I can't stand a story that is all sad and nothing else. I don't want this story to be depressing and have nothing happy in it. As it is, this chapter is pretty upsetting, but I am working to finish the next chapter, which will be much nicer. Hopefully it will be done by tomorrow, as I have free time to type on the weekends. I don't think I said it before, but I appreciate that you readers have taken time to review this story and give me feedback. Really, it means a lot to me so thank you.
Timothy was turning nine. Fredbear's had been sold, but it wasn't going to officially close and have the new company start moving in until Sunday. Saturday was Timothy's birthday party.
Timothy didn't seem excited about it, though. Nathaniel didn't blame him. It was as if Henry had a yearly quota of torturing his brother that he was rushing to fill. Watching him was awful, but Nathaniel felt that not being able to do anything to stop Henry was worse.
It was almost the day of the party. Nathaniel was aimlessly floating around the storage room, bored. Suddenly, the door opened. Henry shoved his brother into the room. Going through the wall, Nathaniel saw the older boy lock the door with a set of keys he had probably taken from his father's office. Then he sat down at a table next to the door and covered his ears to the screams. After a moment, he threw his hands up, stood up from his seat, gave the storage room's door a kick, and then walked away looking immensely annoyed. Nathaniel wanted nothing more than to smack him across the face, but he knew he'd just phase right through, unnoticed.
Instead, Nathaniel went back through the wall into the storage room. Timothy was curled up by the door, squeezing his favorite plush and crying. "Fredbear is my friend. Tomorrow is another day. Fredbear is my friend. Tomorrow is another day," he whispered to himself over and over, as if saying those words would make bring him comfort. Nathaniel sat down next to him. Just as he couldn't hurt Henry, he could do nothing to make Timothy feel better.
"You're going to be fine. That Henry, he'll get what he deserves. It won't always be this bad," he said, though he knew his words wouldn't do anything to help. He sat there for a while. Timothy had stopped crying. He glanced over. The little boy was fast asleep. At least, thought Nathaniel, nothing can torment him while he's resting. Perhaps it was better that Nathaniel didn't know about the nightmares.
Nathaniel watched Timothy draw a picture of Fredbear on a flower. It was a little bit strange, but Timothy didn't seem to want anything to do with the other children. His guests, all the kids from his class, didn't show any signs of wanting to play with him, either.
Unable to pull out a chair, Nathaniel sat down on the table. Timothy looked genuinely happy, a rare sight. He smiled at the younger boy. He hoped the kid turned out ok.
Nathaniel looked up. Across the room, Henry and a group of other teens were talking and pointing at Timothy. They were all wearing crudely made masks of the Freddy's characters. "Come on, kid, turn around. Get out of here. I think there's going to be trouble," Nathaniel warned Timothy, knowing it would do nothing to help. The little boy kept drawing happily, completely unaware of his danger. Nathaniel watched the nightmare unfold.
Timothy kicked and screamed, his head caught in Fredbear's mouth. Henry and his friends laughed. The party guests played on, oblivious to any trouble. Their talking and laughter helped drown out the trapped boy's screams.
"Somebody help this kid!" shouted Nathaniel. Where were parents at a time like this? "Please! Come on, is there anybody who cares?! Just get this kid away from that monster!" And Fredbear granted his wish.
The older boys stopped laughing. The partying children continued playing, completely unaware of what had just happened. But there was one moment of dead, horrified silence among Henry and his friends. Then one of them screamed and jumped on stage to pry Fredbear's jaws open. Timothy fell out, limp and covered in blood. "Don't be dead, kid, please don't be dead. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh I'm sorry I didn't mean it I'm sorry. Please don't be dead I didn't wish for you to die," Nathaniel cried. The purple glow appeared around his hands. It appeared around Timothy and Fredbear. "No! I can't do that again!" he shouted, remembering how the bird he had resurrected had flapped its unfamiliar arms, trapped in an unwieldy body. He couldn't imagine Timothy going through the same thing, not after what he'd already been through. The glow didn't disappear, but it lessened.
The place had cleared. The ambulance had come and gone and Fredbear was off being cleaned. Nathaniel had tried to chase after it to see what would become of poor Timothy, but it zoomed well ahead of him. Soon it had disappeared from his sight and he could no longer hear its sirens. Tears in his eyes, he made his way back to the diner. Timothy hadn't known that the other boy had existed, but for Nathaniel, it was as if a bright piece of the world was gone.