This one is an extremely short chapter but I wanted to upload something for you guys. Besides, I thought it would be better as its own chapter considering what happens next.

Almost a week had passed since Michael had brought home that smelly old animatronic he had taken from that abandoned building. He had kept it locked up in the garage, due to its smell, until he would feel like taking it apart. But it was only two days after he had brought it home that he began to feel a bit paranoid.

He lived alone, but now he often felt as if there was some other presence beside himself in his home. As if, something was watching him…waiting. Every now and again, usually at night, he swore that he could hear a voice from somewhere and would end up tearing apart his entire house in an attempt to locate the source, only to end up slamming open the garage door just as the voice would go silent. The most disturbing part was that when he could actually make out words, it said horrible things like "dead," "dying," "bleeding," and something about children. Sometimes it would just sound like laughter.

No, the worst part was actually the dreams. When Michael could finally relax enough to fall asleep, he would have these atrocious dreams. Nightmares really. He was never entirely sure what they were about, but he remembered hearing children scream and seeing blood oozing from animatronic jaws. And then they always ended with the vivid feeling of his bones snapping and twisting as something locked into place around his body before he would finally wake up in a cold sweat.

Each passing night, the dreams became more vivid and rememberable, the voice became clearer, and his paranoia grew more unbearable. He no longer took phone calls or went outside during the day. His already messy hair had become completely unkempt and he often found himself squatting in the corner and clutching his head so tightly that he thought that it might cave in between his fingers. Finally, it had become too much.

"Shut up already!" he shouted suddenly from his corner. The voice silenced itself. He took several deep breaths, relishing the momentary silence before addressing the voice again. "Who are you? What do you want from me!?"

There was a very long pause. So long, in fact, that he felt very angry for a brief moment. "Come to me, Michael…" the voice said.

He had wanted to ask where, but his body had already stood and began to walk towards the door to the garage. Michael twisted the doorknob and allowed the door to slowly open on its own. He had begun keeping all of the lights off in his house, so the only source of light was a curtained window behind him that tried its best to illuminate the pitch-black garage. Sitting on the other side of the garage, directly across from the door, was that ugly, smelly old rabbit. It was sitting in a position that Michael had not left it; almost completely upright with its back against the garage door and its head tilted politely to the side as it stared with half-closed eyes at the floor.

"What do you want?" Michael's voice shook. Was he really talking to this thing? Was he losing his mind? Was it really... "Get out of my head!"

"You're the one who invited me in…" the rabbit did not move, but Michael had no doubt now of where the voice was coming from. "Besides…I'm not such a bad guy. YoU saID so YOUrself."

He shivered. The voice…he hated that voice. A broken, angry, familiar voice that played on politeness with a hint of foul intent. "Who are you!? What are you!?" He was really standing here screaming at a robot.

"Who…WhAT? I may look different, but I assure you... It'S sTIll mE."

"What?"

"…I like to call it Springtrap."

"What do you want then?" Michael asked angrily, a powerful hatred rising up within himself.

"It's gotten…difficult to move. I need you to do something for me…a few things…simple things." Michael jumped as the rabbit's head suddenly threw itself back with a loud snap, its jaw hanging open in a disturbing way. "Come here Michael…look inside. I hAve LOts to TeLl yoU."

To be continued…