Peter tried to get himself awake- God, he felt tired… He had been expecting his head to hurt, but oddly it didn't That wasn't to say his stomach didn't ache, because it certainly did; he couldn't recall having ever thrown up last night.

What did happened last night?

He tried to piece it together, though soon found himself scrabbling to get to his feet. A blast of icy water had just struck him and soaked him.

AM I NOT WEARING PANTS?!

"What the fuck?!" Peter shouted; just as he was on his feet, he was soon back down on the ground, blasted straight into the mouth with a streak of water. He felt dirty- there was mud and grass everywhere.

He sputtered and gagged, heaving on all fours. He felt he was going to vomit, but it never came. Catching his breath, he was finally able to get his view clear and look up.

Peter's father loomed over him, a garden hose held in hand. He looked livid with anger. He had never seen the man look this way before.

"What in the hell do you think you were doing?" his father asked, his voice wispy as he struggled to keep from shouting.

Peter stared at him, panting. He couldn't answer.

No.

He didn't want to answer.

His father grew impatient and blasted him with the hose once more, drenching everything that hadn't already gotten soaked.

"Get inside. I'm not putting up with this today," his father grumbled, throwing the hose away as he started to stomp away.

Peter choked, shaking.

He wasn't cold.

"What the hell do you think I was doing?"

The man froze and turned.

"Excuse me?" the man stammered, his eyes clouded with rage and disbelief. "I am your father, you do not speak to me that way!"

"I'm twenty years old!" Peter shouted, getting once more to his feet. He felt numb. "And you've never been a father to me, Jeremy!"

The man looked stunned and did not come up with a response.

Peter took it upon himself to continue.

"Ever since I was born… You never hug me, you never kiss, me… You've never even said you loved me! Do you know what it's like to have to grow up like that?" Peter explained, his voice strained as tears began to spill down his cheeks. "Every time you look at me- I can feel how upset you get, how disappointed you get! And whenever you talk to me, you just yell and you don't listen to me!"

"I… I'm sorry… I never…" Jeremy started, but he didn't seem to know what to say. He trailed off and looked away.

"See?! You're doing it right now!" Peter shouted. He couldn't stop himself-

He smacked his dad.

Hard.

And he felt relieved about it.

Jeremy stood there in silence. Paralyzed. Tears welled and flowed from his eyes. He trembled, reaching to feel where his son had dealt him a respectable blow.

"I never meant to hurt you; I'm sorry," he forced out, breathing heavily as he tried to stop his crying. "I just… I-"

"Don't you fucking tell me you're sorry!" Peter huffed; his throat hurt. "How can you be sorry- How can you stand there and tell me that after they way you've neglected me- the way you've yelled at me, made me hate my own life, feel like I'm a fucking nuisance and unwanted and a mistake- How can you tell me you never meant to hurt me?" the boy hissed; he swung and punched his dad in the face.

Jeremy fell down, wincing as he clutched his cheek. He stared up at his child with hurt and resignation.

"How could you do that to me?! I was your only son, your only kid for fifteen years!" Peter shouted, pinning his dad to the ground; he punched him again.

"Justin always told me how lucky I was to have a dad!"

There was blood on his clothes.

"I told him how lucky he was to not have one at all!"

"I'm sorry…" Jeremy choked out. "I'm a terrible father- I'm sorry…"

Peter seized beating his father and clung to him, heaving as he shook and cried.

"I hate you," Peter whimpered, burying his face into his dad's chest. "I hate you so much…"

Jeremy hugged his son close to his chest.

Peter pushed him away and got up. He left Jeremy bleeding in the yard and went inside. He grabbed his car keys and ignored the screaming of his mother as she tried to piece together where all that blood had come from. He noticed Genevieve eyeing him from the stairs, Twitchy Jr. in hand; she made him wave farewell.

Peter waved back.

He got into his car and drove away.

^xx..oo..xx^

Peter didn't know if he wanted to go inside Ms. Schmidt's house. After what he had done the past few nights… He felt he was the last person she wanted to see. She might even call his parents and tell them he was here if they were trying to find him.

Or maybe they already think I'm here…

If that was the case, he needed to make his trip short. He didn't want to face them. He couldn't bear to.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the container of medicine. He shook it, trying to see how much was in it, but found it was empty. He would pay for Ms. Schmidt's refill-

Or… Wait…

Peter re-read the name on the prescription.

Princeton, Dana H

Who the hell is 'Dana Princeton'?!

Peter quickly scampered out of his car and rushed to the front door of the house. Still being a bloody mess, he rubbed some of the crusted and coagulated mess on her door as he entered. Immediately he was hit with the sweet aroma of a cake.

"Ms. Schmidt?" Peter called out.

There was a clattering of pans and out appeared a rather deranged version of the woman he considered a mother. Her hair was everywhere and knotted, clinging to the sweat accumulated on her forehead. Her calm, distant eyes were now clouded over and frenzied, much like that of a wild animal.

"Peter! Come here!" she cried before dashing off into the kitchen.

He reluctantly followed.

"Ms. Schmidt- Who's 'Dana Princeton'?" Peter asked; he gazed in awe over the fantastic cake the woman had prepared. It looked delicious- why she looked so ragged, however, was beyond him.

Ms. Schmidt froze in the middle of sticking a candle into the cake. She turned in defeat to look at Peter.

"That's… My maiden name," she replied, sticking in a few more candles.

"You were never married," Peter objected. He grabbed her wrists and turned her around to face him. She flinched when she saw all the blood on him. Her lip wibbled as she looked down.

"That's his uniform, you're wearing…" she whispered, looking up at Peter's name tag. She smiled weakly and tried to pull away from Peter's grip. "I'm… Making him a cake… For his birthday…"

"What-"

"A cake. For Mike. My Mr. Schmidt…" Ms. Schmidt explained. She seemed satisfied with her handiwork and proceeded to lift the cake up, offering it to Peter. "I would deliver it to him myself… But the last time I saw him… It didn't go so well, and… Justin happened…"

"Wait… Ms. Schmidt, did you kill Mike?" Justin gasped; he didn't think she would have, but…

"Me? Kill Mike? No," Ms. Schmidt replied, almost seemingly struck that he would suggest such a thing. She smiled and looked to the floor, twirling her hair slightly. "He died protecting me. It was romantic… No, it wasn't me. A ghost in one of those animatronics killed him."

"Animatronics?" Peter questioned.

"Your shift starts soon, Peter- I don't have time to tell you the story right now," Ms. Schmidt interjected, beginning to shove him out of her house. "And if you ever steal my medication again, I'll no-scope you into the next decade!"

^xx..oo..xx^

"Hello? Hello? Um, this is just a reminder of company policy concerning the safe room."

Peter was listening to music on his phone as he played the game. He was playing as a demented looking purple rabbit.

It's like a dream you try to remember

But it's gone

"The safe room is reserved for equipment and/or other property not being currently used and is in fact a safety location for employees only. This is not a break room, and should not be considered a place for employees to hide and/or congregate - and under no circumstance should a customer ever be taken into this room and out of the main show area."

While playing, Peter couldn't help but to think that his character might be the spirit of the corpse inside of Twitchy. He didn't believe in ghosts, but then again… He never doubted a word that came out of Ms. Schmidt's mouth, either. Maybe they were real?

Then you try to scream

But it only comes out as a yawn

"Management has also been made aware that the Spring Bonnie animatronic has been noticeably moved. We would like to remind employees that this costume is not safe to wear under any circumstances."

The purple rabbit could navigate through all the past games with ease; what was irksome was trying to get him outside of the screen so he could get the crying child his cake.

When you try to see the world

Beyond your front door

"Thank you and remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

Peter found success and successfully got the cake to the child before his Gameboy flickered and switched to the game inside.

He wasn't really in the mood to play Kirby's Pinball Land, though.

He pulled out a box of matches. He struck one and turned to the delectable cake that Ms. Schmidt had constructed for her late lover. As he had promised, he lit the candles.

Peter checked the visual monitor and spotted Twitchy in a vent, which he hastily closed.

And he waited.

He whistled.

He blocked his view from the Jiffy imposter.

He used the audio on CAM 05.

Waited some more.

Is something supposed to be happening?

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Mike. I got you a nice, big birthday cake," Peter sang nervously out into the hallway. He sighed when he got no response and slumped back into his chair. He grabbed the monitor again and went to check CAM 08; he was going to trigger the audio again, but the doll was there waiting for him.

Startled, Peter dropped the monitor and was met face to face, once again, with the doll.

"Please don't scream at me!" he pleaded, trying to shield his face with his hands.

"He's not here."

Peter peeked through his fingers. The doll was staring at him with pinprick eyes. It looked somewhat… Calm? He hesitantly brought himself to ease, noticing that it was flicking its gaze to the cake.

"What do you mean he's not here?" Peter asked.

"I mean Mike. He's not here. You came back here for nothing, as you did the nights previous, Jeremy," the doll replied.

"Jeremy is my dad; my name is Peter," he corrected. He was silent before offering, "Well… Since he's not here, do you want some of his cake?"

The doll stared at him.

"No. At least… Not until the other children are served," the doll answered, taking a seat on Peter's desk. "I'm sorry for scaring you before, then. I thought you were him. Jeremy, I mean."

"Oh…" Peter mumbled; he seemed down a second before smiling. "But I already did serve them. All five of them."

"I already told you, Mike is not here. No one has seen him for twenty years, not since the fire. If you have done as you are saying to me, then you have only served four of them. If it is true you have encountered a fifth child, then…" the doll explained before trailing off. It seemed pensive a moment before shrugging. "I don't know."

Peter blinked before quickly checking the monitor. Twitchy was getting closer; moving faster than he had been the previous nights. He rang the audio on CAM 04. Looking up, he saw the doll had lifted a candle and was staring intently at it, dangerously close to its face.

"You… Should be careful with that," Peter stammered; shouldn't it have left by now?

It snapped its attention towards Peter before placing the candle back into the cake.

The room grew quiet.

"Did you know my dad?"

"What?"

"Did you know my dad?" Peter repeated. "You said I looked like him…"

"No. Not personally, anyways," the doll replied.

"If… Um… Well, why were you trying to scare him away?" Peter asked.

The doll chuckled and kicked its legs .

"Let's just say, a long time ago in a time no one cares about, your daddy was a washed-up security guard just like yourself. He took care of me and the other animatronics as if we were his own children-"

"So not very well then?" Peter scoffed, crossing his arms with a frown.

"That may have been the case for you, but no; he treated us very well. He paid through his pocket to keep us in top shape; to keep us happy…" the doll explained. "In a way, we were his only family. When I say we, I'm excluding myself. I didn't much care for him."

"Same," Peter grumbled, sitting back in his chair and rolling his eyes. "When you knew him, was he always crying and and angry?"

"No," the doll answered, tilting its head in confusion. "No, he was not. If he is like that now, however… I presume it is because he still hasn't gotten over the fact that we are all dead. In fact, it might even explain how we are existent without a physical form. And also why I am not a human in this afterlife…"

"I'm confused- What are you talking about?" Peter questioned with the quirk of an eyebrow. This was getting deep.

"When one feels strong emotions for something that is gone, the item in question can manifest itself into a form such as the one I am in now. Your father is suffering a deep sadness, and from his wound he, in a way, brought us 'back to life'," the doll explained. "He didn't see us as the spirits we were, but rather as the animatronics we possessed. That is why when you see Fleur outside your window, it is Freddy and not a little girl…"

"Fleur? Who the heck is Fleur? What?" Peter stammered.

"I see. You do not understand. Ha, just like your father in appearance and personality," the doll giggled before getting up. It was on its way to exiting the room before it stopped and eyed the cake once more. It grabbed the goody and left, waving one of its spindly hands as it stalked away. "Good luck, Peter. Vincent has been wanting to get to meet you."

"Vincent? Who's Vincent?" Peter shouted after it, though he froze as soon as he poked his head out of the Office. Twitchy was directly down the hall. Peter flashed back into the room, though as he did so, he spotted the rabbit right outside the window, staring at him. The audio from CAM 01 went off.

The vent lights began to go off.

Peter was shaking. Bad. Why had he talked so long to the doll? It's not like he had learned anything interesting. In fact, everything he had learned, had only made him upset. His dad ruined his childhood mourning over robots. ROBOTS were more of a priority to his dad than his own son. Dear. Fucking. GOD.

He grabbed the maintenance panel.

A hand reached and grabbed it, throwing it at the ground and into the vent.

It was Twitchy.

Peter tried to scream and scramble away, but the rabbit had already lunged and grabbed him, lifting him a few feet off the ground by the color of his uniform- he couldn't touch the ground.

"No- God, please, no! Stop!" Peter shouted, kicking frantically in a futile attempt to break free. It was getting hot again in the room- He could smell the rotting corpse in the suit-

The mouth opened and revealed the body inside.

Peter screamed louder.

He couldn't get away.

"Y-you...'re s-stay-in-ing… H-here…"

"No! Put me down!"

"With… me… F-forever…"

Twitchy gave a hissing laugh of amusement at the boys peril. Even when he was dead, he always won.

Always.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: PUH-PUH-PUH-PLOT TWIST. HEYO. BET YA' DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING. I mean, maybe some of you saw it coming, I don't know. I gave a few hints in there. Oh well. Peter got shrekt.

Inhale.

Also, props to Barenaked Ladies on their song Pinch Me

~Admin LP