I lay in my bed, restless and scared trying to get Bonnie's story out of my head.
What to do…what to do..?
Maybe I could film Freddy attacking me and show it on the internet and then….
What about a video of Bonnie and Foxy confessing what has been happening at the restaurant so…
I could… ask Sandy for help…
Maybe I can meet Ron's dad… and…and…God damn it why can't I come up with something?
Rolling in my bed doesn't help me to clear my mind, so I close my eyes again and fall asleep, but I wake up again after seeing what I imagine Claire looked like being stabbed repeatedly. I notice how cold my hands are.
I stand up and put in a green hoodie, black jeans and a pair of brown sneakers, maybe taking a walk will work. The city is almost empty, as if it was a ghost town, I take this opportunity to just run without a specific direction trying to escape from reality feeling the wind on my face. My body starts to get tired, my legs start to hurt but for some reason I won't stop.
Fainted images from my bad dreams come up to me, I run faster. Blood everywhere, a horrifying scream and a man collapsing to the ground without part of his head. My legs have become numb, there is no pain anymore. There are voices coming from everywhere, like if they were judging me in one way or another, they all know who I am, they all know what I've seen, and they all pity me. People say I'm emotionally scarred and that my life will never be normal.
Years spent alone sitting in a corner refusing to talk, that's how I became a "poor little girl" who saw way too much, and that wishes she could forget.
Am I running away from home to the forest?
I twisted my ankle and suddenly fell to the ground, I lay there motionless. My legs start to hurt and I'm unable to move them, the voices from earlier now surround me becoming higher…and higher…and higher. I cover my ears with my hands and close my eyes, I want to die here.
I start crying, I'm scared of what is going to happen, and scared of my past.
Fuck Freddy.
Then my eyes are open and there is no one around me and I'm in a park.
…
I took a long cold shower which relaxed my muscles and washed off my mind. There are bruises on my legs, arms and face. I think I fell asleep for some minutes.
After putting on some clothes I decide to visit Freddy's, maybe Foxy will come up with something.
The way to the restaurant is way longer than usual, the day is hot as hell and my head hurts. A lot.
I finally get there, the parking lot is almost full so I hardly find an empty slot, it looks like it is someone's birthday wich brings back so many memories. My theory is confirmed when I walk in the restaurant and see a lot of kids running around. I see Bonnie playing with a small group of children, he notices me and I say hi to him, he waves at me.
Is he really helping me now, or is he just playing with me?
Anyways, I walk slowly in search of the Pirate's Cove. My hearth almost jumps out of my chest.
He's not there, why is he not there?
His plushy sits where he used to, I take it and hug it. What if Freddy somehow killed him too, or if he was thrown away, or if he was reprogrammed. My worries start to grow and I think of all the worst scenarios that could happen.
The cameras.
I can see what happened exactly by watching the video, the only problem is the day shift guard. I've never meet him before and I don't think he'll let me check the cameras that easily.
I run to the security room and find it empty, there is a backpack and a bunch of books piled up in a corner, so the guard must be working. I take the viewer, there is an option that allows you to re-watch the video, I see myself leaving the Pirate's Cove, I fast-forward most of the recording until a man appears, he opens the curtains and Foxy stands up and leaves with him.
"Ok, calm down. He left by his own will, right?"
Walking down the Dinner room I find Sandy, who is very busy bringing a birthday cake to a table. She doesn't see me.
Knock Knock.
Ron opens his office's door and tells me to come in, he goes behind his desk while I sit in down.
-So, Jodie, right?
-Yeah…
-What brings you here?
-Do you know by any chance where is Foxy?
Ron gives me a curious look.
-He is being repaired, it is planned to put him back on stage in two or three weeks.
-Oh… Do you think it will...work?
-Why do you ask, I thought you trusted him.
I look at the ground and try to come up with something to say.
-Well, he kind of helped me…
-Weird, he wouldn't do such a thing with other employees, unless you're-
-Stop dancing around it, you know who I am, right?
-I was certainly not expecting you to work here.
-I think the same about you…
There is a big silence, he scratches his head while yawning. He takes a pen and writes down something on a piece of paper.
-Well, my father retired some months ago and I really needed a job.
-That figures.
He hands me what he just wrote, it is a direction.
-Your friend should be there.
…
"Chuck's Garage" is located between a bakery and a boutique; it has been there for at least 20 years. The owner is a short chubby man, the same one I saw earlier walking out the restaurant with Foxy, I know the man because my father would bring most of the broken things here to get repaired.
I enter and a small bell announces my entrance, the smell of oil is quite strong.
The counter is full of mechanical parts and newspapers, there is plenty of stuff here like clocks or old TVs stuck in place collecting dust.
-Hello, is anyone here?
There is no reply, I look over my shoulder to make sure the local is alone, and then I go around the counter quickly, there is a wooden door at the other end of the room, I open it slowly.
-Hey there, lass.
Foxy is laying down with his lower body unattached to him, tools and pieces of him spread everywhere, this looks quite creepy.
-What the hell are you doing here?
-Nothing, just visiting an old friend.
He looks relaxed and comfortable being here, maybe I exaggerated too much this time, I would like to let him rest but I really need to come up with a plan.
-Everything is going to end tomorrow.
-What do ya mean?
-I mean, my work ends this weekend.
-Yer quitting?
-I am, but not without leaving our common friend a special gift. I smile in a cynical way.
(AN: Hi.)