Closets aren't the most comfortable places to hide, but they're perfect for getting away from the brutality of reality and pondering about things on in one's mind. What he likes about it is that it separates him from them.

The bottom of the door allows sunshine to slink into the dark closet. Other than that, the only other light in the cramped space is a pair of bleak, brown eyes. His eyes reflect what's inside, something dead and lost.

The animatronic inside the hallway's closet perks his yellow ears at the sound of approaching feet. His long ears brush against the tiny closet's side walls. Seeing the two shadows of large feet outside the closet, he pushes himself against the wall to further himself away from the figure outside.

"I know you're in there, Mike. Please come out."

"Screw off" Mike rasps, his voice sounding foreign to himself. Seems like the suit's taking over that, too. Soon his voice will become too altered for others to know that it's him.

Every day that passes, his new animatronic body sinks its claws further into Mike's soul and mind. Not his human body- somehow, it had disappeared. Impossible, right? But it's true. Not a bone or ounce of blood hides in Mike's new body. Standing in front of a mirror, he had examined himself from the inside of his metal mouth to the wires connecting his feet to his legs. Multiple times he's tried ripping himself up with knives, glass, and his own hands, but his suit won't budge. The pizzeria's spirit inside of him must have something to do with it. He's essentially a robot without any remains of his human self left except for his personality, eyes, and ever-changing voice.

"Please?"

There's worry in Freddy's voice. Well, who wouldn't be worried if their loved one decided to spend three weeks camping out in a closet? Since Mike doesn't need food or water, the only reason he left the closet was to stretch his aching wires. Technically he didn't need to breathe either, but he still did.

Waiting for Freddy to leave like he always does when he's ignored, Mike breathes in deeply. If Freddy knew how much he's hated, he would deem becoming friends with Mike a lost cause. Over the past weeks of being in the closet, Mike had started to feel the anger he felt for all the animatronics shift all onto Freddy, because wasn't Freddy the one that carried him to the room and pushed him into that suit? All of the animatronics showed emotions of regret throughout the whole ordeal, but Freddy only cared about him being a part of his twisted family. Sure, the other wanted that too, but Freddy was ultimately the one that acted upon it.

That second day of being "one of them", Mike had fallen to his strong emotions. It isn't something he likes to reminisce on due to the unfavorable outcome.

The animatronics had left him alone while his newly built body was adjusting. He had continued sitting on that table in the back, devoid of any emotion. It was after his breakdown and he couldn't recall a time when he felt worse. But when the sun was in the sky, Mike felt a small twinge in his body, growing larger every time he would think back to the procedure and his future.

The other animatronics were thrilled to witness Mike finally getting up from the table. It wasn't for the reason they expected it to be.

"Ya okay now?" Foxy asked, his eyes bright. Almost pouncing on him, Foxy felt impatient the whole time he lingered outside his door. He kept up with Mike's fast and determined steps down the hallway. He thought they were going to Pirate's Cove to start an adventure.

Being an animatronic and having a part of the building's spirit inside of him, Mike possessed inside of him something like an animatronic radar. It told him where the animatronics were in the pizzeria. Bonnie and Chica were away from the main area, and that was all that mattered.

Legs burning from the recent procedure, Mike awkwardly jogged into the main hall. His teeth clenched when he spotted the figure by the show stage. Anger consumed him from the inside out, and he wanted to rip off Freddy's head and ruin his metal insides, painfully and slowly. Starting for the figure, he breathed harshly in anticipation. Following closely behind, Foxy scrambled to keep up, a bad feeling in his chest.

"What ya be doin'?" Foxy voiced nervously, noting Mike's deadly face.

Freddy glanced up from the cleaning the floor and set aside his mop, throwing his arms out protectively just in time as Mike smashed into him with his heavy body. When the animatronics were feeling angry, their bodies would let out a considerable amount of heat. Freddy had never felt waves of heat rolling off an animatronic until now, the first clue of Mike's deep hatred of him.

"Fight me!" Mike yelled, his mouth twitching uncontrollably with wrath. Against the bear, he noticed that they were around the same height. His voice was twitchy due to his infuriation. "You don't have the upper hand anymore, so fight me!" Let me kill you!

Freddy noticed the anger tearing Mike apart and his hands gently pushed Mike away. How easy it was to relate to Mike's feelings, for he had felt the same many years ago. "Stop this," he said softly, eyes urging him to stop. His tone of voice made Mike growl.

As two fists were wildly thrown, Freddy clamped onto them before they touch his body. Humongous and strong, Freddy's hands crush Mike's. Excitement coursed through Mike. This was his chance. Could his soul be freed if the leader of the place was murdered? But however hard Mike struggled, he couldn't free his hands from Freddy's. Kicks were lashed out, Freddy dodging them effortlessly. The excitement bore into intense anger.

His hands started to bend under the pressure. Telling Freddy to let go, though, would be admitting defeat. Freddy's eyes bored into Mike's, pleading him to stop. Freddy flinched when Mike's teeth sunk into his fur. Automatically he snapped his arm upward, cracking one of his teeth.

Why am I still struggling to break free? We're both animatronics, there are no advantages. I should be winning against this dumbass. But Freddy wouldn't let go of his hands.

At that point Mike suddenly realized that nothing had changed. He was still a weak human inside and Freddy would always be the stronger one. I'll always struggle. At once the urge to kill Freddy escaped Mike's mind. Why try to do something when you knew you could never do it?

Freddy broke the eye contact when Mike stopped struggling, having a good idea of what Mike was thinking. Foxy stood off to the side, watching the altercation. "Foxy, please take Mike. Bring him into the kitchen and get him something to eat," Freddy commanded, releasing Mike's hands. There was no need to hold onto them longer; they wouldn't struggle.

Foxy knew something important had exchanged between the two but was completely clueless. All he could do was smile at Mike and walk alongside him to the kitchen. "Lad, t'reason why I like ya so be because ya true t' yourself. I always admire that in people, t'not be scared o' showin' their thoughts and feelin's, even against someone strong like Freddy."

That was when Mike smiled and his livid feelings towards Foxy left like a stale breeze.

Mike ate the delicious pizza made by Chica and afterword seeked out the closet like returning to a lost lover. In the shadows of the dreary closet, Mike could pretend that he was somewhere else than the pizzeria. The closet he chose was strategically by the kitchen, and he could hear Chica bustle around with pots and pans. Since the power was cut off, the leftover dough was frozen in a freezer packed with ice and the dough was cooked over a fire.

Hearing these sounds, sometimes Mike convinced himself that it was his mother cooking. Chica oftentimes knocked on the closet and left a plate of pizza outside the door. Bonnie would pass by the closet and never ask Mike how he was doing, knowing that Mike did feel like shit and not reminding him so, but would inform him on the weather and how the sky seemed to change daily. The anger for them left, until the only negative feelings he had left were all for Freddy.

Freddy bangs on the door, snapping Mike from his thoughts. "You don't have a choice. Get out now or I'll come in there myself."

"Break down the door then," Mike snaps. There's a tense silence. For a second he thinks Freddy's about to leave, but then the door shudders with a loud bang. Shocked, Mike squints at the light and dust that blows into his eyes.

Grabbing the dismantled door, Freddy chucks it to the side. "Get up." He holds out his hand, waiting for Mike to grab on.

Not acknowledging the help, Mike sluggishly stands. His metal legs make an ear-grating sound from lack of use. "What do you want?" he mumbles, irritated.

"Follow me."

"Why?" Mike asks suspiciously.

"Trust me."

"Not a chance," Mike mumbles under his breath. If the closet door was on he would've crept back in. However, since it was missing, there was really nothing else to do other than follow Freddy. I'll make this as painful as I can.

They make their way down the hallway, Freddy glancing back to make sure Mike doesn't wander off. With tired eyes, he sighs when he sees Mike dragging along and patiently waits for him to catch up. At the show stage Freddy motions for Mike to sit at one of the tables. Sitting at a table in the front row, Mike wonders what this is all about. It kind of feels like attending a college class.

"I want to explain something to you," Freddy starts out, but his eyes leave Mike to something over his shoulder. Looking back, Mike sees Bonnie, Foxy, and Chica enter the room. They all give Mike encouraging smiles as they take their places at his table. Bonnie makes way to sit by him, but Foxy beats him to it. Giving an annoyed humph, Bonnie takes the open seat next to Chica.

When everyone's settled, Freddy coughs loudly. "I'll start out by saying that you, Mike, are truly one of us. I consider you a part of my beloved family, and it pains me to see you so unwilling to be a part of it. But, I was expecting that. I knew you would hate me for changing you into one of us." Freddy glances at the ground, misery in his eyes.

"You're right, I do hate you," Mike assures. Chica claps a hand over her mouth at the audacity of the sentence.

"Stop givin' Mike that look, it's annoyin'," Foxy snaps. Bonnie immediately glances at Freddy, rubbing his nose in embarrassment.

"Chica, this shouldn't come as a shock. The reason why I was the one that put him into that suit was because I knew he would hate me more than any of you. I can deal with this hate, and I don't want you to experience Mike's astray emotions."

Could I get away with picking up a table and chucking it at Freddy? Mike wonders, tracing a hand over the shiny tabletop.

"Continuing on, I recognized you when I saw you enter the pizzeria as the night guard. You looked entirely different from your younger self, but I knew it was you. Years back you came here as a child, and I clearly remembered your face. You loved playing with us and smiled throughout the hours you were here." Freddy's voice drops and his face twists into an ugly sneer. "But then your father came in to pick you up. You were by my side on the stage when he arrived. I remember how scared you looked. You became this different person as he went up to you and pulled you by the arm. I wanted to rip that man's face off and allow you to stay here forever. I wanted to protect you from him."

"What the hell do you know about my father?" Mike snaps. "And I never took a step in this place when I was younger. You're making crazy shit up to try to make me like you more. It's not going to happen, so stop trying."

"Mike..." Foxy mutters.

"If only you knew how caring Freddy is," Chica whispers, feeling sick to her stomach watching Mike tear Freddy apart with his horrible words.

"Actually, you did," Bonnie clarifies, head cocked as he remembers. "You played my guitar and got messy fingerprints all over the paint. I still have them on my guitar if you want proof."

"Argh, I remember it like it happened yesterday," Foxy grins. "You peeked into me cove and said hi to me. I know it sounds like nothin', but nobody gave me any attention since they scrapped me."

"I didn't go there," Mike insists. "Oh my god, you got the wrong person."

"All I want is understanding between us," Freddy continues, voice neutral.

"How can I understand the one that killed me?" Mike snaps, wanting to smile at Freddy's suddenly deadly expression. "You were the one that pushed me into that suit. I know that the other helped, but I'm not blaming them. They were under your directions. You're the dictator here, and I can see you brainwashing them."

"I did not force them to do anything," Freddy argues. "They did it with their own free will, so don't give me that 'brainwashing' bullshit. I care about them too much to use such tactics against them!" At the end of the sentence he's almost yelling. Chica squeaks, not used to Freddy cursing.

"Stuffing you in a suit was the only way. I never wanted to see you as miserable as the day your father came in and picked you up! For all I knew you still lived with your father when you walked through these doors as the night guard!"

"STOP TALKING ABOUT MY FATHER!" Mike screams, his voice echoing throughout the building. Everyone's shocked into silence; even Freddy shows hints of surprise.

"Why don't we bake something?" Chica suddenly offers, patting Mike on the back. He doesn't have the heart to tell her to fuck off, that he's in a terrible mood and wants to be left alone.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea!" Foxy glances at Mike hopefully, wanting to escape from the deadly atmosphere. All of them look at Mike hopefully except for Freddy, who contains an upset expression and stares out the window. "What do ya say, mate?"

He wants to return to his closet but Freddy broke the damn door down. Maybe he can find another closet. But then again, what good would that do? To hide for the rest of his life? Maybe I can start a rebellion against Freddy, Mike ponders.

"Sure."


It wasn't like Mike enjoyed cooking when he was fully human. Whenever his stomach started to growl or his taste buds desired something in particular, his food was always handed to him in a bag through a drive-thru window. Not once can he recall cooking up something for himself that wasn't frozen or a cup of noodles.

That mindset changed when he started to cook at the pizzeria. While mixing sauces or keeping an eye on the dough above the fire (since the oven didn't work), it gave him a distraction. For those moments in the kitchen he could forget about his struggle of being transformed into an animatronic and pretend that he was working at a low-pay job with the suck ass boss being Freddy.

Chatting with Chica wasn't all that bad, either. Since Mike remained in the kitchen for a larger part of the day, he attracted the other animatronics to the kitchen. Chica was delighted at the sudden attention it was getting, and Mike assumed that she felt left out, being the only girl in the establishment.

Determined to be Mike's best mate, Foxy spent most of the passing days in the kitchen. Bonnie also made it a personal mission to hang out in the kitchen as often as he could. Both boys were bombarded with the staggering amount of pizza that Chica and Mike created. They never failed to eat every last slice.

Even though Mike had left that closet a week ago after that huge argument with Freddy, in six day's time he had learned an abundant amount of information about the animatronics. Except Freddy, Mike made sure to ignore him. When he would enter the kitchen Mike would flit over to watch the pizza cook or anything to make the bear feel as unwelcome as possible. When he would try to make conversation, Mike would hum and drown out his voice.

All of them slept in the show stage on old fluffy blankets, and Mike made sure to sleep as far away from Freddy as possible. Good thing Foxy was the blockade. Not that he was up against Mike when he was sleeping, Mike made sure he was a little ways away due to his smell, but Foxy's blanket was closest to his. Being used to sleeping by a wall, Mike slept in between the wall and Foxy. Bonnie would've, but Foxy had shooed him away, leaving him to sleep by Chica and Freddy. Mike felt bad for Bonnie but didn't say anything, not wanting Foxy to get upset. For some reason, there was a competition between the two boys that Mike couldn't fully understand.

On the seventh day, bright in the morning, Mike's in the kitchen. Chica's beside him, setting out the spices needed for creating the sauce. She's in charge of mixing the dough but has trouble getting it out of the bottomless freezer. "You're taller than me, so could you get the dough for me?" she had asked that first day of him being in the kitchen.

It's when Mike opens up the cold freezer, peeking inside and grabbing the last pounds of dough, that he realizes that this past week of serenity in the kitchen is going to end. This is the last of it, Mike glumly thinks, staring at the dough.

"It's all we have left." Handing the dough to Chica, he takes the pack of matches on the table and lights one. Throwing it into the fireplace, he watches the bright flame become steadily larger and engulf the wooden sticks.

"Oh no, what'll I do now?" Chica wonders aloud, worried. "All I do around here is cook!"

"We'll figure something out," Mike promises, smiling to hide the lie. He feels better when Chica grins back. I wonder if she'll join my rebellion against Freddy.

"Chica?" Bonnie enters the kitchen briskly, his expression frazzled. "Freddy wants to see us. I don't know why, so don't ask."

Leaving me out I see. More than likely it's about me, being all secretive and involving Faz. I'm tempted to follow them and see what this is about.

"Alright, wait a minute while I clean up." Unwrapping the apron around her waist and throwing it on the counter, she tells Mike, "Prepare the sauce and leave it in the bowl. Add something special if you want since it's the last one we'll make for a while."

"Okay." Have fun, Mike thinks as the two leave the kitchen. Officially alone and knowing he won't be bothered due to the meeting with Faz and Foxy's tummy ache from ingesting too much pizza, relief hits him. It's the first time he's been alone since emerging from the closet. He can do anything he wants. The idea of taking a shower hits him, but the establishment doesn't have a shower or a bath.

The fire crackles. Staring at the dancing orange flames, Mike has a sudden thought. A crazy thought for anyone normal, but Mike wasn't the least bit ordinary. Making sure that the others are away and not lingering in the hallways, he approaches the flames and gradually brings his paws closer to the heat. They're centimeters away from the fire, but Mike can't feel any ounce of heat. As a young boy, he was only burned once while trying to heat up marshmallows for s'mores. It immediately hurt when he touched the flame.

This is nuts. I now can't feel the pain of fire. When he puts his right paw directly in the fire, he can't help but smile at the sound of sizzling and the lack of feeling. If only his parents could witness this! After six seconds Mike feels a sharp twinge. Another second brings this twinge into a stab of pain. The fire had burned through his suit, touching the endoskeleton inside. And damn, it 'hurt.'

Whipping his hand out of the fire and examining the charred color, he sighs. Now that he thinks about it, everything makes sense. When Freddy was crushing his hand, the pain started when the endoskeleton was under incredible strain. His suit had no feeling whatsoever. His endoskeleton held the sensitivity.

"Better start on the sauce." Leaving the fireplace and popping off the lid of the jar of flavoring, he gets to work. A peace settles over him as he gets into stirring the sauce in the bowl and adding certain amounts of flavoring. When Chica and Bonnie enter the kitchen, Mike's adding a secret touch to the sauce. With his charred hand he waves. "How did it go?"

"Mike, what happened?" Chica screeches loudly, running over to examine his hand. Beside her, Bonnie gawks at Mike's black fingers.

"I wasn't careful with the fire," Mike explains, attempting to hide his burned hand behind his back.

"What were you doing? I told you to make the sauce! That has nothing to do with the fire," Chica demands.

All eyes snap to the doorway as footsteps echo down the hallway. Fear enters Mike's chest as he imagines Freddy bursting in and demanding how Mike had gotten burned. What would he say in his defense? Freddy will know that something's up. Luckily, it's only Foxy.

"What happened?" he demands, entering the room and examining each of the animatronics from head to toe.

"Mike badly burned himself," Bonnie informs, holding up the burned paw.

"I'm fine. Seriously, you guys are blowing this out of proportion."

"What the hell are you saying? I would be freaking out if I was burned!" Bonnie gently touches the center of Mike's scorched paw. "Does it hurt?"

"Nope. Like I said, I'm perfectly fine. Stop worrying about me."

"We'll always worry about you." The room becomes quiet as Freddy enters, his eyes trained on Mike's hand. "Could I see?"

"No," Mike snaps, his usual hostility towards the bear replaced with panic.

"Hold out your hand. Now."

Holding it out, Mike winces as Freddy squeezes harshly. The levels of knowledge in his eyes frightens Mike. "If you drew your hand away from the fire immediately, it wouldn't have affected your endoskeleton," Freddy comments, an eyebrow quirked. There's no doubt about it. He knows, and Mike wants to sink into the floor.

The statement makes the other animatronics examine Mike with curiosity

"What ya sayin', Freddy? You're sayin' that he burned himself on purpose?" Foxy asks.

Immediately Freddy shakes his head. "No, I don't mean that. I was just making an observation. Please disregard it." Releasing Mike's paw, Freddy gives him an accusing stare.

Oh God, I'm in trouble.

"I need to talk to you. I've already talked to the others about this small problem we've been recently experiencing. So please, come with me." Freddy motions for the hallway and Mike dutifully follows, his stomach lurching. What will Freddy do once he knows the truth?

Very rarely does Mike feel anything other than anger in Freddy's presence, and this sudden terror in his gut makes him feel slightly ridiculous. Down the hallway and in the main hall, they climb onto the main stage and wander to the back where their "beds" lay. Two chairs are placed in the corner by Bonnie's bed. Beside the bed lays his guitar and Mike notices tiny, grimy fingerprints on the shiny paint.

Sitting down in a chair, Mike folds his arms.

"Before I start off with what I told the others, I want you to truthfully explain why you burned yourself. I will not accept any lies, either. Just the truth," Freddy commands, adjusting the cushion on his seat and sitting down.

Scratching an ear, Mike glances at the ground. Freddy waits patiently for an explanation. Why can he make Mike suddenly feel like a misbehaving child? "It's difficult to explain," he whispers.

"Then tell me. I'm certain I can help you through this." Freddy's voice sounds genuine, but Mike doesn't believe it.

"No you can't," he snaps, uncrossing his arms and glaring at him. "You wouldn't understand a damn thing."

"Is that what you think?" Freddy glances at Mike's burned hand, then back to his face. "I'd understand you perfectly because I went through the same exact experiences that you're currently going through. I was forced against my will to become an animatronic, and like you did with your arm, I tried everything to tear myself apart. Burning was the only way I could hurt myself, and there was a time when I liked the feel of fire. This was when I was recently changed, when my humanity was fighting against the endoskeleton. I could feel my humanity slipping away with every passing day, and hurting myself helped clear my mind of the terror I felt. Sometimes I wished that I had the courage to light myself on fire. I thought, 'I'd rather be dead than be an animatronic.'"

Swallowing nervously, Mike adds, "To clear things up, I didn't intentionally want to hurt myself. I'm not some crazed maniac that wants to hurt myself. I wanted to see if I could feel the fire. No matter what I did to myself, I couldn't feel anything. The only other time I felt pain was when you crushed my hand."

"Mike," Freddy says seriously, eyes grave, "I never want you to misuse fire like that ever again. You could damage yourself beyond repair if it goes out of control. Fire can kill us, and I don't want to worry that you'll "accidentally" burn yourself again.

If I want to die, all I have to do is set myself on fire. A pleased look crosses Mike's face at this certainty.

Watching Mike closely, Freddy notices this sudden change and his eyes narrow. "Don't you get the idea of setting yourself on fire stuck in your head. I won't allow it to happen."

"I'm not that desperate to escape this place." Yet.

"To make sure you don't do anything asinine, I will personally dispose of those matches myself."

"Go right ahead," Mike snorts. "I already know how to start a fire without using matches."

Freddy's eyes darken. "How do you expect me to trust you when you spew stuff like this? You're giving me more excuses to keep a closer an eye on you."

"I don't want you to trust me." Rolling his eyes, Mike wishes he was back in the kitchen. Oh wait, he can't cook anything because the dough's all gone.

"Besides that, there's something more serious I need to inform you about," Freddy continues, uneasiness entering his voice. "Today I've noticed the presence of several people milling around the pizzeria. They never made moves to enter, but merely walked around our building. They were wearing professional suits and one of them held a large piece of paper. They're gone now, and I knew that the others would want to see for themselves if I told them while they were here. I don't know what they're up to, but I want you to be cautious. That means staying away from the windows to divert being seen and not causing any kinds of ruckuses."

"What if I-"

"No what ifs," Freddy interrupts. "The others understand the severity of this situation and are doing as I tell them. I hope that you will, too, but in all honestly I'm not setting my expectations high."

"What the hell?" Mike pauses and his ear twitches. The seriousness in Freddy's eyes makes Mike uncomfortable. Not that being serious in general is bad, but being worried about by another isn't something Mike's used to, no less if it's an animatronic. "How do you know if what they're doing out there is bad or not? Maybe they want to remodel the place."

"But how can you explain this sudden activity?" Frowning, Freddy nervously clenches his fists. "I've been here since the day this place was shut down. No one has come close to this place except for you. Another reason why I knew you belonged here with us."

"Don't get started on that again," Mike snaps.

"Fine, but do you get the point? Why are rich businessmen suddenly interested in this place? I mean, look around!" Angrily, Freddy leaps out of his seat. Standing so the bear doesn't tower over him, Mike's not sure what to make of this entirely new side of him. "I worry about my family constantly. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to them. This building's important, too. This is the only place where we can live at. Those people outside today," Freddy suddenly grabs Mike shoulders, face terrified, "Were talking not about remodeling, but about tearing this place apart. By the way they said it, the remodeling process will be starting soon."

Mike doesn't shrug off Freddy's hands, appalled at this sudden behavior. Somehow, he knows that Freddy had been bottling up these feelings all throughout the day and needs a release. Not that Mike likes Freddy in the slightest, but he doesn't like seeing Freddy in this state. He'd rather Freddy be pissed off than worried.

"I'm so goddamn worried about all of you," Freddy continues. "I want us to remain as a family, and I know that won't be a reality if this place gets remodeled."

"Freddy, you could spin those plans any way you want to. Maybe they're remodeling this place for another Fazbear's Pizzeria. You never know, plans change. Right now they could be looking at other possible buildings to create their business."

"I'm sure that they were set on rebuilding here," Freddy mumbles. "They sounded quite serious while they were talking."

"How do you know what they were saying?" Mike asks irritably.

"I have excellent hearing."

"So?"

"I heard exactly what they were saying!"

"That doesn't mean anything. We can't assume things when they've been here for only one day. If they return tomorrow, then we'll have a better idea of what they're looking for."

"You won't be sticking your nose in it, either. Leave that to me," Freddy warns.

Shrugging off Freddy's hands, Mike says, "Whatever. Is that all you needed to tell me?"

Nodding, Freddy adds, "Please try to be cautious these next few days. We don't want anything out of the ordinary to happen. Already weird things have been happening to this place, and I don't want to add another incident to the list."

But Mike disregards those words, already strolling towards the hallway. His metal feet clink when he walks, his mind whirling at a brisk pace. Didn't Freddy know that whatever he tells Mike, he'll purposely do the opposite? Of course tomorrow he'll poke his nose into the plans for the rebuilding and the businessmen. And why did Freddy care so much after Mike had treated him like crap for the past four weeks? Shouldn't he hate him by now?

You might be acting all nice now, Freddy, but I remember when you pushed me into that suit like it happened yesterday. I'll always remember that you were the one that killed me and forced me into this life that I had never wanted. I'll escape from this place, and I'll escape from you.