He pulled up to the abandoned house on the hill. He gave a heavy sigh and buried his face in his hands. He promised himself he wouldn't come back to this house...ever. Not after what happened. He only came back once since then, and yet here he was again, like a glutton for punishment back for his next dose of torment. Yet, something within him told him that this was where he needed to be. He didn't know why, but something told him that the answer to what he was looking for would be found here.

He exited his car and gazed up at the dark house, which seemed to loom over him much more so than last time. How long ago was that now? He couldn't even remember. He'd been traveling for so long, trying to find work wherever he could and just looking to never look back at the town or anything related to it. But now, he was drawn back to this house with no clue why.

With another heavy sigh, he took his first step toward the house.

Clay pulled up to Jessica's apartment complex. Sam noted how elegant the place looked. Just by judging the exterior, It was a step up from his and Kyle's complex in Chicago. He wondered how Jessica was able to support herself so well being a college student.

"Well, here we are," Clay announced as if they had arrived at a destination on a tour. He handed him a piece of paper. "This is her apartment number. Just knock, but if she's not home, Carlton says she hides a key under her mat."

Sam nodded and got out of the car, closing the door slightly harder than he intended to, and began walking slowly to the building.

"And Sam?" Clay called after him. He looked back. Clay's face had dropped significantly. He looked much more somber, and Sam couldn't help but notice months of physical and emotional stress and agony showing.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

They maintained eye contact for a few moments. In his middle-aged eyes, Sam felt a new force of concern looking back at him. Concern...and fear.

"Okay."

Clay gave a small nod and drove off. Sam turned his attention back to the apartment and walked inside.

The inside was nice, freshly decorated for Easter, with bright yellow paint all over the walls. The desk and doorframes were made from polished wood, presumably oak, and there were two large ceiling fans that spun noiselessly on the ceiling.

"Can I help you?"

Sam turned to the direction of the voice. A young man, blond, likely in his early twenties, sat behind the desk.

"I'm visiting someone. She lives here."

The man nodded and gestured to the stairs. Sam thanked him and began climbing. It was when he reached the third floor that something struck him.

This place looks similar to mine, only cleaner.

As he walked down the hall, the realization turned into a strange sense of deja vu. It suddenly seemed like he had been here before. But he hadn't, had he? He still couldn't remember so many details that he probably should, but he was certain he had never been to this apartment complex before, especially with how new it looked. And yet, something seemed eerily familiar, like he was expecting to see or hear something.

Sammy!

There it was. That child's voice again, though this time he knew it was only in his head. Why was this suddenly happening to him, especially when he was walking by himself down an empty hallway? He shook his head violently as if he'd walked into a cobweb.

After only a minute, he found Jessica's door. He gave the door a few knocks, trying not to be too loud in case he was disturbing her. No answer. He knocked again, louder. Still nothing. He tried once more, louder than before.

"Hey!" came a loud voice. Sam jumped and turned around to find an older man peering out at him from the door across the hall.

"Um…"

"You here to see Jessica?" he asked in an almost fierce voice.

Slowly, Sam nodded, intimidated by this man.

"Tell her she needs to keep that radio down. I'm serious!" With that, he slammed the door, which was followed by the clear sound of a lock clicking into place.*

Sam slowly turned back to Jessica's door, creeped out by the sudden intrusion of silence. As he looked down, he noticed a dark green welcome mat. He reached down and pulled it up, only to find nothing. Sam shook his head in confusion, but then noticed the key taped to the bottom of the mat.

"Wow. Impressive," he said, pulling it off. He stuck it in the lock and opened the door slowly, stepping inside and closing it behind him.

When he walked toward the kitchen and living room, he was immediately awed at how clean it was. He walked into the kitchen and pulled open some of the cupboards. Plates and glasses were stacked neatly according to size and style. The drawers had silverware packed neatly and utensils separated by use. Sam could only shake his head.

"Compared to Kyle, I thought I was pretty organized, but this blows that right out of the water."

He walked into the living room and noticed a small TV on a table and a sofa facing it. There was a small stack of books on the table that sat before it. Sam picked one up and read the cover.

Archaeology, huh? he thought as he skimmed through some of the pages. It was textbook stuff with many pictures and diagrams. Nothing that important to him.

He placed the book back on the table and turned to the hallway that led to a bathroom and bedroom. He walked down the hall to the bedroom. It was about what he expected. Rather small, but still gave off a very strong sense of being Jessica's based on what he'd already seen. He noticed a poster showing a hand-drawn sketch of Broadway, and he was taken aback at how good it was. He almost thought it was his mother's at first, given how good it was. As he got closer to it, he realized…

It IS my mother's!

From her method of using lighter traces for further objects and darker lines for closer objects to her trademark style of putting the focus, in this case the theater, on one side with the street on the other and walking silhouettes in the distance, it all gave off his mother's style very clearly. Then there was also the fact that her name was clearly etched in the corner. HANNAH ANDERSON, written in her usual curved format.

He was startled by the sound of the door slamming shut. He jumped do much he knocked a lamp off of the nightstand. It hit the ground hard with a loud crash and countless broken pieces scattered all over the floor.

Uh-oh. What have I done? He thought, looking back and forth between his mistake and the newcomer, probably Jessica.

"Hello?" came a worried voice from down the hall.

He saw a young woman walk into view down the hall.

"Jessica?" he called. "It's Sam."

"Sam?" She approached the doorway, a small brown bag in her hand.

"Yeah," he said, chuckling slightly trying to lighten the mood, only for his heart to sink when her eyes moved to the broken lamp on the floor. "Oh, that. I'm really sorry. Clay had something to take care of so he told me to wait for you. Said your key was under the mat. I was looking around and I saw the drawing here and you came in and it startled me-"

She held up her hand. "Don't worry about it," she said, a smile forming on her face. "To be honest, I never liked that lamp, anyway. It was a gift from my mother that I didn't really want."

Sam laughed nervously, still hesitant to believe his mistake was forgiven. She smiled back at him, taking in his characteristics that he shared with his sister, particularly his nervousness. Charlie was much more silent about them while Sam, it seemed, tended to ramble, but they both shared the same self-consciousness when it came to their presentation to others.

"Come on," she told him, trying to ease his worries. "Let's talk in the other room."

He followed her as she sat down on the couch and removed a large package from the bag.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Something for a project," she told him. "I study archaeology."

"Yeah, I noticed from your books. I couldn't help but look."

"That's alright."

"Seriously, I can pay for that lamp if you want."

"Sam, don't worry about it. It's alright." She set the package down on the table and sat back, crossing a leg and looking at him. "I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk much yesterday. It was so late, you know?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"How much did Clay and Carlton tell you?"

"Pretty much everything," said Sam, "at least from their end. There's a lot I don't understand."

"There's still a lot I don't understand, either," said Jessica. "And to think that only two years ago from right now I was living a normal teen life in New York."
"Yeah, I saw your drawing in there. Of Broadway. You know my mother drew that?"

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah. Hannah Anderson, that's my mother. She's an artist. She specializes in all sorts of works. In fact, from what she told me, she and my dad met each other over one of her drawings."

Her eyes widened and a smile crept onto her face. He was definitely Charlie's brother, all right, excitement and all.

"So, Sam," she said. "What are you up to in Chicago?"

Sam shrugged. "Not much right now. I thought about going to college, but there's not really anything I want to go for that requires it. I'd much rather be a musician. That's why Kyle and I started a band back home. It's not much, at least not right now, but it's getting our name out there, hopefully. In the meantime, we both have our daytime jobs. I work in landscaping as a laborer, and Kyle helps his parents in their business. Just for the time being, you know?"

He gave a shrug, suddenly finding it uncomfortable to go on once again about his uncertain life back home. He was increasingly discovering with every confession how much of an insecurity it was. Throughout his school days, particularly in high school when he and Kyle began gaining some attention for their musical talents, he always prided himself in the fact that he was able to do something that people liked. The days of worthlessness, feeling like he had nothing to offer the world and would forever remain a nobody, seemed to be coming to an end. When the two of them performed at their talent show senior year and won the applause of the entire student body with an improvised rendition of Toto's "Hold the Line," he knew that he had found his true calling...or so he thought. When high school ended and the pursuit of a music career in the real world turned up no big fruitful results, even after several months, it felt like a big slap in the face. It seemed this cruel world had teased him, letting him feel like he had something to offer only to take those hopes away from him. He was only a young man with a talent that few seemed interested in, and who now found himself called back to his childhood state on possibly another fruitless venture to help find his missing sister.

He looked up and noticed Jessica's concerned look and realized he had obviously zoned out and was silent for a while. He cleared his throat.

"But anyway. Enough about me. What about you?"

Jessica gave a big sigh. "Well, your sister and I have been good friends since we were kids. We met in kindergarten when she and her dad...your dad...moved into town."

"What was she like?" Sam asked, suddenly very curious about her. After all, Jessica knew much more about her than he could ever remember.

Jessica scoffed. "I loved her. We all did. We used to love playing games together. At recess, at Freddy's…"

"Freddy Fazbear's?" Sam guessed. The name still didn't ring any bells personally but he remembered the name from what he previously read and was told.

"Yeah. We played hide-and-seek in there all the time, before...well, I'm sure you heard."

"About the kids?"

"Yeah. One of them was a very close friend of ours, Michael Brooks. In fact, he's the reason why the rest of us got back together almost two years ago. There was a scholarship dedication to him."

"Yeah, I heard about that," said Sam. A small silence fell between them, both unsure of how to continue the conversation until Sam cleared his throat.

"So, uh, what about Freddy's? What was it like?" He was interested in hearing about some of his father's work since he and his mother left.

She opened her mouth, but then closed it, a thoughtful look appearing on her face. Finally, she spoke.

"It was truly a wonderful place. Kids from all over town wanted to have their birthday parties there. The arcade games were pretty fun, and the food was pretty good, too. But of course, the best of all were the animatronics...Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie the rabbit, Chica the chicken, and Foxy the fox, singing songs all day long to the children. We had a lot of fun there." She gave a big sigh. "But that was before everything happened. The kids disappeared, the restaurant closed, and we all ended up going our separate ways...at least until recently."

"When did you last see my sister? Back then?"

"The day she went to go live with your Aunt Jen, the day your father-"

"Right," said Sam. That fact still bothered him, though not as much as he felt it should. If only he'd known his father more closely growing up, then it might have more of an impact. But alas, his father remained a fragment of his past that didn't seem to want to connect with his present.

Jessica stood up. "So, how about I show you around?"

"Where are we, Jeremy?" the young woman on the TV screen asked her colleague.

"I'm not sure," the man answered. "I think we may be about two clicks east of La Paz."

"You said that last time!" she yelled.

"Lydia, don't start!" he shot back. "I know where we are! It's just taking a little longer to get there, that's all!"

"It always amazes me how often in these movies people get lost," said Kyle, as he and Carlton sat in the living room watching a movie they had selected. Kyle was unfamiliar with it, but Carlton had seen it a few times before. On-screen, a married couple were in Bolivia filming a documentary but had gotten lost. According to Carlton, things were going to get interesting on their journey.

"Yep," Carlton agreed. "Happens every time. Guess what happens next?"

"Hmm, let's see. She forces him to stop and ask for directions at a suspicious-looking place?"

"Bingo."

They watched as Jeremy reluctantly pulled over to an old warehouse-like building.

"Now why would you stop there?" Kyle asked. "Clearly, it's abandoned."

"You never know," said Carlton with a smirk on his face.

"Hello?" Jeremy said cautiously with a knock on the door. "Is anybody here?"

"Check the door," said Lydia.

He gave her a concerned look and pushed on the door. To their surprise, it opened, revealing an empty hallway with chipped paint everywhere.

"Yeah, that's not suspicious at all," said Kyle skeptically, watching intently as Lydia handed Jeremy the flashlight.

Carlton scoffed. "Watch this. See if you noticed anything unusual."

As Jeremy and Lydia walked down the hall, their footsteps creaking with every passing moment, they noticed a cracked door down the hall.

"Something's gonna fly outta that closet," said Kyle.

Jeremy reached out his hand toward the closet door while Lydia grabbed his arm. The handle was pulled, the door cracked open. And then, with a loud blast from the soundtrack, three large birds flew out past them, knocking them over, and out into the air.

"Well, that was surprising," said Kyle, rolling his eyes. "I thought you said this movie had real scares in it."

"It does...if you're five," said Carlton, laughing. Kyle chuckled, too.

"Yeah? Is this how you felt during your incidents at Freddy's?"

Carlton stopped, his face dropping. Kyle immediately recognized his mistake.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that back up. It must have been hard for you."

"It was. I still have nightmares about it all the time. That's why Mom left, you know?"

Kyle nodded.

"But hey, as I said, things are ok, now. Can't keep living in the past forever, right? Gotta keep pushing forward somehow, even if it hurts." He gestured to his fragile healing body. Kyle thought back to something his father had brought up.

"So, is it true? About all those pranks you pulled?"

Carlton nodded, looking as if he'd take a bow for it if he could. "What's life without a few laughs here and there?"

"A few?" Kyle laughed. "That's not what I hear."

"Ok, so I'm a dedicated prankster," said Carlton, raising his hands in surrender. "Sue me."

"I don't doubt it," said Kyle.

"What about you? You seem to like being the class clown sometimes, too."

"Nah, I mainly stick to wisecracks, and even those I've toned down a bit, because of…" He trailed off, secretly hoping he wouldn't have to continue, but Carlton's visible interest wasn't fading. "Well, to be honest, I kind of started a fight with one of the toughest guys in school a few years ago. Johnny Wilhelm. Big guy, leader of the jocks, your typical jerk."

"What happened?"

Kyle winced. "He started poking fun at me, I said something back. I forget what. Sam probably remembers the details better than I do. We got more serious and personal, and then we ended up duking it out."

"What did you say?"

Kyle shook his head. "I forget," he lied. "It's been a few years." The look on his face was that of a man who lost something valuable. "Anyway, I try to be more careful with what I say. Nothing's worth getting beat up like that."

"You get in trouble?"

Kyle nodded. "We both did. Sam jumped in to help me, as did some of our other friends, but that didn't stop all of us from earning some bruises and cuts. My parents were pretty mad, but Sam's mom was absolutely furious. I didn't think I'd ever see him again. Thankfully, he managed to talk her into letting our friendship continue. It's still pretty painful and embarrassing to think about. Sometimes I wonder how Sam puts up with me so much when all I've done is annoy him to death and get him into trouble."

"Well, be thankful. Those are true friends for you."

"Yeah, you're right," said Kyle. "Anyway, I'm getting pretty bored with this movie. You got anything else we could do?"

Carlton looked over at him mischievously, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Well, I haven't been outta the house much lately and my dad pretty much refuses to take me anywhere unless it's important, but since you're here...you wanna go see Freddy's?"

Clay set his things down on the floor near his desk and sat down in his chair. He had just gotten back from yet another attempt to take control of a man who was now insisting that the curse is upon the town even more so that before and needs to be broken fast before someone else dies. Despite Afton being dead (or so they all hoped) and with no more children missing or dead, it still felt to Clay that something of this entire tragedy was still alive, and this crazy man was keeping it alive. "We must break the curse!" he shouted. "The curse is upon us! We must break it soon before it devours us!" Clay rubbed his face in his hands. All he wanted was to hopefully find Charlie as he promised her friends, and as long as this man continued his ramblings, it seemed like the past was never going to really go away.

"Sir?" came a voice from the door. Clay looked up to see Norah standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Norah, what is it?"

"You have a visitor who needs to speak with you immediately."

"Which line?" he asked, reaching for his phone.

"No, she's here in person, and she's frantic about something. She won't talk to anyone else."

Clay groaned. Boy, this day just kept getting better and better.

"Alright," he said getting up. "I'm coming."

He followed Norah out to the front where a woman stood right behind the front desk, her clothes ruffled indicating her rush to be here.

"Ma'am," he told her, and she looked up at him, a mixture of fear and fury in her eyes. "I'm Clay Burke. How may I help you?"

Recognizing his voice, she lowered her eyebrows.

"First of all, as I've told you before, I'm no longer married."

REFERENCES

*Jessica's neighbor is from The Fourth Closet, p. 54, 202-203.