A dark AU at what could've happened had Mike never gotten Jeremy out of his father's home. The song is my own creation, and I might upload it to my tumblr, which is under the same name as my fanfic account if you're interested. Enjoy!

Jeremy looked into the bathroom mirror and scowled. He hated his appearance, hated how it looked like he was a mix-match of characteristics between two parents, one dead and the other one dead inside. He glared at his eyes.

He hated his eyes.

He sighed, looking down at the small note he had written, the words he had written carefully thought and scrawled out. Freddy and the others wouldn't notice him gone before it was too late. He decided to do it at work because if he even tried it at home...no one would know the truth of why he would be gone. He looked away from the mirror, and in the corner of his eye, his reflection flickered to a towering man with a drunken scowl. He jumped.

No. I'm not like him.

He wondered if he'd see her again, or if this truly meant he was going to Hell. With a sigh, he took out his favorite razor, piece of mirror he's shattered by punching it. His hands had hurt for weeks after that, making preparing meals difficult. He sang a small tune under his breath.

"Poor little boy, beaten at home. Mother gone, all alone,

Poor little boy, tears he would cry, so now he waves sadly goodbye."

He had made it up himself in his spare time, hours of fear and boredom driving him to do what he could. With a deep breath, he plunged the sharp piece of glass into his eye, biting his lip to cut off the scream of agony he wanted to release. Blood poured down his face, and he ripped out the blade, hearing a sickening pop as his eye came out with it. He smiled, it was halfway done.

Just one more. Then it'll be over.

He could hear shuffling footsteps, and for a second was gripped by the fear of being caught, being stopped. He breathed a soft sigh as the footsteps became more distant. He raised the blade again, shoving into his other eye, hearing the sharp shink as it hit the soft tissue, his vision blurred red, until he pulled out the metal and his eye, everything going black. He giggled, laughing loud and cold, the sound echoing off the tile, before slipping on the floor, it being slick with blood, head hitting the ground hard. Finally, those eyes were gone, the eyes that reminded Jeremy of him, of bruises and pain and smashed beer bottles. He held the razor tightly in his hand, feeling the pieces of eye and blood on it. He was going to die. If the blood circling around his head and staining his hair was any indication. He wondered if anyone would care. Maybe one person would.

Sorry Mike.

It was the only thing he could say. The man had been kind, complimenting him and smiling softly at him. It would be a shame for him to have to see him dead on the floor. He sighed again, blood from his eyes pouring into his mouth, and fell out of consciousness.

5:00am

Mike walked in whistling, looking towards the stage and waving at the animatronics. He went over to the security office, only to find Jeremy wasn't there.

"Hey, you guy's seen Jere?" He called, only to get a chorus of no's. He sighed, walking to the backroom. Nope, not there.

Where could he be?

He looked in the kitchen, smiling at the smell of pizza, but found no Jeremy there either. He sighed, walking towards the bathrooms. He opened the door, and was hit with the stench of spilled blood.

Jeremy?!

He stumbled back, retching at the sight of Jeremy's fresh corpse laying on the ground, blood pooled around his tiny body, skin pale and cold. His brown hair, the hair that Mike loved to ruffle because it was so soft, now stained red, and his mouth was pulled into an eerie smile, something that shouldn't have been on his face. His hand gripped a piece of mirror, bloody and covered in bits of flesh.

Why...oh god why?

He walked into the bathroom, his stomach roiling at the smell and sight, and he looked at the empty eye sockets, black with red pouring out, looking like tears on Jeremy's cheeks. There was a note taped to one of the mirrors, and Mike grabbed it, sitting on his knees and hugging Jeremy's limp body to his chest, not even caring that it was staining his work shirt because Goddammit Jeremy was dead. He looked down at the note, the handwriting shaky with little music notes surrounding the text. Mike's tears hit the page as he read.

"Jeremy...I'm so sorry," he muttered, rocking back and forth, hearing the song in his head like a final lullaby.

'Poor little boy, beaten at home. Mother gone, all alone.

Poor little boy, tears he would cry, so now he waves sadly goodbye.

Poor little boy, lonely and sad. All of the pain, now he's gone ma~ad.

Poor little boy, was punched and smacked. He hated green eyes now they're black.

Poor little boy, no more pain. All of his strength, all in vain.

Poor little boy, took out a knife. Took out his eyes and his life.'