"Still Alive" and "Unbroken" are actually separate titles.

Chapter Four

Unbroken and Still Alive

W-wha-what's happening?

He was so tired he wanted to just go back to sleep, still feeling groggy and feeling a little bit of pain, but where that knife got him wasn't hurting much anymore except like the remains of a bruising punch -

"Ha-ha, come on, you big crybaby. Fredbear's not that scary! Why don't you say hi and give him the big ol' kiss? Here, let's help you out; guys, grab his legs!"

CRUNCH.

"Evan? Evan, are you - hey, you little dumbass, SAY SOMETHING! Evan? Oh God oh God, DAD! DAD, HELP, EVAN'S HURT! OH, MY GOD, NO, EVAN! GUYS, DO SOMETHING...!"

Michael burst into awareness, screaming and sobbing at the same time, tears streaming down his cheeks.

~o~

Kaleia wasn't on-call and was at another location during her shift when word got to her that Mike Schmidt had awoken from his deep sleep, crying and screaming while still attached to the throat tube and oxygen mask. Oh, God. She was administering the prescribed dosage of pain reliever to a patient post-spinal surgery when a colleague brought the news to her.

"I was there and helped," Deb, a bubbly redhead with dark plum-colored lipstick, hair piled high in a messy bun, and expensive-looking green emerald studs in her ears to match her eyes. "Dr. Jones called for the nearest nurses - me included," she added with a flashy grin that made Kaleia roll her eyes, but the other didn't notice or just didn't care, "and thankfully he was sedated before the worst happened."

For a bit, she was worried for Clara's son, but thank God for miracles. She loved science, but also knew God and other religions existed, and that everything happened for a reason. This was one of them she was grateful for.

Deb took the clipboard from her to take over from here, not that Kaleia minded for a change when she was finished here. Deb's job was to do the catheter and shit, which made her laugh, but they were all trained to do the same tasks. She now had lunch to wheel around at these hours, which gave her time to her thoughts from the last week.

Clara had told her, because of the lunch break timespan getting shorter, to search online the best she could, and to check out the library archives when she got the chance. She could judge however she wanted, and would never hold it against Kaleia. That told the nursing student enough of the weight of the gravity.

She'd been on the family computer while her grandparents slept, studies done, and sleep beckoning her, but she'd ignored it in favor of Clara and her own insatiable curiosity. The words, sentences, and headlines still plagued her thoughts even now. Even when she'd sleep beneath her comforter of flowers of navy, burgundy, and gold against an ivory backdrop...

KIDS VANISH AT LOCAL PIZZERIA: BODIES NOT FOUND

LOCAL PIZZERIA THREATENED WITH SHUTDOWN OVER SANITATION

LOCAL PIZZERIA SAID TO CLOSE BY YEAR'S END

Six years ago, five children mysteriously vanished as if into thin air after being lured away by a man in a golden rabbit costume at the now-closed Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria - a branch of the Fazbear Entertainment, like the defunct Fredbear's Family Diner that Kaleia had been taken to by her grandparents. She barely remembered much of that except bits, but back to the children. The suspect was charged only to be let go when the corpses were never found. She was horrified enough as it was, but that wasn't the end of it.

Clara had said her ex-husband's name was Will, and the name of the suspect charged but released...William Afton, co-founder.

Her heart had ceased beating and tightened in on itself, her lungs doing the same and cutting off her air supply but not killing her. No wonder her patient didn't want anyone else knowing, and why she now went by Schmidt, her maiden name she took back after the divorce. Mike was her only child left, but there was nothing about the Afton family here, telling Kaleia enough.

This was all Hurricane-based, so that meant one thing...

"Makes you wonder why the hell these places could still be open, or the business itself if not the restaurant chains," Melinda said disgustedly when Kaleia finally told her the limited findings. "But I can tell one thing or two which are the same thing: money and greed." She scoffed. "Heard from a few people that when it comes to death and injury, or just one, they are not responsible, but you are."

They were in the hospital cafeteria on their shared lunch break, appetites lost because of the lack of responsibility on the company's part. "You know what, Mel?" Kaleia asked after a forced bite, chew, and swallow of her fried tilapia. "It does make you wonder. I also wonder why and how the hell I could have loved that place so much when I was little. And I was barely thirteen when the five kids went missing. Never went back because Grandpa and Grandma laid down the law, their words right, and I was getting too old. Now?" She closed her to-go box, pausing to let her stomach settle.

"I wish that damned business was either shut down or replaced with better leadership. But what does it matter when it's just us, or others agree and are powerless? It's just not fair!"

"I agree, but what are we doing talking about something from the past that we're not directly involved in?" Melinda pointed out. "I get it your boss's patient wanted someone to talk to about this, and you're good at keeping secrets better than me, but why this? And what about Mr. Schmidt? Or rather, Mr. -" Kaleia had to stop her before someone else around them overheard and it blew like a fuze.

"Sshh, don't say his name."

Melinda shrugged. "Okay, I won't." She then smirked. "Whatcha say about a trip to Hurricane in the future? Not immediately, but maybe during summer. We gotta satisfy this curiosity and get it over with."

See, there were several things wrong with this scenario. Yeah, Kaleia wanted to know more, because she had no right judging a woman who left her lousy, genius husband, and had one child left out of three...yeah, she could check that out herself. Two were dead, so maybe the archives in Hurricane had more, and then once she had everything, it meant another, gentle conversation with Clara. The last thing she wanted to be was inconsiderate.

Right now, Mike was awake and being seen to.

~o~

"How do you feel right now, Mr. Schmidt?"

"Honestly? Like shit."

"Charming." Dr. Harrison Jones chuckled and shook his head, turning the next page on his clipboard. "But the good news is that you're gonna make a full recovery, although I recommend the following: if you intend to be active, take breaks and rest in between, and take the medication I'm gonna prescribe to you. And as for sleeping, elevation would have to do until we're certain your wound is fully healed. Also, avoid smoking," he added sternly, "and no driving until further notice. Your mother or maybe a friend could help you with that."

Michael did his best to not groan. Six weeks...eight weeks...damn it, and he'd never had injuries for that long in his life. First time for everything. "'Kay, Doc," he mumbled.

Mom laughed heartily. "He'll manage, I know it. He's made of tough stuff," she said, making his ears hot. Mooom!

"Oh, no doubt," Jones said with a grunt, "but there's not all good news. You may experience complications in the future, which is why we need to monitor you in the future during the scheduled appointments to come. One is commonly shock or cardiac arrest following liquid swelling in the afflicted lung. Or an infection if not treated with the antibiotics you'll receive. Still, you're being treated as soon as possible, so you might not go through any of this." Now the man smiled.

Yeah, I quit smoking years ago. No problem there. But I gotta get back to work, too. I just got there, and THIS happens.

"Yeah," Michael said, "speaking of which, what have you heard of that woman who did this?"

The doctor was about to answer when suddenly, his pager beeped. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I wish I could answer, but I'm needed. Think your mother can answer that." He nodded in her direction. "Take care till I see you next time. Clara."

"Harrison," she answered with a curt nod, turning back to her son after the man was gone. "Sometimes he's so insufferable, but he means well, sweetie."

He exhaled and slumped against the elevated head of the bed. "Yeah, but what about my attacker, Ma?" he asked, impatient because a small part of him was afraid of a repeat -

"Charged with assault, attempted murder, and possession. Possible reasons of insanity, but we won't know for sure until further analysis. Even mentioned something I NEVER wanted to hear again. But enough of that until you are out of here," Clara said, switching from disgust to warmth like bipolar, or schizophrenia? "Look at what your boss and coworkers got you before you woke today." She directed him with a finger to the table at the foot of the bed, and for the first time, Michael saw the flower arrangement he couldn't believe had been from Mason, Jeremy, and the other guy he wasn't fully acquainted with just yet. The cheerful golden sunflowers and mums, white roses and greens were in this cute, smart mug modeled after the can of Campbell's chicken noodle. Who'd have ever thought of that, and using the container of a soup great for healing the sick?

There was a knock on the door to the room, and then the knob turned. "Excuse me for just coming in, but I thought I'd bring this in," the young woman said, closing the door behind her and stepping in, placing the new plant arrangement next to his. Jesus Christ, what did he do to get so lucky and gain so much unwanted sympathy, and who was this from?

Looking up, Michael almost bolted forward to sit upright as he recognized the face of the girl. Kaleia, granddaughter of his new boss.

~o~

This was Grandma's idea even though she'd done this before: a floral arrangement for Mike Schmidt.

Part of Kaleia was a little worried it was too girly. But Akela had said it reminded her of a desert oasis, and she had the eye for detail. The plants inside were succulents, individually being aloe vera, pink kalanchoe, and a bit of jade plant. All of them were in this vase of mosaic shimmering with ocean blue, sandy white, and light rainbow colors. She was gonna give this to him without a reason, but also hoped it wouldn't send signals they'd misunderstand. She was just doing it to be nice and make him feel better.

God, Grandma better not be trying to set me up again. It'll happen on its own.

Walking in, she was greeted by the sight of mother and son, with Clara in the chair to her son's right. He didn't even look at the gift, but straight at her face, causing Kaleia to halt in her tracks, forgetting her professionalism because of what she saw. Blame the way he looked for the slight burn in her skin and drying of her throat. Light skin fair as Snow White's, set with eyes blue as snow or ice against the sky, delicate features including a narrow nose and soft pink lips not full enough to be girly, and dark brown hair parted in half and combed over now that he was well enough.

"Hello, Mr. Schmidt," Kaleia said, remembering her manners and that she'd been staring. "I see you're doing well."

He sat up a little straighter, coughing and then clearing his throat. "You mean the paper cut here?" he asked with a sly smirk, pointing to the spot below his ribs where he'd been struck. She scoffed at his humor, laughing, too. He had to be that tough with whatever else he'd been through, but she'd never wish any of that OR wartime on anyone else.

"Right, but Dr. Jones must have explained everything to do from now on?"

"Yeah, yeah." He sighed sharply. "I also got Mom here to help keep me in line." Clara side-eyed him with a devilish grin that made him shrink back against the pillows. The sight made Kaleia chuckle.

Too much of this cuteness and she'd get more than just burning skin. He was cute, but she had work to do. "I'll leave you two alone then. I got rounds, but ring for me if you need anything, Mr. Schmidt."

"Hell, call me Mike now that I finally met the face of my boss's granddaughter he just loves to talk about."

Kaleia blinked. Not surprised Grandpa loved to talk about her, but Grandma did, too. They raised her after all. Although, the tone of voice Mike used and the way he said it - was she imagining that he was suavely flirting with her? Yeah, I just met him, and it's too good to be true.

~o~

She needed a glass of wine or two as soon as she got home. Her classes were another priority, but it wasn't like she'd be fired. She'd just been made director and was proud of it. Suck on that, William.

Just as her ex-husband could suck himself if he could see what she'd built here in the last several years. Wasn't easy to get a house in this economy, but she did it. Henry and Mikey had some part, but the woman's touch was hers. As soon as she saw it, Clara fell in love with it. Might be the American Dreamer she still was, but it was a wonderful chance for a fresh start, although the pain of losing two children followed her. She kept their memories and spirits alive in a positive way which was inside the single-story, three-bedroom, green-doored, buttery yellow structure she drove up to, dust flying out behind her as she parked right in front and stepped onto patches of green growing back in time for spring.

As soon as she walked through the door, there was the handpainted cross on the wall, beautifully scrolling with green leaves and red and white roses, taking her back to the Tudor rose. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her purse and coat on their rack before marching right to the living area.

Henry wasn't home yet, but he always came back later than she and Michael did. Still, he was missed. He was such a good friend and like a brother, or was he?

Clara plopped down on the watercolored green-and-beige sofa, crossing one leg over the other. I miss Michael, and it's been over a week since he was home. I'm gonna cook him whatever he wants as soon as the doctor thinks he can manage.

Resting atop the circular, medallion-carved coffee table was a clear vase of silk flowers - creamy white chrysanthemums, blushing roses, and peonies of buttery yellow edged and tinted with dark pink - and some magazines, the newest being atop. Damn, she could use something good on the late movie channel if there was anything -

- but as soon as she turned on the television above the large fireplace with two bookshelves on either side, one filled with said books and the other VHS tapes, Clara's heart suddenly froze.

"Will - oh, God, William!"

She'd stopped hearing about that bastard ever since the divorce, but now that she was seeing this...the feeling didn't involve regret, sadness, fear, or even heartbreak. In a way, it was catharsis.

FAZBEAR CEO REMOVED: WILLIAM AFTON'S FALL FROM GRACE

"Serves you right. Now, that wine I need to celebrate." Clara then grinned to herself, turning to look in the mirror behind the sofa on the wall, surrounded with all those memories of the good namely, including Elizabeth and Evan in the spiritual sense. "No, wait, I'll wait for Henry."

Deb, Kaleia's fellow nurse, was named after and based on the same character in "Halloween Ends". At first, she seemed like a friend to Allyson, the granddaughter of Laurie Strode, but then her true character is revealed. No spoilers.

The recovery and treatment of Michael's lung puncture comes from the healthline article "Punctured Lung: Symptoms, Treatments, and Recovery".

The flowers put together by Mason and his garage employees for Michael - look for the Campbell's Warm Wishes Bouquet on Teleflora. :D Same with Kaleia's Iridescent Oasis Garden Plant.

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