The story of my life had always been a tumultuous one. From getting kicked out of nearly every high school in the state of Utah to working dead-end minimum wage jobs that lasted a few months at the most, I'd never really gotten a foothold in life. Not that it was my fault. Not entirely anyway. Fate just had a way of showing up and beating your shins in before pissing on your body as you lay in the gutter, nursing your broken bones. But nothing I experienced in my life had ever quite come close to my previous job.

Who hasn't heard of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, right? A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, blah blah, it was possible that kids who never experienced it at least once never had a true childhood. Yeah. Looking back on it, I would be totally fine without one of those. I don't want to ever have to see that damn place again. Not after what I've seen.

It must have been around October of '92 when I got hired to "join the family", as they put it. To be completely honest, I always did find it kind of odd how lenient the interviews were. Like, I've worked at McDonald's and even those guys had a higher expectation of me than Fazbear Ent. did. Then again, basically all they wanted me for was menial shit like cleaning, so I never really questioned why they expected so little of me. It made sense at the time. Besides, for an unemployed loser like me, I was gonna take any work, no matter how weird it was. And things did get very weird.

Possibly the biggest example of that was my manager. I can't remember his name after all these years, so I'll just call him David. What I do remember though, is how bizarre he was. He was thin, like really, really thin. He looked like some kinda stick figure or something of that nature. Now, mom did always raise me to not judge people's physical appearance, and he was my boss, so I let it slide. One thing I could never let go of were his mannerisms. David liked to pull pranks on those under his command. It sounds innocent enough, but his pranks got really bizarre. Shit like hiding live mice inside the mascot suits, so when the technician boys opened them up, they found a giant furry rodent launching itself at them. Another time, he let a blood-covered knife lying on the break table for any poor bastard to find. Turns out that it was just fake, but still. Looking back on it, I have no clue why nobody reported the son of a bitch to corporate. Maybe they did, but nothing was done about it.

Regardless of how creepy our boss was, I paid it no real attention. After all, none of his "pranks" targeted me in particular, so I just kept my head down and got on with my work. It wasn't the worst paying job in the world, but I was still barely getting food on my table by taking on as much overtime as possible. They were stingy bastards, that was certain to anyone who worked for them. I think there might have been a lawsuit over that a year or two back, but it was dropped pretty sharpish.

My point is that I did my job and I worked damn hard. I don't doubt that they needed me as much as I needed them for survival. Yeah, that sounds really full of it, I know. Cleaning was not an easy task. The walls were absolutely coated with all kinds of crap (I would not be surprised if some of it was crap in the literal sense) and kids are the worst. Pizza covered the floors and the tables and the ceiling, somehow. It was a nightmare. And that's not even getting onto the animatronics…

By the time, I joined up, there were just four left. Freddy, Bonnie, Foxy and Chica. There had been more when I was a kid, but things like the Marionette had long since been scrapped, probably with good reason, now that I think about it. Not that the ones we had were great. Those servos within the mascots got gunked up easily and if an accident happened during a performance, well, David made sure somebody was for the high jump. So we had to work our asses off to keep them in prime condition, which was no cakewalk. Especially not with Foxy. I sort of really liked him as a kid, to the point where he was my favourite, but the Foxy we were stuck with constantly broke down and ceased functioning. Pirate's Cove was out of order half the time, the robot behind it spazzing out, or leaking oil.

All of these made life hard, but they weren't complete deal breakers. I would have been content to continue working there until my final month. That was when things started to go very wrong. It was July of 1995, I believe, and one day, things just were very wrong. Even by Fazbear standards, it was bizarre and even unsettling. The animatronics were glitching out big time, Bonnie even tore his own face off, which did not make the kids present very happy. Once we managed to evacuate the children from the building and shut things down, it was time to figure out what was going on. David had sat us all down in front of the stage and spent the better part of an hour lecturing us about the disaster we had gone through, the robots still malfunctioning behind us all the while. So far, so Fazbear Entertainment. But what happened next, I will never get over.

David was cut off by what sounded to be some sort of liquid leaking to the stage, with a "plip, plip, plip" sound. At first, just a few people turned to the location of the noise. I ignored it at first, but eventually, my curiosity proved to get the better of me, as gasps began to rise from my co-workers. God, I wish I hadn't seen yet.

The Freddy Fazbear animatronic was leaking from the mouth. No, not oil. Something else, something far more red. You can probably see where this was going. It streaked down his belly and dripped onto the stage, a small pool of dark red blood gathering beneath him. He continued his disorientatingly jolly laugh even as the blood fell thick and fast, his mouth wide open. David sat up from his chair quite suddenly, as it fell to the ground with a clatter. His eyes seemed to be bulging and his mouth tightened at the corners, almost like he knew exactly what was going on.

Even as the others continued with their business, Freddy's head turned to directly face David as his eyes went pitch black. His mouth opened even wider, which I hadn't thought possible. It was like the two had some sort of history together. Then, he lowered his legs, as if preparing to pounce, even as a few of my fellow workers screamed and one girl even fell into my arms crying. Clearly, she couldn't handle it, and I barely could either. The worst was still to come, however…

With a squeal that turned every flowing drop of blood in my body to ice, the giant mechanical bear launched itself at David and everything seemed to be a blur. There was a helluva lot of screaming, from both David and the others. I couldn't see much from my swaying vision and the other workers blocking most of the sight, but I did see my manager's arm sliding across the floor, a trail of blood generating underneath it. I felt sick to my very stomach that night. The poor girl I was holding vomited on my lap. It was absolute chaos.

Once I got home that night, I almost immediately quit. I didn't care about money anymore; I just couldn't get away from what I had witnessed. The years passed and I truly thought the trauma from the event would pass with time. But it never did. Things never got better. My sleep would be constantly haunted by images of blood leaking from that damn stupid bear's mouth, of David's stump where his right arm had once been. The high-pitched squeal pierced my dreams like an alarm, and there was nowhere to run. There is nowhere to run. I know what I have to do. This is the only way.

The preceding note was found on the roof of the abandoned Hurricane mall within Hurricane county, Utah. It is believed to be the suicide note of one Richard Lewis, who jumped from the building shortly after writing it, on the 11th of November, 1998. Mr. Lewis was rushed to an ICU, where he died just a few minutes later. This note is considered a valuable piece of evidence in the case against Fazbear Entertainment and should not be allowed to fall into the hands of anyone outside of the department.-Officer Burke, Hurricane county police department.