I had failed.

"What the f- heck!? It can move?"

The parents had woken up. I quickly glanced over to the parents. They were looking at me with horror and surprise. They would send me off to be dismantled unless I had control of the situation. There was no escape now, but the least I could have done was make things as smooth as myself as possible. With a pained hiss, I lunged at the child, picking her up. With one arm, I covered up the mouth and positioned myself so my hostage was now in full view.

The expressions of the parents turned into concern and worry. I noticed one of them had a flat, black thing in their hand, possibly to try and throw at me. In order to make myself known as in control, I throttled the child a small little and shook my animatronic head. The child had squealed, but that was not my main concern.

"...What do you want with our child, you... thing?"

Nothing. She was only a hostage so I could keep you quiet.

So I shook my head. Conveying what I want is difficult without the ability to speak without intense pain. But I like to think I managed very well by pointing at the two parents, quickly adding in a point to the child, before making a shush gesture and then pointing at myself. Everyone must keep quiet about me.

I made one more shush gesture to make sure they know to keep quiet.

"You want us... to keep quiet about you...?"

I nodded. What followed was a few seconds of silence, followed with some very careful negotiations. I, of course, got what I wanted. They had agreed not to talk about me anymore and sent their child back to her bed. And then the interviewing came. I did not have time for this, but I knew it was best to placate them. Mike Schmidt would have to wait.

They asked me a plethora of questions. I lied to the best of my ability, of course. They never put it together that I was a former child murderer. They only knew what I told them... that I was once employed by Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria and that I died while in this suit. They, of course, heard stories. So many stories. The father was nauseated and annoyed and vaguely uninterested, but still questioned me nonetheless. The mother? She was all over me. Obsessed. Perhaps unhealthily so. She kept on asking questions I could not answer. I just stared at many of the questions. She had started to get that I didn't have the strength to answer them thoroughly and completely without merely making gestures around the third hour.

The father had wanted to call the police a couple times, but the mother talked him out of it. Strange how he kept on reaching for that flat black box.

But they still now knew about one of my secrets. This was going to make it all the more difficult for me. And I couldn't go out after all of that had happened. It was far too late, and the father just kept on waking up before I could make any move. Each hour that passed just made the day get lighter.

Soon... it was morning. Fuck me. Anxiety started creeping into me by the time it was morning. There was the lingering thought that they would get the authorities and send me off to be disassembled, no matter what I did. Even if I pleaded and begged, even if I talked, even if I felt regret for killing those children and trying to atone for it. I became... jumpy. I just wanted out. That was all.

I had the urge to take a child hostage for a split second once again when the mother roused from her sleep. I did say I became jumpy. What she did next was... confusing.

She led me by the arm... forced me to take a tour of the house as she explained things and how things worked. And then she took me to the kitchen and ordered me to wait. I obeyed... only to have been met with a meal I could not eat. I tilted my head at her inquisitively. How did she expect me to eat.

"It's only polite to offer a guest to a meal."

I am a former-child-murderer-turned-haunted-animatronic and I get treated to some manners? I... admit I don't deserve them. I'm not human anymore. I rejected the meal with a shake of my head and went on over to their computer. I was about to turn it on when the father yelled at me. An extended stare had shut him up. ...Ha. Looks like I finally found a perk to being a zombie animatronic. My intimidation factor was all that needed to be said about me. He left in a huff. murmuring hatred toward me under his breath.

I only needed to let Mike know that something had came up and I would be able to make it tonight. I was about to send the email when the mother came in and started to yell at me and whack me with her hand.

"That was you!? All of that was you!? You could've just asked! We had to reinstall Windows twice because of you!"

This was annoying, but didn't add to the pain at all. I grasped her hand firmly with an agitated, pained hiss. I could so easily snap this hand. Instead, I merely glared. She sighed, shook her head, and finally left me alone.

I realized then that I was making a bad first impression to them all. I didn't care. I had only one goal in mind, and nothing would stop me. So what if they hated me or if they were frustrated with or scared of me? I'm just an animatronic with a soul unable to depart until freed.

And animatronics don't deserve any kindness.

The only thing I could do now is wait until night. Just one more day of pain. Just one more day of being in hell.

The waiting was the hardest part.