The black-and-white camera footage had reminded me of some TV media at first, but it soon lost my interest. I kept watching. I'm looking for movement, right? Nothing moved except the static on screen. It seemed that Freddy and his friends, staring blankly beyond their stage, had decided to be good robots tonight. The dull roar of the office fan and the electrical hum of every old mechanism combined together into a fuzzy white noise. My vision, an inconsistent indignation, transitioned back and forth between cameras, static, black, cameras, black, memories. Wake up! Frowning at myself, I did.

The first hour of the night passed. I tried to rummage through the file cabinets for something from Father's, but I didn't have the key. I thought about houses. Nice ones with non-creaky floors and shiny appliances. What is my ideal place to live? Dumpsters isn't on that list. What if I left Utah entirely? I don't have anything here except a bad reputation. I should buy a toaster oven.

The second hour of the night passed. Vivid images of bears and baby onesies- both lemon-gold in colour and ironically leaving pasty, sour tastes in my throat- played out behind my eyelids. Small shuffling noises entered my dreams. Crawling. Look at it go. The vent covering popped off the wall. Only when it clinked against the baseboard did I finally realise: I fell asleep again, and something's in the vent!

"Idiot!" I hissed at myself, scrambling for my flashlight. My eyes and the flashlight beam locked onto the dark vent opening. The first thing I saw was a tiny, flesh-coloured face. Irrational conclusions sprang to mind. I gritted my teeth, a cold sting deep in my body. Then I saw the eyes- big and yellow and robotic. They stared down at me in intense scrutiny.

"I've been sent here to beg," claimed a puny, slightly-monotonous voice. I relieved the pressure in my muscles. It's just a robot baby. This one I recognised as the new Bab that tagged along with the others because of the good ol' house fire incident. And that red bowtie fastened around its neck. How many Bidybabs were there?

"Please let us stay with you," the new Bab said.

"St-tay where?" I couldn't hold back the scoff, hating that now-natural vocal fluctuation.

"Stay. With. You," it enunciated, at which I wrinkled my nose. Attitude. I'm not taking any more responsibility. I'm not anybody's father. Movement on the cameras distracted me from responding. Just a flicker, or a trick of the light, perhaps? Was Bonnie always looking in that direction?

The Bidybab shimmied out of the vent, sending its naked body crashing onto the desk. Old cups and papers flew everywhere.

"Hey!" I cried. As it jumped to its feet, the Bidybab effectively blocked the computer terminal.

"Let's start over," began the robot child with a faint smile on its plastic lips. "Hello, Michael." It waved then paused, expecting me to wave back. I did, albeit unenthusiastically.

"Hi."

"I took the liberty of naming myself so you wouldn't have to. So, I'm Electro. I'm a boy," he announced with a proud fist-swing. I gave a thin smile and a half-sarcastic, "Congratulations." I gestured past the Bab's legs. "Well, I have a job to do, Electro, so you c-can, uh, scat." He did not. I slid the robot child aside.

"Chelsea misses you," he pointed.

"I don't care," I returned. A heavy weight seeped into my neck. I'm lying. I looked back to the terminal, and Electro blocked it again.

"Keep telling yourself that. They told me the way you cared for them. Why can't you do it again?"

I folded my arms. "Because."

"Because what?"

Through the gap between the Bidybab's legs, I saw yellow shifting. My focus snapped onto this new movement. Is that Chica? She abandoned the others on the stage. My skin chilled with intrigue and maybe a little anxiety. Oh, she's coming to get me.

Electro repeated, "Because what?" I shoved his face out of mine, grating my teeth.

"Because nothing."

Freddy was alone now. I swore under my breath and flipped through the various camera angles. There, in the dark corner of a party room, the purple rabbit joined the chicken. They simply stood. Loitering.

What are they doing? I wondered, narrowing my eyes. Either the camera distortion was awful or their mouths were moving. What would they be talking about? Politics? The latest cartoon?

"Okay," Electro broke my concentration once more, "I will go back outside. Outside. In the cold. Where it's cold. The cold outside." I rolled my eyes, not bothering to see him out. Where do you think I sleep? I cycled through the cameras. My finger tapped the buttons every few seconds. I wasn't really absorbing any visual information. I just needed to get this shift done.

The clunking of feet sounded down the hallway. I flung myself to my feet, and the swivel chair spun around to smack my calves. Bonnie! One glance at the camera told me that he wasn't there. Huh? The footsteps got closer. I took a peek, then promptly shut the door on a furry belly. Everything froze, save for the stupid fan. I switched it off to fully listen. Seconds passed. A slight tapping sent a chill through my sleeves. Bonnie's shadow knocked on the window. Upon glancing at the door controls, I noticed the button that controls the light. This is why we listen to instructions. I pressed the button. My body tensed at the weak falter of light illuminating the purple animal's features in a discombobulated glow. I expected a convulsion for half a second. This isn't a controlled shock. It's a light. Bonnie smiled with his chunky, lusterless teeth. I did not return the gesture.

What would he do if he caught me? my mind pondered. The electronic white noise slunk into my ear, threatening to lull me to sleep once more. Fear and exhaustion clammed up my hands. I shifted my gaze to the computer. POWER: 78%. The urge to snooze instantly vanished.

"What?!" I exclaimed. I rushed to turn off the light and opened the door. Bonnie's mouth lurched toward me with the shriek that spewed out. Swearing, I slammed the door shut. I almost laughed at my own scared, rabbit-rapid reflexes. The power level continued to tick down. My eyes darting between screen, door, and pitch-black window, I remained motionless in the centre of the security office.

IS he gone yet? I thought after what seemed like decades. My question was answered when the sound of thick, rhythmic breaths droned through the metal door. Is that… breathing? It stopped my own. Why do robots need to breathe?! Yet another question I'd have to ask my father if I ever saw him again.

Eventually, echoes of clomping, heavy feet bounded down the hall. I let out a long, maybe exaggerated sigh. Finally! For cautionary measures, I checked the window. The light shined through a foggy spot on the glass, bringing attention to what looked like an awkwardly-shaped… smiley face? I relieved the door of its duties seconds later. That smiley face was NOT there before. My mind drew the imagery of a big rabbit's paw slowly trying to form the shape of a smile. My lips gave in to a little smile. How stupid. But who else could have drawn that?

Only when I finally sat down did a yellow chicken decide to wander down the opposite hallway. I watched her on the camera feed, leaning into the screen to see better. A glitch disabled the feed for a second, and Chica disappeared. I snapped to my feet once more. Where? She travelled past the camera's blindspot and stomped her way to the right doorway. BAM! The door shook as it made contact with the floor. I checked the window.

"You're all alone now," Chica observed, her voice muffled through the glass. "Where is your little friend? She was so much fun!" A familiar weak fit blanketed me at that mention. I squeezed the desk edge. Repressed, unmanaged feelings I stuffed deep down into the far parts of my mind, where forgotten memories liked to drift further away. It's just a distraction.

"G-get out of here!" I growled in a pained yell. Chica seemed unfazed by my louring finger. But she left eventually. And thus, the game began: Bonnie and Chica kept testing me, going up to the door and smiling, taunting me; using their happy voices meant for greeting children and announcing birthday parties to ask triggering, gut-wrenching questions. All the while, the power levels fell.

It's fine. You can do this, I tried a little encouragement. I palmed my temples and gritted my teeth. No more getting unreasonably scared or angry. I needed to finish this. And I did. It was strange- I let up the doors, the animatronics jumped out at me, then the clock struck six a.m.. And they just stopped; they ceased all motion as if I'd just hit the STOP on the VCR. Their eyes shifted from malice-glazed stares to blank, empty gazes. Bonnie and Chica returned to their stages. Without a word.

I checked the cameras one last time to be sure. There they were. It was as if the night never happened, and I would have believed that if I didn't see the dawn growing over the tables. I left the office.

I did it, I acknowledged blankly. The first night. Unfortunately, no dry assistant or best friend was here to celebrate with me. And I couldn't even watch TV, either. I sighed. Foxy's curtain swayed ever so subtly in my peripheral vision. But I declined the notion that anything was active behind it. It's morning now.

Before I exited the building, I scanned the shadows and the corners. No evil fathers. No foxes. No Puppets. No babies. No Minireenas, even. No yellow bears.

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I looped around the pizzeria, eyeing the old dumpster by the back door. Okay, time to hibernate. I gripped my bag and contemplated how I wanted to sleep. The more I stared at that zone by the dumpster, the more static screeched in my senses. Rain. Stripes. My arms tensed. I hugged them together. These memories are not mine. I cast them away, but I couldn't rid myself of the pressure gripping my body. A deadly embrace. The pain centred in my back. They're not mine. I left Freddy's. I had to.

I'll give it five nights. Then I'll have to think about alternative ways to find Father or clues. Would someone know of his whereabouts? He couldn't have done everything alone. No way.

A local business with a modest parking lot would have to do. I slunk behind the bushes. The dry grass crunched underneath my sneakers.

I need to get those file cabinets open. I should break them. I'm pretty strong, I think-

Rounding the corner too fast, I fell into a stack of boxes. Every corner wanted to catch my body. I shimmied upright. It's fine- just get up before someone- The door burst open, and a security guard bounded forward on his heels.

"HA!" he exclaimed. "I knew someone would be back here! Scram, you homeless-" He then got a good look at who he was yelling at. His confident stature immediately falted. "AHH!" I was too tired to be polite; I forced a bitter, "Hey, I'm not here t-to eat you or anything, I just-" The guard's legs crumpled. Oh. His curly blond hair slapped against the pavement. I crouched next to him. A few pushes sufficed to get him onto his back. Red splotches painted his forehead.

"Oh, man," I mumbled, my throat hardening. I didn't mean to. Dread crawled across my shoulder blades, and I tore my gaze away. I inspected the rest of the guy's body. No nametag. Must be new? That's when I noticed the taser on his belt. I grinded my back teeth. I could take it. I popped a glance or two behind me. But that's stealing. Twinges of guilt and more dread ripped apart the tape-skin of my back. I swallowed and nabbed the taser gun. I've done worse. Rising to my feet, I wagged the taser around like an action hero. I couldn't figure out how to twirl it on my finger, unfortunately. The trigger snapped into my grasp on accident. BZZTT! My entire frame froze up instantly, my spine flying upright and my fingers jutted out. No! I waited for the shock. Several minutes passed. I was still on my feet.

I didn't get shocked, I concluded. With that, my muscles softened. I stuffed the taser in my bag. The poor guard at my feet began to mumble and stir. I blinked out of my daze. Oh, yeah! I darted away, ducking back to the shadows aside.

"Ah! I'm alive! Th-the Purple Guy didn't kill me!" the security man laughed in relief. "Oh, my- oh- Amelia is not gonna believe this! I- I gotta go- I gotta pee, I gotta pray- oh my- oh, my head…" The door shut after his footsteps trailed away. I left when the coast was clear.

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The sun was a red-orange dot sitting awkwardly in the midst of a cloudy blue. I figured it was maybe after seven- maybe almost eight? Autumn wind greeted me once more, biting inside my clothes. I'd found a place to settle for the "night"- a semi-abandoned little burger shop's cardboard hoard. I worked to build an inconspicuous cardboard shelter, and a prideful smile found its way to my face when I finished it. Look at me being resourceful.

I dumped everything out of my bag: Holly's old makeup kit, a pair of scissors, some jewellery that I intended to pawn off, two keys to Freddy's, the flashlight, the newly-acquired taser gun, my uniform, random bits of scrap metal, some duct tape, my journal and pen, and wads of dollars I'd gathered from selling dumpster junk. I counted the money- it took an embarrassingly long amount of time.

I could maybe afford a room… but I really need a new jacket. I can't get the puke or the blood smells out of it. Laundry is a no.

I weighed options in my head for another half hour. Then I hugged my thin, somehow-still-intact body, trying to trap what little warmth I could generate inside. Let's see what the week's paycheck will do. Hopefully, Freddy's pays more than Circus Baby's. Before I let myself get some shut-eye, I documented today's happenings in the journal.