It was definitely fun. He swore at me when I did not stop staring at him. And I don't have to blink anymore. Just unending staring. He wanted me to stop, but I did not. And every time he threatened to kick me out and just leave me, I would only remind him that he had to have some ulterior motive to bring me to his apartment. Kicking me out would not fulfill that ulterior motive.
Though, I could not help but wonder why exactly he wanted me to come over to his apartment. Little did I know, the fun would soon stop and I would go back to being this unsure, jumpy, pathetic excuse for a serial killer.
He set me up in his closet. I noticed it had Foxy's hook in it before darkness overtook me. Apparently. I was supposed to wait in a closed closet for something...
For something...
An urge arrived. I contemplated killing him with that hook in the most painful way imaginable. But where to strike first...? The the throat? The spine? Or perhaps... the frontal lobe? If I did the last option, I could very much leave him alive. Jeremy certainly survived.
I decided to pick the hook up and exit the closet, only to be met with someone missing. Mike Schmidt was not there. And that was when things turned awkward for me. I was deflated near the moment where I would have regained my glory. However...
However...
His computer was still on. And I was in pain. Put two and two together and you get me trying to distract myself from the pain by examining his computer.
He was uploading a video to Youtube. The title of that video?
July 23, 2026 - Springtrap Is With Me. Fuck You All.
My first thought? Has it really been three years since I was bought by that family? My second... Well, I just had to find the video that was saved on his computer. And I learned a lot about computers in three years.
"Why did so many of you request that I let Springtrap make a fucking vlog on my computer I hate my life I hate my liiiiife!"
It was a video of him explaining his day, and that he'd try to get me repaired enough to be able to talk. However... My mind jumped to his subscriber count number. It... was higher than two million. I was going to be watched by two million people. I did not feel confident at all anymore. I was... I was back to square 1. How I was before my first hallucination with the mother. What the fuck is wrong with me? I could feel anger bubbling up within me... but it never was able to get past that wall of unbreakable apprehension.
Please... Just let me scream. Let me smash the walls. Let me break down doors and terrorize everyone! Let my urges come again! I don't want to be nervous! I don't want to be Patrick Ameth! I just wanted to be the world's most feared animatronic to ever exist!
But I was still nervous and jumpy. With frustration, I let my face drop on the keyboard and emitted a painful yet quiet wail.
Mike came back a while later with a bunch of tools. He had me lay down on the floor and told me to go to sleep. I shook my head. I could not go to sleep. I was awake. I was always awake.
"...You know what, fuck it. Fine. Your funeral, bunny bitch balls bastard."
In a huff, he began his work on me. And as it turns out, he did not care for my well-being at all. He was rough and intense spikes of pains ran through my body as he poked and prodded and pushed and turned and twisted his tools all over and inside of me. It was as if those springlocks were snapping into place all over again.
And then something magnificent had happened... for the first time in 30 years, I would have never imagined I would get to experience one particular sensation ever again...
Unconsciousness.
But when I woke up, I remember everything was bleary and felt... off. When I move, I felt a little sluggish. Slow... Everything felt unfamiliar. What had Mike done to me? With a grunt, I pushed myself off off the floor as best as I could, shifting off of my back and onto my front and arms, and gazed into darkness. It was all-consuming blackness, stretching out forever. Where... where was I?
I reached out into the darkness, trying to feel around for anything that wasn't invisible floor. I... I needed to escape this darkness. I needed to find something, anything that wasn't darkness! But... Dizziness filled my being. I had to crawl... I needed to drag myself around with my arms. It seems that were the parts of my body that were cooperating with me the most.
Seconds had passed before I had felt an invisible wall in front of me. A wall... So there was a limit to this darkness. I intended to find out that limit. It took minutes, but I eventually made my way up to standing. And I was panting... I felt weak. I needed to press on through that weakness to sate my own curiosity. Slowly, I lifted one leg up slightly, moving it sideways, and then the other leg. One leg, then the other.
One leg, then the other.
Slowly but surely, I had made my way around the room. And what I had felt frightened me. I was trapped in a small space. There were no doors at all. Just four small walls. I started panicking. Did they actually seal me back up again in the...
...in the room I was trapped in for thirty years!?
No... No, it couldn't be...! I burnt the damn place to the ground! But I... I remember! This is exactly how large the room is! Why? Why an I here!? Why am I fucking here!?
With all my strength, I started bashing at the wall. I had to escape again. This couldn't be happening. Just lET me OUT Of hERe!
Over and over again, pushing past the sluggishness and weakness, I bashed the walls harder and harder. Frantic bashing and frantic bashing and frantic bashing, for what seemed like a forever of minutes! But my effort was not in vain! I had punched a hole in the wall! There was light! With hope surging through me, I continued to make the wall crumble. More and more, I tore away in a berserk panic of escape. Until...
Until I stumbled out of the hole I made. Panting, I looked around. And where was I, you ask?
Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.