The waiting would have been so much easier if I was allowed to drown myself in my own curiosity as I have many times before. I would have still felt in control of the situation. This was not the case. In fact, that bad first impression I gave off was yet one more regret to add onto my growing feeling of anxiety.

The parents, both of them, had took me to the dining room table to have a little hart-to-no-heart talk with me. They were upset with my recent behavior... the only behavior they knew of me. I didn't care. I should have. They gave me ground rules as the mother nursed her wrist with a small ice pack. I had felt as if they were treating me like a child with all of their ground rules. And there were so many. So many, that I might as well have been their child. They were incredibly restricting... Never being able to leave the house or unable to use the computer whenever I wanted and I was to treat their daughters with respect and so on and so fourth. They did not tell me to eat my vegetables or brush my teeth or take my showers or never to sneak into adult movies or even not to drink when underage.

I was annoyed and had only glared at them unblinkingly. My first choice was going to be ignoring them. That changed with all but one sentence.

"You follow our rules, or we'll call the cops."

Just like that... just with that one sentence, those nine small words, it felt as if everything had been ripped away from me. I suppose my previous anxiety was still there, just in a minute, extremely diluted form somewhere... hiding inside of me. But then and there, it burst forth as I tensed up and my animatronic hands clenched the table slightly.

There was a term I saw a multitude of times on my adventures on the internet. Hashtag Yolo. You only live once. A term used for people doing things as if there was absolutely no consequence. Those people are idiots who would have never been able to grasp my situation in the slightest. I was under fear of being disassembled, never able to move again. If I could not move, I could never be able to depart. I would still be there. Forever and ever and ever with my mind deteriorating into nothing but soot as pain continued to plague me every single second of my existence. And as you know, I could not risk it. If I was allowed on the computer that very moment, I would do my best to make everyone who ever said Yolo regret it. Painfully, if possible.

But I digress. Where was I?

Ah. Right. They threatened to call the authorities on me if I stepped out of their line.

I think I might have been trembling at that point. I only clearly remember having shook my head and casting a pleding look. They did not relent. They would not relent. I saw it in their eyes. There was a haunted animatronic sitting across from them... a damaged, tortured animatronic that had not seemed to care one ounce for them.

I hated regrets.

And then, they handed me a notebook and a pencil.

"We have time now for some more questions. We'd like you to answer them."

Oh... another interview. Unfortunately, this was one interview I would have never been able to escape, even through blank stares.

They asked stuff from the beginning. My name first.

"springtrap"

They only shook there heads. They had wanted my real name. I hesitated. What if my real name somehow lead to them finding out I was a former child murderer? In my anxiety-filled state, I admit I became a little paranoid. But I still could not refuse.

I still could not refuse.

"patrick ameth"

Then, they asked me the events leading up to my death. I was able to give the answer in much more detail this time, to my chagrin. I wrote slowly to plan out how to make myself the least suspicious. Part of that was due to the pain.

I told them that I had worked at the pizzeria. I was unsettled by the animatronics there, so I requested a shift to become a day guard. The animatronics had grew increasingly unsettling and were staring eerily at... nearly every adult. I told them that the last straw of working there was them nearly shoving me into a hybrid Golden Freddie suit. I had quit only to return in the early Nineties. I painted myself as arrogant enough to assume that the animatronics had been fixed only to fall victim to the same tactic of being stuffed into this hybrid suit.

That was very nearly one more regret. I had managed to keep my anxiety from forcing me into full panic as they had asked me to elaborate on this hybrid suit. I had hesitated once more before explaining how they worked to the best of my ability. This was the time where it was very clear to me that I had started trembling. Hyperventilating, even. But I could not stop. I was trapped under threat of dismantlement. Each word closer to explaining the exact moment of my death I had written, the harder it was to-

SNAP

I paused, then looked down to the pencil. I had broken it. My animatronic hand was clearly trembling. Dropping the remains of the pencil, I merely pushed the notebook away and put my head in my hands. I shook my head and was panting heavily. It was all I could do to keep from fully panicking. I needed the computer right now. I needed to kill, to be in control, to be at the horror attraction and try to reach the guard before he escaped, to be driving a car, to be dancing like a chicken, to do anything else but this!

Please, just make it stop!

...

I was never like this before my death. Just look at how far I fell. I sat there, in that state, for many minutes. I only snapped out of it when I had noticed a blanket wrapped around myself. Confused, I tilted my head, then looked side to side to see the parents to either side of me... surrounding me.

Trying to comfort me...?

I... I didn't know what to do at that moment. I did the only thing my instincts told me to do, I turned to the next page of the notebook and wrote one simple word.

"WHY"

They went on a whole spiel about love and comfort that I did not understand at the time. I suspected it was only pity for nearly having a full panic attack. They were still distanced. If they truly meant what they wanted to have meant, they would have been closer, wouldn't they?

Then again, your human comprehension skills reach abysmal levels when not interacting with a single one for thirty years. They apologized and said that they needed to go. The parents had also asked me to look after the kids.

The parents had also asked me to look after the kids.

I tilted my head in confusion. What was I supposed to do? I had a hard enough time trying to read the intentions of the parents. Why the kids?

I realized, as soon as their vehicles had disappeared from view, that I was alone from the kids. It would have been very easy for me to kill them and drown myself in the internet. But the parents would have came back and reported me to the authorities.

I stated earlier that the waiting was the hardest part.

I lied. What I was doing while waiting was the hardest part.