Disclaimer: I own zilch

I sighed as I looked at the picture. I had been dusting, and suddenly stopped as I saw the old picture of Mike. He was about five in it, and he looked so…different. So much happier. He was grinning big, showing a braces-filled smile, and his hair was light brown instead of gray. His eyes were so full of life…the complete opposite of the young man currently sleeping upstairs. I let out a heavy sigh as I put the picture back down.

I think it goes without saying that every parent dreads their children's teenage years and wishes that they could just go back to when they were small and cute…but not every parent can say that it's their own fault their child got so broken. The best thing I ever did for Mike was fight to keep him when his father wanted to abort him.

We were young, Victor had said. We had our whole lives ahead of us, why let one stupid mistake ruin it? I remember how shocked and appalled I had been. Yes, neither of us had planned it-but it was still a human life! Our CHILD'S life! He used every line in the book to try and get me to change my mind, but I was adamant. Finally, Victor grudgingly accepted that my mind was made up. Our wedding was small-just my parents, a couple of friends, the priest, and us. Saying that it wasn't the wedding of my dreams would be an understatement. Then when Mike was born a few months later, Victor just glared at his son, our baby, like he was a piece of trash. I knew right then and there that this-US, it wasn't going to work. I was desperate enough to plead for us to try for a second child, but it was fruitless. I was trapped in a loveless marriage with two children I had no idea how to care for.

I was nineteen, Mike's age, when I heard Victor yelling at him for the first time. I remembered the reason too-Mike had accidentally spilled his apple juice on the floor. I remembered how shocked I was to hear him calling him a 'stupid little shit' to his face, and Mike's baby cries afterwards. I wanted to go in and tell him to stop…but I couldn't move. I'd never heard Victor that angry before…and it scared me. It only got worse from there. Whenever Victor had had a particularly bad day at work, or was in a bad mood otherwise, he'd take it out on poor Mike. The next time he'd been really angry at Mike was when he'd come home with a 'D' on his math test when he was seven.

"Look at this!" Victor had screamed. "LOOK! What kind of idiot can't do a few simple problems?! Do you go out of your way to look stupid?!"

"N-no, Dad!" Mike sniffed.

"Stop your sniveling." Victor had hissed. "Men don't cry. Pathetic." I could practically hear the sneer in his voice, and it frightened me.

Then, of course, there was the incident on his tenth birthday. The first time his abuse had taken the shift from merely verbal and emotional to physical. We'd come home from the hospital after learning that they'd have to keep Fritz overnight. I was downstairs cleaning up…and then I'd heard the sound of conflict. A 'thud' came from above me, followed by Victor screaming at Mike about how he was a failure as a big brother, how he should've protected his sister and not left her to be attacked by that fox robot.

I knew it was a lie. While Victor never abused Fritz in any way, he hardly ever paid attention to her. Mike was his target. Mike was the one who had ruined his life. Now he just had an excuse to hurt our son. But by that point, Mike was so shell-shocked by the trauma that he barely noticed. The years went by. As Mike grew older, I saw the life drain more and more from his eyes. He'd been battered, broken, become little more than an empty shell thanks to all the abuse that was heaped on him.

And I did nothing.

"I'm a horrible mother." My eyes filled with tears as the realization fully sunk in. What kind of mother keeps on letting her child go through all of that without ONCE thinking to call the police, just because she's scared of her own husband?! I'd fought to keep Mike, why couldn't I stand up to his father again after he'd been born?!

"Mom, we still have spare light bulbs in the basement?" I froze at the voice. Slowly, slowly, I turned around, seeing him in front of me. My nineteen-year-old baby who'd long given up on life. He raised an eyebrow as he saw my tears.

"Mom?" Before I could stop myself, I flew to Mike, throwing my arms around him.

"Oh, Mike!" He didn't hug me back. I didn't expect him to. For a few moments, there was quiet, except the sound of my sobbing.

"Alright, I give up." Mike finally said. "Where are the hidden cameras?"

"Mike," I sobbed. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so, sorry!"

"You're sorry?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

"All these years…I should've left your father long ago. Taken you and your sister far, far, away, given you a better life…things could've been so different. You could've been happy." I let Mike go and looked at him. His eyes were as cold as his voice as he said

"Nineteen years and you apologize now?" I sobbed a little more.

"Mike…"

"Mom," he started, never raising his voice, "Do you know what I do at Freddy Fazbear's every night?"

"Y-you're the night guard?" I hiccoughed.

"That's my job title." He said. "Do you know what I do?" I shook my head, not understanding. Dread filled my stomach.

"I try and stay alive." Mike answered. "They come after me at nights. The animatronics. Until recently, all of them except one have been trying to get me, so they could stuff me in a suit. I could have died, over and over again. Night after night, I risk my life just by going in to work. I've actually come pretty close to dying a couple times-including last night."

I felt lightheaded.

"Mike…I don't understand…"

"It's different now." Mike continued. "I've been lucky enough to live long enough so that I've gotten most of them on my side, and now only Bonnie is still trying to kill me." He sighed. "Still though-it's jarring to think about. How many times I've almost died now. But you want to know something? Even if all of them were still trying to kill me, I'd keep going back." He leaned over, getting in my face so I could see his lifeless eyes. "Do you want to know why, Mom?"

"W-why?" I asked, feeling weak.

"Because facing killer robots every night STILL isn't as scary as coming home afterwards."

And with that, he walked off. I sunk down into a chair, thinking of everything he'd said.

The robots were trying to kill him? What was he talking about? Was this real? Was he trying to scare me? I couldn't blame him if he was. I let out a shaky breath, burying my face in my hands.

Whatever Mike was going through…I just hoped he'd be alright. He obviously didn't want my help; I could only hope it wasn't too late.

I just didn't know if it was for him to get out if things got too dangerous, or for one of us to save our little broken family.

A/N: Yeah, that was depressing. Felt it was kind of necessary though-a chance to see things from Mike's mom's point of view. Welp, not much to say here except review, please.