The robotic beast stared its target down once more. Kyle felt like screaming but nothing was willing itself to come from his throat. The beast had taken damage at some point since its last appearance, whether from the flare gun or the after-effect. One side of its face had melted and was drooping downward, giving it the appearance of a smeared painting. Despite already looking like a messy, broken pile of mechanical parts, it still managed to look more like a nightmare than it already had.

Easy, Kyle, he told himself. Keep calm. Maybe it got damaged and can't see me.

With a loud crack, it tilted its head to the side, making Kyle wince.

Or maybe that was a stupid thought, to begin with.

There came a loud metallic grinding noise. The creature kept its gaze locked onto Kyle's as its mouth slowly tried opening. Kyle wanted to begin moving backward, slowly and steadily, but his legs forgot how to work. The grinding noise continued relentlessly. Kyle's hands flew up to his ears.

Another reason why I hate these things, he thought. His entire body was shaking. So much for not showing any fear.

Its eyes were glued on him steadily, a hint of malice in the singular dots it had for pupils, yet it remained where it was. Kyle fought the urge to run. He remembered watching animal shows with Sam. They'd both made fun of the guide and his thick Australian accent and the way he always seemed to be throwing himself right back into danger as soon as he got out. Now, he found himself struggling to remember whatever he could about what to do when in a staredown with a predator. He was drawing a blank, aside from the number one rule: Don't make any sudden movements.

It just kept staring, occasionally twitching in the arm, leg, or head.

What does it want me to do? Kyle thought in desperation. Should I confess my red hot burning love for it and hope that it thanks me and walks away?*

Kyle was so entranced in his staredown that he failed to notice his foot subconsciously take a step backward. Its eyes widened and its jaw shot open with a loud crunch, a heavy metallic whirring sound emulating from somewhere within it. To Kyle, it sounded like a horrific scream.

In a flash, the creature began sprinting toward him. Instinctively, he dove to the left and began crawling underneath one of the large platforms that housed countless boxes of broken parts on it. He just managed to crawl forward enough to avoid the creature's grasp as he felt the whoosh of its movements behind him. He crawled forward, struggling in his panic to escape from the nightmare behind him. He didn't know where he was going or even if there was an escape on the other side, only that he had to keep moving forward.

Behind him, the beast stopped clawing at the opening and ran away, its loud, heavy footsteps fading. Kyle stopped moving, trying to pinpoint the direction in which it had gone. It sounded like it went right, but he couldn't be sure.

The steps faded, and it grew silent, as silent as it could be beneath the flames and occasional groaning noises coming from the ceiling above him.

I need to get outta here, he thought. I have to. I will. I've done this before. His mind flashed back to his days of playing laser tag with Sam. Yeah, that's it! It's just like laser tag...only in this case, you die if you get caught.

He listened for the footsteps. They were completely gone. Still, he didn't trust the silence. He wished that it was more like laser tag without the fire. Then he could use the echoes to his advantage. But in this heat, he couldn't concentrate. His eyes were watering and there wasn't much light in the small space he had taken refuge in. There wasn't even any promise that the platform above him wouldn't crash down on him.

He shook his head, trying to think positively. All I need to know is which way it went.

Immediately, a loud crash from behind him where he had entered clashed against his eardrums. He began scrambling forward slowly toward the exit on the other side. As he got close, he stopped.

If it's used to catching kids...and clearly thinks I'm one...it obviously expects me to do something like a kid would. Maybe I can outsmart it. How would Sam do this?

He remembered his sixteenth birthday at the Laser Tag Centre when his parents rented out the place. He and Sam were playing a 2v2 game of laser tag against James and Eric. After being surprised in an ambush, they had been chased to an intersection only to find that their pursuers had seemingly vanished.

"Where are they?" he asked, glancing around the small space with a few different hallways branching in different directions.

"They were just behind us," said Sam. "I think they may have gone that way…" He pointed through a wall. "...to try and cut us off at the next intersection."

"Are you sure?" Kyle asked. "I don't think they know the maze that well. We should keep going in case they're still following us. We'll find a way to lose them ahead."

He turned and began to move but Sam yanked him back.

"Stop."

Kyle turned back. "Sam, they're-"

"Shh! You hear that?"

Kyle listened. Beneath the techno music pulsing through their bodies, the unmistakable sound of faint footsteps came from several feet away behind a wall.

"They're going back!" Kyle said, softly enough for only Sam to hear. He pointed back. "You see? We need to go forward." He made to leave again, but Sam's grip held him firmly.

"Wait."

"For what? We'll be tagged if we stay here!"

"Listen…"

A small whistle came from the direction they came. Sam shook his head.

"That's Eric. I'm willing to bet he's got Jimmy waiting up ahead, ready to blast us because we didn't trust going back."

As soon as the words left his mouth, they heard another singular pair of quiet footsteps moving on the other side of the wall.

"Uh-huh," said Sam, pulling Kyle back. "Come on."

"Sam…"

"Trust me."

They went back the way they came. They found the area in which they had been ambushed deserted. Without a word, Sam signaled another hallway. They followed it to the end, where James and Eric were patiently waiting for them to come from another direction. Two more points and a lot of competitive laughs and groans.

As another identical crash came from behind, Kyle pondered the beast's motives.

If it thinks I'm a kid, he thought, then it'll expect me to keep moving forward away from the loud, scary noise.

With no more time to ponder, he began inching his way back, trying his best to remain silent. All the while, he kept his eyes locked on the space ahead of him, hoping with every fiber of his being that he was making the right choice.

His legs emerged from the platform, followed by the rest of his body. He slowly pulled himself up, gazing around the room for his pursuer. It was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief (which almost gave him a coughing fit), he turned to the shelving unit near the vent. It had been knocked away quite a few feet from its previous position but had fallen against another column supporting the ceiling. From the looks of it, he could still make a jump for the vent from the top shelf.

He took a step forward and felt something brush against his leg. It was a small crate full of parts that fell to the ground with a loud crash. With a new sense of dread flooding him, he turned back to the platform he had just crawled underneath. Through a tangle of burning metal and debris, he saw the robotic beast's face suddenly pop up from the other side. In an instant, it was gone.

Breath quickening once more, Kyle made a sprint for the shelving unit and began climbing it. The shelves were significantly weaker than last time.

Oh, please don't break on me, thought Kyle. Not now.

Thankfully, they held him. He climbed higher and higher while the smoke grew thicker and thicker. In his panic, he had forgotten about how smoke rises. He hoped that most of it was escaping in some other way besides the vent, like in the part of the building that had already completely collapsed.

He finally reached the top shelf and began grasping for the vent while trying not to lose his balance and fall. It was close, very close, yet just out of reach. After several failed attempts, his hand finally grasped the edge of the vent. He was just about to grab with his other hand when he felt a sharp sting of pain in his ankle and his body was yanked downward by a strong force. He turned in horror. The large metal claw-like hand was firmly latched onto his foot. Below, the horribly disfigured face and glowing pupils were glaring up at him.

"There's no escape," it said, its mouth now moving almost perfectly with formed syllables. Its hand began to slowly pull on his foot.

"NO!" Kyle screamed, shaking his foot furiously as he clung to the shelving unit with a strength he didn't know he had, nearly letting go as his body was slowly tugged downward. "LET GO OF ME!"

But the metal grip only tightened. Kyle screamed in agony. He felt like his entire ankle was about to be crushed. The downward pull continued.

"I've got you now, little boy," it said, its voice low and malfunctioning though still distinguishable.

"GET OFF!" Kyle screamed in a blind panic, continuing to shake his foot desperately out of the death grip. The metal fingers would not relent.

Those thin pupils continued staring right into his own. The beast smiled.

"You're coming with me."

Kyle shook his head frantically, turning to the vent. His fingers were only a foot away. He might have a chance if he lunged at it. If he failed, he would fall and the beast would probably have him pinned, but there was no other way. It was worth a shot.

He waited for the grip to slacken slightly. With all of his strength, he pushed himself at the vent away from the beast. He felt the claw-like grip slip down his ankle and away with a long scratch. Behind him, the beast lunged after him, but the sudden shift in weight caused the shelving unit to tip. As Kyle pulled himself into the vent, he heard a loud crash below him. Turning to give one last glance, he saw that the shelving unit had completely tipped over, causing an enormous uproar in the flame that felt dangerously hot against his face and body. A large quivering hand reached up toward him, trying vainly to grab him. Between two shelves, he saw those deadly eyes glaring up at him angrily. A second later, they flickered and went out. Immediately afterward, the entire scene below was engulfed in flames.

"And good riddance!" he shouted, giving a small victory pump with his fist as he turned and began crawling through the vents.

Sam fought to keep his eyes locked onto the white ones above him, afraid that if he looked away for a second, they would be gone. Nightmare continued to stare down at him wordlessly, not moving.

"Aren't you going to insult me some more?" he asked.

In time.

"In time?"

We're not done yet.

"Another game?" Sam asked, hopeful that the answer was no.

No, said Nightmare. I just wanted to make sure I still had your full attention.

Oh, you have it, Sam thought. How could I not after what I've been through?

Good, said Nightmare, making Sam remember that it could read his thoughts, too. Now, tell me...do you remember your second Christmas?

Sam stopped moving. He stared into the white eyes that were still as fixated on him as ever.

Do I remember my second Christmas? What kind of question is that?

I'll take that as a no, Nightmare said with another laugh. Allow me to...shall we say...shed some light on the topic.

Sam winced and covered his face as another blinding light came out of nowhere and engulfed him. This time, he felt pain as it passed, like he had passed straight through the heart of a fire. His body screamed for relief as a whooshing feeling took over and everything fell silent. He remained huddled on the floor, face still buried in his hands. He didn't dare peek. He had no desire to see whatever ghoulish visions this playful entity wanted to show him.

"Sammy! Give it back!"

His breath stopped. He slowly lowered his hands, his mouth agape, as he saw two young children playing in their bedroom, his old bedroom.

"No way. It's mine now!" the younger version of himself said, holding a small, golden plush bear above his head out of reach of Charlie's flailing arms.

"Sammy, I'm not playing! Give it back to me!"

"No! It's mine! Mommy and Daddy didn't give me one! I want it!"

"Sammy! It's mine!" Charlie cried, reaching for it as he held it further away from her. "Give it back!"

But the young Sam smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. Elbow still blocking his sister's determined reach, he grabbed the bear's head with his other hand. There was a loud rip, and he stood with the bear's head in one hand and the body in the other.

"NO!" Charlie shouted, falling to the floor in tears while the young boy examined the broken parts amidst the sobs of his distraught sister.

"No!" said the adult Sam, covering his face in his hands again. "No, that's not true. I would never-!"

I didn't realize you were such a brat as a child, Nightmare said with a deep chuckle. Maybe that's why your father cared more about her than you. What parent wouldn't?

Another blinding light shone faintly through his hands, and when he reluctantly peeked, they were once again back in reality, or at least he hoped it was. The smoke was so thick it was almost impossible to see anything at all. He turned and saw Nightmare, still as clear as before, staring down at him wordlessly from above once more.

"What...now?" he asked fearfully with a chunky cough. He wasn't an expert, but he had a gut feeling that his body was about to fail on him completely.

Now? You'll see. It's about time for my final act. Even in the smoke, Sam saw Nightmare smile broadly. What's the matter? Running out of oxygen?

"Sam! Where are you?" Kyle called, hoping against hope that was somehow being heard. The air was clouded by black smoke, not that he could've seen much anyway with the darkness of the vent. If only I hadn't lost Charlie's flashlight running away from that thing, right when I needed it most! The metal beneath his hands and knees was growing hotter. He wasn't sure where he was in the building anymore but sooner or later Sam would probably hear him. He coughed and banged his hand on the vent floor a few times, hoping he would be heard. "Sam!"

"Sam, talk to me!"

"Sam! Can you hear me?"

"Sam, please!"

He shook his head. Sam has to be somewhere. He has to be. He has to forgive me.

"Sam!"

"Sam, please!"

"Why should I, Kyle?!" When his voice finally interrupted the silence between them, it caught him off guard and turned the heads of everyone around them.

"Because you know you love me too much." Kyle had no idea why he thought humor would win him over, not after what had happened.

"Cut the jokes, Kyle," said Sam, turning back to his locker. "I don't want to hear them today."

"Ok, you're right. I'm sorry." Kyle straightened himself as best he could, trying to look rational. "But hey, at least it was only a three-day suspension. We could've been expelled."

"Right. Only a three-day suspension," said Sam, still avoiding Kyle's eyes. "A three-day suspension that's now on our permanent record, pretty much putting a damper on any chance I have to go to college."

"You said you weren't sure about college, anyway!" Kyle protested, growing nervous. Had he changed his mind?

"I guess not...not anymore," Sam said, slamming his locker shut and finally turning to his pleading friend. "Oh, and let's not forget about the fact that, thanks to you, I'm also grounded for a month. In fact, my mom would lose her mind if she even saw me talking to you. You're not exactly her favorite person right now, you know?"

Kyle sighed. He knew that would come up eventually. His mother was always an obstacle, a rather fearful one at that. Just remembering the look in her eyes that night made him shiver.

"You're right, Sam. I'm sorry. I got carried away and it cost us both. I'm sorry you got in trouble. You didn't have to pull me out like that. It is my fault, and I don't deserve anything from you."

He paused, waiting to hear a response from Sam. He got none. Sam only stared at him, his eyebrows slightly raised but his face still like a stone.

"I know I've done a lot of stupid things, and quite frankly, I'm amazed that you've put up with me all these years. I know I'm a nightmare to be with."

He heard a small huff come from Sam's nose. He hoped it was a chuckle.

"Well," said Kyle, out of things to say. "I'll...see you around, I guess."

He turned to walk away, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Hang on, Mr. Dramatic."

Kyle turned back. Sam's face had softened significantly. He looked like he had just taken a three-hour nap, minus the messy hair.

"It so happens," said Sam matter-of-factly, "that I stood up for you the other night."

Kyle gave him a confused look. "What, you mean with your mom?" Sam nodded/

"She told me she wanted me to break our friendship, that all you're going to do is get me thrown in jail one day."

"But?" said Kyle hopefully.

Sam scoffed. "But I told her that it wasn't necessarily your fault that the biggest self-absorbed, alcoholic jock in the school decided to make you his target for the night, and reminded her about all of the good times we've had over the years."

"And she gave up?" asked Kyle, amazed.

"Well, it took a little while, but eventually, she relented. She reminded me about how much I mean to her, you know, mom stuff, and then she told me that I'd better keep a close eye on you if we keep hanging out."

"So…" Kyle hesitated. It sounded too unbelievable to be true. "Does that mean we're okay, then?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, we are."

"You promise?"

Sam looked at him for a moment and smiled, nodding. He extended a hand, which Kyle immediately grabbed and pulled Sam into an embrace. He felt a hand pat his back and he smiled. How he'd actually gotten out of this one, he'd never ceased to be amazed at.

"But hey," said Sam sternly, pointing a finger after they parted. "You owe me for this."

"Sure," said Kyle without a second thought.

"I'm serious, Kyle. You really need to think before you open that big mouth of yours, otherwise, I just might not be there to bail you out again."

"Uh-huh."

"And I wasn't kidding about owing me, either. Think of this as an IOU. I don't know when or where, but one of these days, I'll be calling in a favor of my own."

"I'll be there," said Kyle, raising his right hand and placing his left over his heart. "No doubt about it. And if I ever get on your nerves again, just tell me. Or maybe go to your happy place you always go to when you're bored, wherever that is."

Sam shook his head. "Shut up. Don't make me punch you."

Kyle's smile faded slightly. "Is that part of your happy place?"

Sam laughed. "Maybe."

There was a loud crack and suddenly Kyle found himself lying on a hard wooden floor. His upper arm and shoulder joint both ached from the impact of the fall. Groaning, he looked up to the ceiling and saw a gaping holein the vent above him.

Great. Just what I needed.

As he steadied his arms on the ground, preparing to push himself up, something caught his attention. Beneath the increasingly roaring flames and occasional bouts of metal scraping, Kyle was certain that he could make out a mumbling noise. It was very soft, and the words being said were completely indistinguishable, but it was there. Kyle slowly pushed himself to his feet, his ankle still bleeding from earlier.

The smoke was thick and heavy, much more so than the other room.

Vents must be malfunctioning in here, thought Kyle. He was finding it increasingly difficult to speak out loud. A loud crash a few feet to his right caused him to jump back right as a pile of burning debris clattered to the ground from above. That almost killed me! That is, if my ankle doesn't do the job first!

He turned to scan the room, scanning his eyes as best he could for the walls. There had to be some sort of exit somewhere. After spotting a wall and following it, he could see no such exit.

How am I supposed to get outta here?!

As he continued walking through the room, the mumbling was becoming louder, words becoming slightly more distinguishable. Kyle stopped walking as a realization hit him.

Is that...Sam?

He continued scanning over the flaming wreckage, trying to pinpoint the direction of the voice. The flames were still burning lively all around him, and there seemed to be a reverberation in this particular room. After maneuvering past another burning pile of debris, the voice suddenly seemed louder. Kyle scoffed in disbelief.

I hear him! Kyle thought with an excitement he hadn't felt in a while. That's him over there! He started slowly working his way around the burning debris in the direction of the faint voice. I wonder what he's saying?

Look at you. So pathetic. So weak. You're not even trying to fight me anymore. Has Charlie's strong, savior brother become too weak to fight?

Sam said nothing but continued to lie on the ground as the smoke began burning his lungs and the intruding flames finally began blazing into the room.

Then again, he's probably too weak to even save himself now, am I right? You stupid fool. You fell right into my trap. I knew showing up in your dream would get you to do anything for Charlie, even get yourself killed in the same place she did.

Sam fought for the strength to retaliate, but he had none. His vision was fading and his energy was draining rapidly. His lungs felt like they were on fire. He could hardly move.

Face it, said Nightmare, suddenly standing a few feet in front of him, its wide, dark grin hovering over him, white eyes shining through the thickening smoke. You're dead. In fact, to your father, you've been dead for years. Charlie was always the special one to Daddy. You were nothing. That's why he left you.

Sam couldn't move. His lungs were on fire and his vision continued to tunnel. He laid his head down on the hard, hot tile floor, his face protesting against the hot surface.

Kyle's not coming for you, either, Nightmare taunted, its voice still clear as day above him. Not after the way you've been treating him these last few years.

"I haven't...done anything," said Sam.

Nothing? How about the fact that he's been clinging to you for most of your life, his only friend, and you've been taking it for granted?

Sam coughed.

Don't deny it. I'm part of you, so you can't lie to me. Ever since you pulled him out of that fight and told him that he owes you, you've been holding it over his head. Sure, you never told him that. What "good" friend would? But you have been, and you know it. He's looked up to you for years and still does now, and all you're doing is holding to what he owes you. You only care about what you can get from him, but you don't care about him. Why should he care about you, now?

Sam coughed again, louder, a glob of mucous falling onto the ground. His lungs felt like they weighed fifty pounds.

"He'll come for me," he muttered, still summoning the energy to return his enemy's death glare, though his eyelids were growing heavier. "He always does. He...he can't leave me alone. Even if that is true..."

He was interrupted by a sudden fit of coughing as his lungs continued trying to expel the toxic smoke from his body. He wasn't sure how long he was coughing. All he knew was that he felt like he was going to die right then and there. Part of him wanted to do it...to just lie down, close his eyes, and go to sleep, hoping that he would wake up and everything would be okay. It was a lulling temptation, but he knew he couldn't do it. It would be suicidal. He had to fight through the pain, though how he would operate his legs, he had no idea. After his coughing finally began to subside, he turned his gaze once more to Nightmare, still standing silently above him, a grin on its face.

"Even if that is true," said Sam, "even if I have been holding Kyle's promise against him, he wouldn't let that stop him. He loves me too much as a friend. Even when I wouldn't speak to him for days, he followed me like a lovesick puppy! Kind of pathetic, really, but it's true! Because I'm his only friend! He won't rest until he finds me. He'll find me...somehow. And we'll get outta here...alive! You'll see!"

Sam finished his statement proudly, anger fuming through his veins. He was sick of the head games, the constant berating, and the lies. He just wanted it to end. He wanted to forget everything that had happened, to just go home and forget any of this had happened in the first place. But that wasn't going to happen and he knew it. With the way his body was continuing to shut down all of his major functions and abilities, he knew that his only hope of getting out was if Kyle...or anyone, for that matter...had, indeed, followed him in, a possibility less-than-probable.

Nightmare said nothing in response. Instead, the eerie smile only widened, shaking Sam to the core. It knew his thoughts. Deep down, Sam knew that his facade had done nothing.

"Sam?"

His heart skipped a beat. Could it really be that simple?

"K-Kyle?"

A pair of dirty shoes stood right in front of him.

"I thought I heard you talking over here."

I stand corrected, Nightmare said with a smirk.

"How did you find me?" Sam asked his friend, looking up at him in amazement. He didn't have a single burn or scratch on him, though his hair was a mess.

"We've all been looking for you," said Kyle with a small smile on his face. "Your mom's worried sick, you know?"

"I know."

"Why are you here, anyway?"

"I came to find Charlie," said Sam. There was no other way to put it, no way to sugar-coat it to make it seem more understandable. He had come to find his long-lost sister and had eventually found himself in one of the worst places he could've.

"To find Charlie," Kyle repeated, his smile falling to a frown. Sam couldn't help but groan. Why was he suddenly being so analytical at a time like this?

"Look…"

"Why did you leave us like that, man?" Kyle asked. "We've all been worried about you! And who were you talking to?"

"No one."

"Yeah, that's what I thought…" He looked around. "...but you were still talking as though there was someone here." Kyle's face suddenly went sour. "I...uh...heard what you said."

Sam gulped. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. "About what?"

"About me," said Kyle bitterly. "I was aware about the whole 'lovesick puppy' impression. I heard the gossip...but I…" He sighed deeply and shook his head. "I just...didn't think it would ever come from you."

"I'm sorry," said Sam. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I think you did," said Kyle. "You sounded pretty convincing when you were talking to...whoever it was you talk to in your spare time. Truth be told, I always found that to be a little weird, but I never made fun of you for it."

The emphasis put on the last part made his intention clear.

"Look, Kyle. I'm sorry. I really am, but can we do this later? We need to get out of here."

"No!" said Kyle with a sudden force that took Sam aback. "No, I want to talk about this now. I came here looking or you, ignored everyone else who thought there was no way you'd end up here, and just survived a run-in with that...thing back there. All because, like you said, you're my friend...whom I apparently follow like a 'lovesick puppy.'"

Sam could say nothing. Could this really be going where he feared it was going?

"And now I finally find you, only to discover that you've been using me?" Kyle said with a sad look on his face. "I made a mistake. A big mistake that night, I know, but I thought that you'd really forgiven me, that you would never hold something like that against me. I...I trusted you, Sam."

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought back as best as he could with his impaired bodily functions to the few years that had passed since the incident. It honestly had never occurred to him. He had forgiven Kyle, or at least he thought he did. Was it true? Deep down, was he actually holding it against his friend subconsciously and never realizing it. Perhaps Nightmare wasn't wrong. Maybe he was in the wrong.

"I'm sorry," he stammered.

Nightmare laughed. Crying out for sympathy now, are we? What a joke! He doesn't care! There's no one here who cares! Don't waste your last few breaths on such empty words!

Sam's heartbeat slowed. His mouth became too weak to move. Kyle's fiery eyes still stared down at him from above.

"I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm sorry for being such a rotten friend. You didn't deserve that."

"Yeah, you're right, Mr. Dramatic." He shook his head. His voice was surprisingly strong for someone breathing in as much toxic air as they were. Perhaps it was the anger giving him strength? "All this time, I always looked up to you, saw you as a role model of the type of man I so desperately wanted to be and tried to replicate that by forgiving you for last night. And this is what I get? To find out that this entire time, you've only been looking for a way to use me for your own purposes?!"

He scoffed, and Sam could suddenly make out a look of sadness in his eyes. He immediately recognized it as the same look from last night after he'd punch his friend in the face.

"Kyle, I'm…"

"No, I get it," said Kyle, anger flaring up in his voice. "You're the favorite, the one everyone here's really been wanting to see. After all, Clay did ask for you, right? You had to convince him to bring me along. And yeah, I have seen those looks of disappointment and uninterest all of Charlie's friends gave me when I showed up. You're the one everyone is interested in. I'm just the outsider who doesn't belong here, who's never had the luxury of joining the Freddy Fazbear Survivor Club by experiencing something traumatic!"

"Kyle, that's not-"

Kyle grunted in deep anger and frustration. He reached up and rubbed his cheek that was struck the previous night. "Well, you know what? Maybe it would've been better if you didn't forgive me after that fight, after all. Maybe you should've just thrown me away like a piece of trash. Sure it would've hurt, but at least then I could've eventually moved on from it rather than hang on to this false hope that our friendship had survived. Well, I'm done enabling that false hope, and I'm done enabling you. It's obvious that your sister's the one you really care about, so you can keep looking for her yourself. I'm going home." He turned and began walking away. "Since you found your own way in, you can find your own way out."

"Kyle, don't!"

"Goodbye, Sam. Tell your sister I said hi."

"No, Kyle!" Sam cried, raising a weak arm, fighting to scream it, but he didn't have the energy. "Please come back!"

But Kyle was gone, completely obscured by the smoke. It was like he was never there, to begin with.

Nightmare chuckled. I think my work here is done. Have fun with Afton and your father in hell.

And then, Sam was alone in the burning air and toxic smoke. He tried to push himself up, to take advantage of Nightmare's absence and get out before the building collapsed, but he couldn't move. The smoke was thick and overwhelming. He looked down at his hands and could scarcely make out that there was anything directly in front of him. To top it all off, his arm was still in major pain and his head felt like it wanted to explode. He vaguely remembered considering abandoning his foolish mission after he first emerged from the crash. It seemed like forever ago, now. All he had wanted more than anything was to find his sister, to prove that John wasn't lying or mad about seeing her for real, that she was somehow still alive.

None of that mattered now. In fact, nothing mattered other than the fact that he was dying. And Charlie...she wasn't here. She never was. He was more sure of that now than ever. Had it been the crash that caused him to hallucinate her? Was it the building that made her appear? Whatever the case, it didn't matter. He had been hoodwinked, and now he was surely dead.

As more of his body fell limp against the ground, he took one last look around the burning room, trying his best with his fading vision for any source of life, any source of salvation from the burning ruins, but could find none. There was no one there. He was completely alone. All he could do was reach out a weak, blackened hand into the burning air, praying that someone or something would notice.

Someone...please help me.

With a final pained cough, he closed his eyes and moved no more right as the loudest crash of all thundered against his ears.

The world was spinning. All that he saw around him was swirling blackness. His body was thrown about in the motion, his head rolling to and fro while his arms and legs kicked all around. His stomach felt sick. He wanted to vomit, but he couldn't. The ringing in his ears had grown to be so loud that he would've covered his ears had his arms been working. His entire body felt like it was finally failing completely. He prayed that the end would come soon.

This is agony. If I'm going to die, let it just be over with already!

But then it all stopped. The noise, the motions, the pain. It was all gone. He felt numb as if he were floating. After an indeterminable amount of time, he summoned the courage to open his eyes. Somehow, despite his numbness, he was standing on both feet, no pain in either leg. The world around him was blurry with details missing. Perhaps that was his eyesight playing tricks on him. As he focused, the details around him slowly began clearing up until he eventually began to recognize them. He began walking forward slowly, still wary of the newfound strength in his legs.

Each step felt like it was about to slip and fall down a deep slope, yet he remained firm. He was walking in what appeared to be his old hallway, the one from his childhood. He took a step forward and the wood creaked beneath him. He looked down at the ground and noticed it was old and almost rotting, yet it held him. He took a look around. The walls were bright and clean, almost as if they were glowing.

No way this is my old house, he thought. There are no marks from Dad's experiments.

But as he continued to study his surroundings, he noticed the old lamp that his grandmother had given his mom before she died. He saw his dad's jacket on the coat rack and his flannel shirt draped over a chair in the living room.

What is this?

The sound of laughter came from down the hall. As he approached, his stomach churned. It was his and Charlie's bedroom, and there were two children inside. He walked into the doorway and gazed down at two similar-looking children playing on the floor. One of them, a boy, had a toy truck that he had gotten and was rolling it on the ground. The other, a girl, was holding a small plush bear with a black top hat and bow tie draped around his neck. His arms and legs were stretched out like he was made for hugging. She was laughing as she watched her brother play on the floor below.

"Look at what Daddy gave me for Christmas!" she said excitedly.

"Look at mine!" he said back, reaching for his own plush rabbit.

The two showed each other their gifts once more. They had already shown each other several times, but both were too happy to care.

"Look at this, Sammy!" Charlie exclaimed excitedly as she pushed a small button on the back of her plush. The bear moved his arms and legs upward, as though excited by something. The young boy did the same with his plush and they both burst into a fit of giggling.

The adult Sam couldn't believe his eyes. He felt tears begin to gush out as he watched the scene. His mind flashed back to one of Nightmare's memories and shook his head.

It never happened, he thought with joy in his heart. The day I broke Charlie's toy and heart...it was a lie.

He couldn't help but smile tearfully at the two children as he suddenly felt himself being lifted up. A calm voice spoke in his ear.

"You're okay, Sammy. You're alright!"

REFERENCES

*This is a reference to YouTuber Markiplier's playthrough of Five Nights at Freddy's 3.

Source: watch?v=a6zmIvT7WZw&ab_channel=Markiplier&t=15m20s