Chapter 10" Through a killers eyes
Hello everyone! It's me! I am finally back from the dead. I gotta tell ya, climbing out of hell with two toothbrushes, not an easy feat. But in all seriousness, this chapter was a major bitch to write. I kept switching from one thing to the next, and I never could make up my mind, until this came about. Hope you enjoy! Also, me no own FNaF. Scotty do.
James watched Mike leave with the eyes of a hawk. He had been watching him for some time now, and to see him leave the pizzeria was an odd sight in the least. However, the place was closed for the day, most likely due to the gift he left for Mike and the kids. How he wished he could have seen their reactions. Their faces of sorrow and horror were probably priceless. He smirked just thinking about it. He watched as Mike walked down the street and turned the corner, out of his vision. He began to follow from his place across the street when he saw something that made him freeze.
It was a small boy with his father, walking down the sidewalk across from him. He couldn't take his eyes off of them. It was like someone superglued his attention onto them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take it off of them. Why? Why these people? He didn't feel his usual bloodlust, so he wasn't in the mood to murder, so why was he watching them? Then something else caught his attention. It was an odd feeling on his face. He reached up to touch it, and saw he was crying.
Why was he crying? He had never cried before…At least, he didn't think he did. The feeling felt familiar somehow. Very familiar. It was probably just his imagination. But then again, if it were, he wouldn't be physically reacting to it. Why, why, why? The question was frustrating James to no end, and he was about to lose it when he felt something. Something he hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. He was scared of what he was trying to remember. Why? What could it be to make him, of all people, scared?
His father…It was starting to come back to him now…It was his father he remembered. The father who had given him life. The father who tried to snuff it out. His father hated him, and he regularly beat James until he felt content or his arm got tired. How James survived is a question not even he himself could answer. The man was religious, yet an alcoholic. He called James a demon, a curse upon this world. His mother was the only one to show him compassion, and she died eight years after James was born.
His father blamed him for her death, and kicked him out in a freezing December storm. Luckily, a person was kind enough to take him to a local orphanage, where James thought he could escape the brutal persecution. He didn't. If anything, it was just as bad. His purple skin made him a target for every type of hateful comment. Even some of the adults joined in on these barrages of hate upon him. James wanted to stop remembering. He wanted it to stop, yet it kept going, despite his pleas.
It never got better for him. School was terrible, as he was a prime target for every bully there. However, it got slightly better when James got into college and met his roommate. His name was Jeremy Fitzgerald. James felt himself smile at the mere remembrance of his name. At the time that they met, James had taken a job at a local pizzeria called "Freddy Fazbears". It was a wondrous place, at least he first thought. He had the dayshift, a job he didn't mind. He got to have free pizzas, watch the animatronic shows, and even enjoyed the kids.
However, that all changed one day when he got a call from his father. His father was on his deathbed, and he had called James to tell him something. James hoped his father realized his errors, and regretted everything, and he called to apologize. That was far from what really happened. His father said he was right about him, said he would show his true demonic nature someday soon, and his father would watch him in heaven with shame. When the call ended, something snapped in James, and everyone noticed it. He grew more distant, he started to dislike the children, and even avoided Jeremy.
His head at the time was in shambles. His father's last words were to tell him what he had told him all his life. His father wanted it. He wanted James to be a demon. Yes, that was it. He wanted to see his true colors? He would show them. He would show EVERYONE what he was capable of. And the perfect night had come. His boss asked him to watch a birthday party that would be a late one. The night guard would be there later, he said, so he should keep an eye out for him. When he got there, he went to a back room he found previously which held a rugged golden bunny and a Golden bear. He put the Golden Freddy one on and proceeded his course of action. The murder of the five children.
What he hadn't realized was Jeremy saw the whole thing. He had called in Fritz Smith, a previous guard to assist him with a slight problem with the tablet. Fritz went to investigate, and was knocked out. Jeremy saw James leave, oddly casual. He went to investigate and saw the aftermath. He was the one who called the cops afterwards. James' shirt was on Fritz, and soon all the evidence began mounting up against the poor guard until it was too late. That night, Jeremy returned to the apartment to find James breaking down.
He regretted everything. He killed five innocent children, and now an innocent man was going to die because of him. Jeremy pleaded him to go and confess instead of calling the cops himself. If he did, perhaps everything would've worked out in the end. The next day, James called the authorities and told him he had evidence they missed, and to meet him at the pizzeria. As soon as James walked in, Foxy ripped his frontal lobe out. Everything fell apart afterwards. With James in a critical state, the Judge had to go with the death penalty, and Fritz was executed.
When James woke up, he was a changed man. Any remorse or sanity he had in him was torn out along with the front of his brain. All that was left was a hollowed shell who remembered the one thing from the murder James wanted to forget. The exhilaration. He enjoyed the feeling, and he wanted more. It all led up to this. This current moment. Finally the memories stopped flashing before James' eyes, and he could think clearly. He saw that the father and son were long gone, as was Mike. James held his forehead. All of those things, he never could remember after the incident, but now it was all pieced together, like a twisted jigsaw puzzle. James smiled. Foxy did him good. He was weak before, always regretting, always good. Now he could show his true colors, like his father always wanted. The colors of a demon. He chuckled. "I'll see you in hell, pops. Thanks for helping me find my true calling. My true color." And with that, he walked away, plotting his next move.
A/N: This chapter did take a while, which was why it took so long to get his chapter out. So yeah. Apologies, but hey. I had fun writing from the villain's perspective, and now you all know James' brutal past. He never just up and wanted to kill. No, there was a drive behind it, and now you guys know. This was just to get some insight on him. Now, thank you to Dracoessa for your comment chain (glad you like it), TheWaffleMaker, who is most certainly dead due to lack of oxygen, Callan (You can do anything if thoughst believe), fanakatsuki, venomousbook38, ANonnaMouse (love the username), and chipmunkfanatic. You guys are the best. Now, I must go. Future shit to write. Also, might do that Ask thing, still considering it. Eh, who knows. See ya on the next episode...er, uh, CHAPTER, of Seeing Purple! *Some heroic music*