I am SO sorry it's taking me this long to get a new chapter out, but I promise the wait is worth it! I've had to work more on the story line and characters to really get a sense of where I want this to go and thankfully Security Breach has helped me figure out more of the story direction I want. (And I had to comb through my notes from 2014/15 and scrap a bunch of them.) Chapter 5 is already completed and will be posted soon for be on the look out for it!

Chapter 4

The blaring screeching of my alarm clock greets me as I wake up, squinting my eyes at the late afternoon sun coming through the warped blinds of my window. With a huff I turn off the deafening alarm and flop back onto the mattress, facing the cream wall of my room. My old Foxy plushie stares back at me and I can't help but glare at it's empty felt eyes.

What was up with last night?

I'm not a superstitious person. I'm not religious either. I just don't really care for the paranormal or supernatural when I can easily see what's in front of me and is tangible and logical.

But haunted animatronics? The most vivid nightmare I've ever had after being practically hunted all night the same exact night?

My stomach is still churning because I can still smell that putrid rot. Still feel that disgusting wall and the phantom stickiness to the bottoms of my feet.

Did Mike really put up with this for a whole year? How is he still sane?

"Christy?"

Speak of the devil.

I roll over to look at the door where Mike is leaning up against the frame with his arms crossed, still in his work uniform. He's frowning.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "And why didn't you knock?"

"I did." He steps over to sit on the edge of my bed, placing the back of his hand on my forehead. "Are you okay? Is it your head again? Or just last night?"

I swat the hand away and turn back over, grabbing Captain Foxy in my arms and holding the toy to my chest.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

My fingertips dig into synthetic fur. "You must have gone through hell last year," I quietly say.

I hear Mike sigh. "I did. I don't regret it though, because the pay was decent enough to keep us going. It was worth it for that, but it was hell, yeah. It was a hell I wish you didn't have to live through too."

We stay together like that for a few minutes. Understanding and listening as cars drove past the apartment. I almost fall back asleep but Mike gets my attention again by roughly patting my knee.

"Come on," he says. I wince at the forced cheerfulness in his voice. "I brought pizza home for dinner. They had your favorite out on the buffet today and they had a lot left over."

I perk up at that. "Pepperoni, bacon, mushroom, and jalapeno?"

"Nope! Hawaiian!"

"Ew, no! That's your favorite, you jerk!"

Mike laughs as he skirts out of my room, just narrowly dodging my pillow.

Assuming he left to heat up dinner, or breakfast in my case, I take my time getting dressed.

On my vanity stool is my work uniform where I left it yesterday when I got ready for bed, one whiff of the purple button up and I toss the entire thing in my small hamper. No way I can wear that with how badly it smells of stress sweat. Instead I pull on a clean pair of black slacks and a white tank.

A quick brush of my hair and I leave with my laundry in tow. In the hallway beside our one bathroom, we're lucky to have a small closet where we keep a washer and dryer. I dump my laundry in the washer with soap, and head on to the living room, leaving the basket in the hall.

On the coffee table is set a plate of still steaming pizza, Hawaiian I note in disgust, but I sit down anyway and pick up the plate.

"Coming over to the dark side of pineapple now?"

I turn around to where Mike is coming out of the kitchen with another plate, smirking.

"I thought you said it was only this abomination left?"

"When did I say that? I said there was plenty of your favorite," he teases. He takes a loud sniff of the pizza on his plate as he sits down beside me. "Guess this meaty, shroomy, spicy goodness is all mine then!"

I feel my right eye twitch as I set down the plate of sin and hold out a hand to him. "Give."

He hands it over easily with a chuckle and we settle down to eat.

The pizza is a bit soggy from sitting out and then being reheated but it's still pretty tasty. Some people believe that only kids like Fazbear pizza because of all the grease and cheese and sugar, but we've always liked it well enough, whether it be because of taste or nostalgia by this point. Heck, it's better than a lot of the diner scraps I would bring home after a shift at Randy's. But it's also helped us keep our food costs down since any leftover pizza is free for employees to take home.

Mike shifts to put his now empty plate back on the coffee table and turns back to face me. "We need to talk, kiddo."

I glance at him, nervous, because that was his serious voice again. This must not be good.

He waits until I put down my plate too and face him.

"I couldn't get you out of the contract."

Ah.

"It's okay," I assure him, trying to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. "I know you did your best."

Mike scratches at his chin scruff and looks away from me. "I did, but I still feel like it wasn't enough. I mean, the legalities of the contract and arguing them aren't really my forte. Nuts and bolts are so much easier than legal bindings. But we might have one more option if you're okay with it."

"What option?"

"I could call Way-"

I scramble forward and slap my hands over his mouth.

"No!"

Mike doesn't try to push me off, he just watches and lets me try to calm down.

"I would rather work years at Fazbear than have to deal with him."

I slowly sit back again, clenching my fists in my lap.

Mike places a hand on top on my head. "If you're sure then."

"Positive. I don't want him getting any ideas."

"Then that's it then," Mike sighs. The hand from my hair leaves and I hear a rustling as he pulls out a shopping bag from where it had been stashed beside the couch. "I figured that you would say no, so I went by the store and picked these up for you. Thought that they may help give you an advantage if something goes wrong."

He puts the bag in my lap and I open it to reveal a stun gun.

"Is this even allowed at work?"

I run my fingers over the packaging. It's a dark blue body with a purple flaming cartoon fist on either side. "Delivering the Punch you need!" it says.

Mike takes it from my hands and opens it with his pocket knife. "It's not not allowed," he says with a chuckle. He hands it back without the casing. "Here. Just make sure you charge it before your shift, okay? It only takes thirty minutes."

"Thanks, Tink."

I just hope this actually works to keep me safe.

Remember it's okay to take your time on something you care about to get the result you want! The most important thing is that you work on it. Keep up the good work!

~Bless, Alpha