors fell into place, scrambling under the desk and lodging himself in the corner, closing his eyes tight and gasping out sobs with the image of that night guard fresh in his mind. He folded his arms around himself, burying his face in the space between his arms and his knees. The laughter em-it couldn't be he was dead Griffin had span style="text-decoration: underline;"killed him/span-/em he heard before before he had spotted the dead man had to of been his imagination. This wasn't real. It was just a nightmare, for sure. Though it was the most terrifying nightmare he had so far./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"Visions of the events in his nightmares began to play in his mind, even as he tried to hold back a panic attack. He clutched his aching head as the sounds em-children laughing, crying, tearing knife, screaming, pleading, man's laughter, glitching animatronics, more screaming so much screaming make it span style="text-decoration: underline;"stop/span/em- played in his head./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The lights flickered and Grifin trembled with fear as the noises echoed in his head, squeezing his eyes tight. The lights flickered again as something banged on the door. The lights continued flickering as something else banged on the other door. Then, the lights flickered off a final time and didn't turn on again. A noise of scraping metal told of the doors opening and Griffin whimpered, pushing himself further under the desk, if that were possible. He risked a glance upwards, opening his eyes briefly only to spot animatronic legs stop in front of the desk as a began to lullaby play. He couldn't tell which animatronic the legs belonged to, and he didn't care, hiding his face again. This was a nightmare it had to be a nightmare he was going to wake up and be alive and everything would be normal./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"The music stopped and he instinctively looked again, only to scream when he was faced with some sort of puppet peering at him with a wide smile that still seemed sad. More laughter-em his brother's laughter/emrang in his ears as the puppet reached out a too-slender arm for him./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"This wasn't a nightmare./p
p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"He didn't wake up./p