(Hi! IT's me! I just wanted to say that this chapter may contain bits that are not suitable for younger audiences as there are bits that contain gore)

Chapter 11

"Mmmph" murmured Carlisle, finally coming awake. His eyes opened by a sliver and he gazed around (and seeing nothing), forgetting for a moment where he was, before he remembered what had happened. He groaned as the pain as nausea hit him like a brick. In fact compared to what he was experiencing now, a brick would've seemed like a feather. He attempted to swing his legs off the bed, but soon realised this was a mistake as his head started to shriek in protest, telling him to rest before doing anything at all. His hand flew towards his head in a vain attempt to stop the pounding headache there, and failing dismally. He groaned again before lying back onto the bed, gently this time, and reaching up to massage his head. "Ow" he muttered to himself. A thought struck him, "what time is it?". He estimated that he had been out for about an hour or two….. "So if I lost consciousness at around 8:00, and stayed like that for an hour, then it should be about 9 right now. Good, I still have time" he said, mentally reviewing the things that had happened from then to now. He suddenly became aware of a burning feeling in his eyes, and out of instinct, went to touch them. His hand encountered thick bandages that feel like sandpaper, and smelling about the same. He wrinkled his nose at this, "ugh" he muttered, and called for Vincent to ask him for a update on what had happened, a second before regretting the decision.

Vincent came rushing upstairs, his feet like hammers as he went up three at a time. He ran into the room Carlisle was in, and was instantly by his side, asking if he was alright, what hurt and if he felt like vomiting. Carlisle winced at his barrage of questions and wished that he hadn't called him upstairs. Vincent seemed to sense this but couldn't stop himself as he fired question after question. Carlisle moaned at this before burying his head in the pillow. "How long am I going to stay like this?" asked Carlisle, his words muffled by the pillow. Vincent hesitated for the first time before answering "few days probably, but that's not the topic right now. How are you feeling?! Do you feel any sort of nausea or pain?!" Vincent's voice rose as he grew more frantic, trying to detect what pains he was feeling. Carlisle rolled his eyes at what he considered to be excessive caution and brushed him off. "I'm alright, I…..I don't feel too much….." he trailed off, knowing that Vincent would see though his words, and he did. "Just tell me won't you? It may make you feel better". Carlisle whined into the pillow, still wanting him to go away. Vincent sighed at his uncooperative attitude and instead contented himself with pacing. Carlisle rolled his eyes at this before promptly falling back asleep.

Saturday

Carlisle's eye had healed by now, and was back at the pizzeria, catching up on what he'd missed, and that meant Vincent had some free time to himself, since he doesn't work on Saturdays and Sundays. Having nothing else to do, he went online to order more carbon dioxide from the science centre, after all, at the rate Mark, Alexis and Carlisle were going, he was going to run out soon. After that was done, he proceeded with the usual grind of the day, chores and etcetera. That took up most of his time, and by the time that he had finished, it was 8 pm, which didn't leave a lot of time or options for recreation. Vincent decided to recharge (sleep) early since there was nothing else he could do. Like Carlisle, he soon regretted the decision soon after.

Vincent dreamt that he was in the pizzeria, walking down the hall towards a safe room that didn't exist, repeatedly glancing over his shoulder as if he was nervous of something when he saw Mark. Normally, that would be nothing special since it wouldn't have been the first time he saw him, but for some reason, the sight made him panic. He ran down the hall into the safe room, and grabbed his knife that he used to always carry. He didn't understand why he felt the instinctive need to defend himself, but he did, and that was enough to compel his unwilling muscles to cooperate. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, trying to calm his nerves when he saw Mark and the others enter, a dark gleam in their eyes. Vincent had never seen him like this except for the incident in Freddy Fazbear's Pizza when he stuffed him into a suit. He felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he realised what was about to happen.

"Mark? What happened? Why are you like this?" he said, or at least, he thought he said. The words came out differently to the effect of "I got rid of you already! How are you still here?!" Vincent bit off the sentences following what he had just said; horrified at the words that were his own and yet, were not at the same time. Mark smiled gleefully, in the way a predator would feel as he cornered his prey. "You thought it would be easy? You thought we were going to stand idly and let you get away with the crimes you've committed?!" Vincent desperately wanted Mark to rethink his decisions before something very bad happened. "S-Stay away!" he said, in a voice that sounded strangely apart to his ears. Vincent went to raise his hands in a placating gesture, but what happened instead was something that he would've never done. He swiped at them with his knife. Mark stepped back, easily avoiding the clumsy, half-hearted blow and proceeded to have the others advance on him. Vincent glanced at the Spring Bonnie suit that was lying in a corner, still new and without bloodstains, and felt that it could protect him, thought he was unsure why. He started to move towards it, but, with an enormous effort, halted his pace and turned around to face Mark. He knew what was going to happen, knew what was in store, so there was no point in fighting it. What he didn't understand was the difference between now and a few years ago. There was a sixth spirit standing apart from the others that he didn't recognise. He had no time to ponder it however as Mark grew impatient with his stalling and forcefully shoved him into the suit. Vincent snapped back into reality and went to struggle against his hold, stopping just in time for him to remember that if he kept fidgeting like this, the springs would go off. However, this didn't stop Mark from pulling a lever that was hidden from plain sight and setting the springs off. The result was excruciating. Vincent cried out in pain as the springlocks forced their way into his body, tearing muscles and tissues. His legs gave way under him and he fell to the floor, full length as the springs continued to dig into him, creating a bloody mess on the floor. A part of him wondered if this was how other Vincent felt, but that part was overruled by the agony that stemmed from the wounds. His sight started to blur; not in the way his robotic eyes had, but in the way a normal human's eyes would've, with the edges of his sight going black. He felt consciousness slowly seep away as he lay there at the sprits nonexistent mercy. "Shoot, he's going to lose consciousness, hand me the adrenalin." said Mark, his voice sounding annoyed, like as if someone had just broke a expensive cup. Alexis handed him a syringe which he promptly stabbed into him. The effect was instantaneous. Vincent's eyes shot open as his heart rate accelerated, the pain redoubling. He bit his lips to keep the scream of torment from being too loud, as there was no way of stopping it as the pain became unbearable. "Where's the salt and bleach? I saw some in the kitchen and supply room" called Alexis offhandedly. "Salt? Bleach?" thought Vincent as he saw with his fading vision Carlisle and Chica run off in different directions, returning shortly with the items Alexis was missing. Vincent muffled his cry in the arms of the suit as the salt was placed onto the spring wounds and as the bleach was injected. Injected. By now, there wasn't a single thought in his mind that wasn't preoccupied with the pain. It was all he could think of as he gradually went limp; his movements become ever more fragile and meaningless. He felt darkness overwriting his mind, felt the relief of unconsciousness gradually creeping up on him, but at that moment, he knew he had to leave some vestige of forgiveness for Mark, some sign that he wasn't holding a grudge for what he was doing because Mark, at heart, was a kind and loyal friend to his family. As he turned his head feebly towards Mark, he said, almost inaudibly, "I forgive you" He felt, rather that saw Mark flinch at this, a second before he seemed to come to his senses, the dark gleam gone from his eyes. He saw tears form on his face as he realised in horror what he had just done before smiling again, the gleam back. "Laughable" he said in a purr before grabbing his knife and stabbing.

Vincent woke up, his head hammering at the recent nightmare. He glanced at the time. 6:00 He let out a long sigh as he got up silently, not wanting to believe what he had just witnessed. "It was just a dream" he told himself "Just a dream" He stayed like this for another ten minuets before getting out of bed and dressing in his uniform, preparing for work, even thought he didn't have to and even though Scott won't pay him overtime like the other employee. He laughed at the thought.

"So, do you still care for him? After what hes done?"

"Yes, I do. Mark didn't do anything wrong. He had full right to inflict pain on me if it eased his own torment."

I'll never understand you, I'd be looking for my own vengeance by now."

"That's why Scott trusts me more than you"

"He doesn't trust you more, he just likes you more."

"The kids trust me more"

"The kids don't know you"

"You don't either"

"Heh, if you prefer."

"Keep your hands off from my dreams from now on y'hear?"

"I can't promise that."

"Try"

"Hah, that's hilarious, why didn't you become a comedian"

"Look, if you can't stop yourself, at least stay out of the kid's dreams."

"That's okay for me"