Hello. This is the seventh chapter. Sorry that this chapter took so long, but that's because I've been experiencing a bit of writer's block, which led me to working on and off on this chapter and rewriting entire sections several times. However, this is the final draft of it. I hope you like it.

Reviews:

dmitty17: Wow. I don't know what to say about this chapter, but you really did something. It felt a little rushed, honestly, but still, it was an amazing chapter. However, Mark and Clay coming to the conclusion that the animatronics are hunting them down probably shouldn't be in this chapter, but maybe that's just me. Still, keep going!

I personally think the realization is fine for it to be in the last chapter, it's not as if a million things happened in that chapter.

"Charlie!"

She finally awakened after what felt like ages. Charlie slowly opened her eyes, attempting to adjust to the light. She was no longer in the dimly-lit kitchen of Fredbear's Family Diner, or even in Fredbear's at all—she was inside a parking lot, laying down on a bench. She groaned, sitting up and looking forward. As it turned out, the bright light wasn't coming from the sun, but rather, a series of bright white lamps that illuminated the sidewalk and the lot.

Then, she remembered what happened. I'm alive, she thought, and it was the first thing that she thought after collecting her bearings. She remembered that she had found herself in the past—1983 to be exact, and she walked through the rain until she found herself at Fredbear's—the original one that her father owned while he was still alive. And then, the last thing she ever expected to happen took place: she met herself. Well, not herself from the past, but the real Charlie, the one that was a human being, the one that William Afton murdered.

And indeed, she did see that too. No matter how much she tried, the same event took place: the dark shadowy figure that was likely Afton kidnapped the other Charlie, stuffed her into an animatronic suit, and triggered the springlocks, as evidenced by the loud crackling noise coming from the kitchen, and then, he opened the suit again and dumped the lifeless corpse onto the cutting table and ran away with the animatronic suit, but not before stabbing Charlie in the chest. When her father came, Afton was long gone.

At first, she didn't understand why she witnessed those events. If it were a reflection of her father's pain of losing his actual daughter, then she would have witnessed it from her father's perspective, but she didn't. She instead witnessed it from the perspective of someone who followed her dead twin all the way to death, the perspective of an omniscient onlooker. Perhaps it was an echo of the past, but if so, why did touching the counter trigger it? And why her?

She looked down at her chest, half-expecting to find a knife embedded deep inside her, or at the very least, a deep cut in her chest, but there was truly nothing there, just her chest. There were no holes in the fabric that her tee-shirt was made of, and there was no blood. In response to this realization, Charlie began tearing up at the eyes.

"Charlie?" the voice asked. This time, it was much closer. She immediately recognized who it belonged to: John. "Charlie, what's going on? Are you okay?" he asked again, his eyebrows drawing together. He looked into her eyes, searching for anything that might give an answer to his question as he waited for her to respond, but all he found was a kind of pain that he had only seen in her eyes once before: when he and Charlie were going through the things that belonged to Aunt Jen, and Charlie stumbled across the letter that was written by her father which confirmed the remark by William Afton, that he didn't take Sammy, but instead, Charlie. Neither of them understood what that meant, but Charlie had a confused and terrified pain to her, one that he saw in her eyes right now.

Charlie didn't say anything at all, only groaning as she peered back into his eyes. She pinched her mouth shut and she tried to wipe her tears away. Her shoulders hung down limply, and she winced. The tears still kept coming, even after she wiped them away. She felt her heart pound heavily against her chest. She was happy that she survived the encounter, but she was also upset, and bitterly terrified of what that could have meant for her. The entire experience was shocking, and she wasn't able to even handle herself over it. She simply got up on her feet and ran over to John, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tight, pulling him into a warm embrace. She pointed her face downward, sobbing into his shoulder. John pulled back in confusion, but after a few seconds, he just hugged her back, pulling her close.

"There there," he said. "It's going to be alright. Whatever happened back there, it's over. You're here now," he said to try to calm her down. He lifted his hand up so it was pressing beneath her shoulder, where one's pulse can be felt, and it was hard and fast. He could only assume that she had a quick heartbeat and that she was scared.

Charlie just continued sobbing into his shoulder for whole minutes, and while she was somewhat sad, she was also happy—happy that she was alive. She eventually let go of him and pulled away, and John let go of her too. She backed away, looking into his eyes, and she frowned, ashamed of herself for doing that. Her cheeks burned, and in response, she pressed her palms against her cheeks. She looked away, not being able to look into his eyes anymore. "Sorry about that," she just said.

"It's okay," John said, a faint smile appearing on his face. He walked close to Charlie and raised his hand to her face, and he wiped away the tear stains on her face. "It's okay, you don't need to be ashamed," he said. "Whatever happened back there, it must have been terrifying for you," he said, finally acknowledging his findings. "You were scared."

Charlie just nodded blankly, still unable to meet his eyes. She took a deep breath, regaining her composure and trying to pull herself together. She tried her best to get rid of the sniffles that came with them. She turned to finally face John, her eyes still red, but she could manage to face him in the eye now. "Yeah, I was scared," she said, but she choked on her words as tears threatened to form in her eyes. John leaned closer to her, placing a hand over her shoulder, and she smiled, swallowing hard before she spoke again, knowing that what she would say may bring tears.

"I thought I was dead," Charlie said blankly, though her voice cracked again, shifting to a lower pitch at the end. And then, tears formed in her eyes. She squeezed them tight, able to stop them from falling. John held her hand tightly, tilting his head, giving her a concerned look.

"Charlie..." he began, taking a deep breath before sighing. "What even happened back there? Did you see something after you passed out? I mean, you stared at that counter for a long time. Was there something you noticed about it? Did it seem... familiar?" he asked. He was half-expecting her to not be able to give an answer, and indeed, that was the case.

She began lightly chewing on the inside of her cheeks, looking past him and at a random subject—a lamp, a tree, anything. She then bit her lips, before finally giving him an inward gaze. "Yeah... I saw something," she said. She felt her chest begin to tighten as she spoke, an aura of fear surrounding her. "I really want to tell you, but I can't," she said, giving John a look that he very well remembered. She held her stomach as though it was in pain. Her shoulders curled forward, caving her chest inward.

Then, John recalled the last time he saw Charlie like this. It was last year, in the aftermath of the confrontation between Charlie and Elizabeth. Charlie had been victorious, luring Elizabeth into the storage closet in Aunt Jen's house and using the machine Henry used to commit suicide to stab Elizabeth in the chest. He was awake several hours after that, having been wounded badly by Elizabeth, resulting in his legs becoming paralyzed for a month and a half.

"John!" he heard a voice cry out from the hallway. John quickly swung around, rolling the chair he was on into the living room. He then grappled onto a piece of heavy furniture and then swung himself forward, sending the chair rolling at a fast speed into the hallway in which Charlie was kneeling. He got off the chair, falling onto his knees.

"John..." Charlie began, staring into his eyes with clear sadness. John tilted his head in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but he paused, choosing his words carefully. He scooted closer to her, clawing the floor to pull himself closer to her, placing a hand on her cold cheek. Charlie smiled.

"Charlie?" he initially asked, a tone of worry to his voice. "Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost, which is odd for someone who has actually seen ghosts," he said. Charlie chuckled a little, but in just a few seconds, her expression turned grim again.

"I'm fine," Charlie said, swallowing hard. Her face looked exactly the same as it did in the parking lot—cold, afraid, and full of shame. He couldn't understand it, but he knew that something was wrong.

"Charlie..." John began. "I know that look. You aren't okay, and you and I both know it." Charlie remained silent, unable and unwilling to answer him. She just stared down the hallway. Tears began rolling down her face, and after a few seconds, her entire collar was drenched. He placed a hand over her shoulder, and she wiped her tears away, looking up and making eye contact with him.

"You aren't okay," John said. Charlie stood still, not immediately answering him. Charlie's hands began shaking, her muscles tightening. John leaned in closer. "Charlie, you're never like this. What's going on?" he asked worriedly. "Are you sick? Are you hurt?" He reached forward, gently pulling her head into his arm and rubbing her shoulders, trying to warm her.

"Don't worry about me, John," Charlie answered. Her words were short and clipped, cold. His face fell slightly.

"Is everything alright?" he questioned again. Charlie sighed, pushing his arm away from her shoulders.

"Everything is fine," she replied quickly, though her voice remained icy.

"Then what?" John pressed on. Charlie shook her head lightly. "If you're sure..."

Charlie nodded. "Yes, I am fine, John. Please, just leave me alone..." she said. Her answer had a tint of fear—and sadness to it. It has been years since Charlie has had an emotional breakdown like that, and it had John very worried.

"No you aren't," he said, shaking his head. "Charlie, you are never like this. Please, just tell me what's going on. I'm your friend, remember? Whatever is going on, it's okay if you tell me," he said. Tears rolled down her face again. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, but the tears continued to stream down her face. She quickly turned to the side, where John stood. She leaned in, throwing her arms around him.

She hugged him tightly, squeezing her eyes closed in fear. Then Charlie broke down sobbing onto his shoulder. Her body shook violently as she held onto John, sobbing into his shirt. She buried her face in the fabric, gripping onto him. "Please... please don't leave me," she sobbed. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

"Charlie, I won't leave you," John said calmly. Charlie gripped harder onto John. He wrapped his arms tighter around her. "I won't leave you... I promise."

After that had happened, Charlie was a lot more reclusive, sometimes refusing to answer basic questions. However, she did slip her tongue. After the two let go of each other, John asked Charlie what her emotional breakdown was even about, to which she just said that he wouldn't understand. After a while, she just told him that the breakdown was over the fear of her death in the encounter, however, John knew that there was much more to that.

He learned to just stop asking, knowing that it wouldn't get him anywhere, however, this felt like a repeat to him. "Charlie, please. If you saw something, it might be important. Maybe the restaurant is haunted. Maybe a ghost is trying to tell you something, maybe. To understand what is going on, we first need an idea of what you saw," he said. Though he expected his words to somewhat calm her down or bring her closer to answering him, this instead seemed to terrify her. She clutched her arms to her chest, bending her neck down yet still facing John. Her face turned pale, and both her chin and lips trembled, her hands shaking.

Charlie was truly terrified of the possibility that the real Charlie that William Afton had killed was not only in the park, but also that she was aware of her presence, so much so that she tried communicating with her. Charlie felt nothing but fear and shame from this. She knew that the real Charlie would hate her, or at the very least, envy her. Her entire body shivered, and John came closer, squeezing her shoulders tight. Charlie sighed, finally having the courage to answer.

"I went back in time," Charlie said. The aura of dread grew stronger around her. "I found myself outside of Fredbear's, but it was the first one. There was no park around it, just a forest." She then swallowed hard. "Eventually, I found out that the date was 1983," she said.

"1983?" John asked in surprise. "You were just a toddler then," he said, leaning forward. He let go of her shoulders, and they drooped. Charlie simply nodded. John tried to think of any importance that date had, but he only stumbled across one: Sammy. Sammy was taken away in 1983, and it led to his father committing suicide years later.

"Yeah, I know," Charlie said. She felt her chest tighten as she spoke out, each time she knew she was lying. "And I saw myself, as a toddler," she finally said. She felt as if she just dropped a heavyweight on the ground, but then, the cloud of fear surrounded her again, as she knew that she would have to explain her death. She then shook her head. "I talked to her. And then, I saw this dark purple shadow figure grab her and take her away, inside the restaurant. When I finally ran inside, I found a black-colored Freddy hunched over on the table in the middle of the kitchen, with blood leaking out from the animatronic's joints, eyes, and mouth. The shadowy man just giggled before opening the animatronic suit up and taking the corpse out. Then," she began, swallowing hard and fighting the urge to vomit." He mutilated it. He then stabbed me in the chest with his knife and ran off before my father came in, ignoring me and seeing the toddler me, mutilated on the table," she said. By now, she was shivering in her entire body.

"Oh,' John said. He didn't know how to react to it. He understood why she was so scared in the first place: she was stabbed to death, and she was surprised that she was still alive. However, just like last year, he felt as if she was hiding something. He didn't understand what that was supposed to mean, but he knew for a fact that she was hiding something, and that it somehow related to the events of last year. He just sighed. "I don't understand why you saw yourself get killed. You're right here. You're alive, right?" he asked. Charlie clasped his hand as he said that. "Right?"

Charlie sighed, looking off to the side at another bench. For the first time ever, she was unable to say for certain to anyone. She wasn't able to lie about it, as if her mind wouldn't permit it anymore. "I don't even know anymore," she said. "I mean, the letter from my father said that I was dead, but he also said that he saw me a lot, but that he only saw pain... what's the deal with that?"

"I don't know, maybe you're not his only daughter named Charlie?" he asked. "I mean, it's possible that William Afton killed his daughter and he just adopted a little girl that was also named Charlie," John suggested. Though this was the most reasonable and realistic explanation for it that he had come up with, it didn't feel right or normal. It didn't explain the supposed illusion discs that her father had placed all over the house, and there were so many other things that hadn't been answered yet. He just shook his head. "No, I don't even believe that either."

Charlie just swallowed hard. "So what do you believe?" she asked fearfully. She didn't want him to know the truth, but at the same time, she wanted to know if he knew in the first place.

"I don't know." John glanced back to the park, and then he faced Charlie. He certainly had some suspicions, for sure. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the events of last year more clearly. He was in Aunt Jen's house. He recently broke his legs, so he was unable to walk—he had been using an office chair to move about.

"I think it's time we go to the hospital." Charlie pushed the chair John was sitting on into the dining room. The front door was by the dining room. Charlie helped John get up from the chair by lifting him up from below the arms. Then, she threw him over her shoulder, and joined his right hand with his right knee, keeping his balance.

"This isn't comfortable at all. I feel like my muscles are being bent backward," he complained. Charlie took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping outside.

"They aren't, it's just your imagination. Come on, we don't have all day." She closed the door behind her and walked down the concrete steps, and then, she finally stepped on the grass. She began to walk down the hill, feeling a breeze hit her, making her stumble forward slightly, but she corrected her posture. After around a minute, she was at the base of the hill, and John's car was in sight, at least twenty yards away.

"Are we there yet?" John asked, becoming increasingly more uncomfortable and impatient.

"Yes," Charlie said as she approached the car. She tried the passenger door, but it was locked. "Where are the keys?"

"In my front pocket on the right," John said. "The dark gray one." Charlie didn't say anything else, she just went through his pocket until she found his keys. She took out the keys and sifted through each of them, singling out the darkest one and using it to unlock the car. Then, she opened the passenger door and sat him down in the passenger seat.

"Are you more comfortable now?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, by a thousand times," John said as he stretched his arms out. Before he closed the door on his side, he turned to face Aunt Jen's house. "Hey, there were some papers in that house that seemed pretty important. You might want to check those out," he suggested. Then, he closed the door. Before Charlie could see him, he opened up the glove compartment and stuffed a file folder inside, full of several documents, letters, and papers he found in Aunt Jen's office. Then, he closed it again.

Charlie opened the driver's door and slipped into the seat. "We could always come back. It's not like the evidence is gonna disappear."

"And what about Elizabeth? What if there is a chance that she is still alive? We can't take any chances. If I were you, I would tie her up and lock her up in the trunk."

Charlie sighed but nodded in agreement. "You're right. We can't take any chances." She then stepped out of the car and began scaling the hill again. John turned back to the glove compartment, opening it and taking the file folder out. He took the first paper and realized what it was: the letter that Charlie found, written by Henry and addressed to Aunt Jen:

My Dearest Jenny,

I had an entire list of instructions written out for you; schedules and timetables, keys and procedures. You have indulged me so much, and it's only now, at the end, that I see how it has helped me get through these dark times, but also how ultimately empty it has been. I had everything so carefully planned; I've worked so tirelessly. I've warped and twisted my surroundings to the point where I can never be sure if I've completely settled back into reality, and even if I did manage to turn off everything planted in the walls to deceive myself, I think my mind would deceive me still. I don't need clinical testing of the long-term effects of these devices to know that I've undoubtedly done permanent damage to myself. I will always see what I want to see, but worse than that, there is the splinter, more like the stake, always deep into my heart reminding me more and more every day that what I see is a lie. Through your patience and your indulgence of me, you've tried to keep me happy, but it's also somehow brought me back from this world I've made for myself. I think maybe it would have been better for you to have not indulged me; then I could have excluded you from my bubble, convinced myself that you were crazy like everyone else. But instead, your unceasing love caused me to listen to you, to let you in, and the consequence of that was seeing the truth in your eyes, and letting that in as well.

I have my Charlie here with me. You will never have to indulge me in her again. Rather than taking joy in her, I have cried over her, so many countless tears. I have poured agony into her, until she serves as another reminder not of what I once had, but of the unbearable pain of what was taken from me. She has come to reflect my pain back to me; whereas I, for a time, took great comfort in her eyes, I now only see loss, endless, debilitating loss. Her eyes will never fill me again. In fact, they have emptied me.

Keep all the closets shut. Let them be tombs for my denial and my grievance. My only lasting instruction for you concerns the fourth closet. It is not enough to keep it shut, you must keep that one sealed and buried. My grief was already beginning to waken me to reality when I began what was to be her final stage. When I rose, slightly, from the depth of my despair, I saw that I had no choice but to cease my work, for I was only feeding my own delusion. My old faithful partner, who I can only hope now is in a grave of his own, took what I had begun, and made something of his own—something dreadful. He crafted my beloved work into something of his own, and endowed it with who knows what kinds of evil. I was able to stop him, and to seal away what he made, and you, Jenny, must ensure that the seal remains.

I would instruct you to demolish the house if I could trust that it could be done effectively. Keep it, and make sure the world forgets it. Then, someday, after many decades have passed and no one remembers, fill it with every kind of flammable thing and burn it to the ground, standing close guard to put a bullet into anything that emerges from the rubble, no matter what, or who, it looks like.

I'm going to be with my daughter.

Love always & to the end, Henry

John shook his head. He had read the letter several times, but he couldn't draw any conclusions from it. Henry said he would be with his daughter, almost as if he was about to kill himself. But Charlie isn't dead, I've been with her this entire time! He looked down. This one thing has been nagging him for a while, but he couldn't figure out how to solve herself said that she wasn't dead, and that was before Elizabeth showed up.

Then, something else hit him.When Charlie asked William Afton why he took Sammy, he responded with: "I didn't take Sammy. I took you." Perhaps Charlie died but was brought back to life?And what's with all the things that were planted in the walls? Are they illusion disks? And why did Henry only see loss in Charlie?

But then, he stumbled upon the thought that he never thought he would think, the one thought he dreaded he would indulge in: Is Charlie even real? Is she just a robot? At first, he shrugged this thought off.No. For god's sake, she has skin. She can eat. She can do anything a normal human can do. How could she be a robot and do all these things?

However, the evidence began lining up in his mind. Charlie's appearance hasn't changed in two years. It became so blatantly obvious to her that she wasn't aging that she changed her hairstyle. And then of course there is her photographic memory and the gaps in her head. He sighed, not able to discern between what was real and what was his imagination. I'm probably just overreacting, he thought to himself as he put the letter back inside the folder and stuffed it back into the glove compartment. However, the thoughts nagged at her mind, like zombies scratching at a door with their claws. Given enough time, they would tear through. I just wish her aunt wasn't dead; I have so many questions, and so little answers.

John felt a vibration as he heard the trunk open up. He slammed the glove compartment shut and turned around, seeing Charlie. She placed the faceless and featureless animatronic down into the trunk, making a loud bang noise. The animatronic had a rope tied around it, keeping it locked in the fetal position. "There, she's secured. Let's get you to the hospital now."

"Okay," John said as she stared at her and her features. He hadn't noticed it before, but her appearance seemed dull—it wasn't as bright as he would expect. However, it was still her. John sighed as he lay back in the chair, buckling up. Charlie closed the trunk and slipped into the driver's seat, closing the door behind her and belting in.

John opened his eyes again. He had always remembered this experience, even after Charlie left for college in St. Louis, mainly because it intrigued him so much. He knew that something was wrong with Charlie—very wrong, and while the theory about her being a robot made sense at first glance, it quickly fell apart once he took into consideration the bodily functions.

He then met Charlie's gaze. He sighed. "Look, I really don't know what to believe. But I just want to be honest with you," he began, straightening his posture. Charlie backed away slightly, feeling frightened by this sudden change in mood. He swallowed hard before continuing. "There is something wrong with you, or at least something different. You're not human, and I know that for a fact," he said.

Charlie backed away from John, bumping into a lamp post. She felt her blood turn into ice at his words. Her mind became a soup of thoughts as she struggled to figure out what to say, to perhaps deflect what he said, or in the very least, derail him and prevent him from coming to the conclusion that she was a robot, however, she couldn't figure anything out. She felt her heart pound hard against her chest.

"And you know what?" John asked, stepping forward. "I think you know as well." He stood tall, almost expecting Charlie to give up, to reveal everything, to finally put the nail in the coffin, however, that didn't happen. She narrowed her eyes as she stared at him.

"I don't understand..." she began, though she then looked away from him, glancing out to the parking lot. "I mean, I remember when I was a toddler. I remembered when I first learned to walk," she said. She was telling the truth—she did remember those events, however, she knew that those memories were fake. "I mean, I could describe them in perfect detail."

John shook his head, looking down at the ground. He felt as if he was getting nowhere, or at least, that was what it seemed like at first glance. However, when he suddenly confronted her about how inhuman she was, she seemed to panic, even if it was only for a few seconds. He was making progress. "Charlie, that's part of the problem. You shouldn't remember when you were a baby."

"But I do," Charlie said. "Doesn't everyone?" she asked, completely oblivious to the fact that most people forget their early childhood memories by the time they reach the age of five.

"No," John said. "Everyone forgets those memories. I mean, everyone does." He then placed a hand over her shoulder. "Look, I'm trying to help you, don't you understand?" he asked. "I mean, William Afton was interested in you for a reason, wasn't he? He told you that he took you, and not Sammy, and the letter your father wrote, even if just vaguely, confirms that. That means that your father brought you back to life, somehow, but then..."

John's eyes widened at this realization. He said that he wanted to see his Charlie again, in a way that almost seemed like a suicide note, even though he somehow managed to bring her back to life. He pondered this for a moment, but was interrupted by the sound of an engine roaring to life behind him, and a car driving away. He sighed, completely losing his train of thought.

Charlie backed away even further. "John?" she asked, almost frightened of him. She was completely and utterly terrified of the possibility of John finding out exactly what she was, and to her, it seemed like John was just about to do just that. She began shivering in her hands, and she couldn't help but blurt out her thoughts. "John, you're scaring me."

John stopped, looking into her eyes. Her breaths were raspy, and her eyes were bulging. Her face was beyond pale, and her hands were clammy. He then backed off. "Sorry..." he said, realizing his mistake. He sighed, glancing at his car. He then turned back to Charlie, extending a hand. "So... do you want to go home with us, or do you want to explore the rest of the park? It's your choice," he said. He wanted to stay and explore the rest of the park, as did Jessica, but he was also worried about Charlie, and what she wanted to do.

Charlie met his gaze. "I want to go... I'm exhausted, and I don't think it'll be safe if we stay here any longer," she said. She was of course worried about their safety, but she was more concerned with the possibility of the truth about her coming out. She didn't want that, because she felt that if anyone did find out, they would tell the others, and she didn't want to risk that. The two then went into the park, showing their tickets to the people at the gates. Then, they went inside the park. Jessica and Carlton were waiting, standing near the large vertical map of the park. They turned to face Charlie.

"Charlie!" Jessica exclaimed, running up to her and scanning her with her eyes, making sure she wasn't hurt. When she found out that she was not injured, she sighed in relief. . "What happened?" she asked.

"I hallucinated myself going back in time to 1983," Charlie said. "I watched my toddler self get kidnapped and murdered by this dark shadow person, who then stuffed her into a suit and then stabbed me to death," she also said.

Jessica's blood ran cold as she said that. "Oh my god. Well... are you alright?"

"I'm fine now," Charlie said. "But that experience was too vivid for me to even consider a dream. It felt like I was actually there," she said, shaking her head in denial. She felt better about telling others about it now that she had already told John. Carlton approached her, his lips pinched tight.

"That's just crazy," Carlton said. "So like, you talked to yourself? Like Back to the Future?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, looking down at the concrete tile she stood on. "It wasn't fun, it was actually pretty scary."

"Oh," Carlton said. He straightened his posture and looked up; it was no longer twilight. The sun was gone, and the stars were out. Not even the haze of the sun was visible anymore. "It's nighttime already. Hey, what even is the time, anyway?"

John glanced down at his watch. He read the time before then glancing back at Carlton. "It's 6:37."

"I've been out for that long?" Charlie asked, her eyes widening and her movements freezing. She was shocked that so much time passed. Eventually, though, she regained her composure. "It didn't feel that long."

"Yeah, and you also have really short dreams even if you sleep for a long time. It's normal," Jessica said. "Well, let's go to the next area of the park. Wasn't it called Bonnie's Rock Zone or something?"

John stepped forward, showing protest. He shook his head. "We should go. Charlie doesn't want to be here anymore, and honesty, I'm starting to agree with her. This place is kinda creepy at night."

Jessica nodded. "Alright then." Without another word, the four of them left the park and headed into the parking lot. "So, who is going to drive?"

"I will," John said, immediately taking lead. "You and Charlie both drove for twelve hours straight. I'll drive this time." Carlton was about to say something, but then he stopped himself, just nodding. John walked over to Charlie's car. She followed him and then she handed her keys to him. John unlocked the car and slipped into the driver's seat. Charlie sat down in the passenger seat. Jessica and Carlton went in the back. John inserted the key in the ignition and then turned the key. The engine roared to life, and he pulled the car out of the parking lot and drove off.

Charlie looked out the window, watching as the park vanished from her sight. She shook her head, pressing her head against the window. I don't know how long I can keep this a secret, she thought to herself. I feel like they're going to find out the truth, but I don't want them to. She held her stomach as if it were pained, but it wasn't pained.

The car was finally on the main road. It was a long and straight road that usually had little traffic. John sighed, glancing over to Charlie, but his eyes widened as he noticed her posture. "Charlie?" he asked, visibly concerned. His eyebrows drew together as he stared at her.

"Yeah?" Charlie asked, glancing at him. She felt her heart pounding against her chest as she felt her anxiety worsen.

"Are you okay? You look really stressed out," he said. Of course, him confronting her and bringing forward some really uncomfortable points might have stressed her out.

"Yeah," Charlie said.

"Okay..." he said. He just continued driving, occasionally glancing out the side window. Carlton dug into the bag and looked at the Vinnie plush that he got before. It felt much less real, and it felt lore like any regular doll, with nothing special about it. Jessica glanced at it.

"I guess we were right," she said. "Those illusion discs must have been littered all over the park. I'm guessing that's the humming Charlie heard before."

Carlton nodded, and then he put the plush back in the bag. "I just don't understand that place. I mean, are the animatronics possessed?"

Jessica was unsure of this. She felt that the animatronics were behaving more human than normal, and that on its own it was quite suspicious, but there wasn't any definitive proof of the animatronics being possessed. She shrugged. "I don't really know. They act weird and all, but that might just be technology."

Carlton shook his head. "William Afton was the one that made the discs, right? If those illusion discs are all over the park, then that means that William Afton is in charge... right?"

Jessica nodded. "Yeah. Still, the park is a business, and for a business to succeed, it needs to make more profits than expenses." She glanced out the window, almost expecting the park to be visible, but it wasn't. She then glanced back at Carlton. "That park has a lot of expenses, even if a lot of what we see is just because of those illusion discs. Admission fees and merchandise won't cover those high costs."

John nodded in agreement. "So, now we have the one-million dollar question," he began. He kept his eyes glued to the road and the steering wheel. "How are they making so much money?"

Jessica shrugged, and Carlton remained silent. "They have to be selling something, and it certainly isn't those rides. I'm as clueless as you," she said.

John turned to Charlie. "How about you?"

Charlie turned to meet his gaze. "I don't know."