Decay
A/N: I am not affiliated with the FNaF franchise, or Scott Cawthon. Constructive criticism welcome.
He stood before the barricaded room. It had been his destination since the beginning, yet even after everything he had been through these last six nights, the mere thought of what he would find filled him with terror.
Even if he wanted to, though, it was far too late to back out of this now. He had already gone through the effort of modifying and reprogramming the animatronics so that they wouldn't move tonight, in order to ensure they wouldn't get in his way.
He couldn't allow a moment of hesitation to tarnish years' worth of searching. As such, he took a deep breath, picked up his hammer, and carefully started removing the wooden boards that were separating him from the hidden room.
The moment he removed the first board, an appalling stench burst through the gap. There wasn't a shadow of a doubt anymore. He had found him.
After pushing aside the final board, he took his first step inside. His shoes came into contact with some kind of abstract liquid.
The interior of this so-called 'safe room' was being illuminated by a yellowed light bulb that was caked in dust and scum. He was surprised that it was still functional.
Utilizing the shoddy light source, he noticed that the black and white floor tiles were drenched in water that had been dripping from the ceiling.
As far as its contents were concerned, two kinds of objects caught his eye: Old arcade cabinets, whose colors had long since faded and their buttons were worn, and…an equally old suit, that was slouched amidst a puddle of dried blood.
He glared at it intently. Its yellow, almost golden color had given way to a repulsive shade of green. Its surface was littered with holes, undoubtedly carved out by hungry maggots, insects and rats.
Even with all the damage dealt to it by the elements, however, Michael wouldn't wouldn't mistake this suit for any other.
Let alone the man that was hidden within it.
From the way things stood, recollection was mutual. Two white glowing eyes, small like pinpricks, pierced right through the young trespasser. A gruff, weak, yet deep voice emerged from within it.
"So, then. We meet again."
Michael remained quiet, feeling his heartbeat accelerate at the sound of his voice.
"Your sister. Did you find her?"
After a brief pause, during which he clenched his fists, Michael replied with an emotionless tone in his voice.
"Yes, father. I put her back together."
"Good. You did a good thing. For once in your life."
Michael felt his teeth grind against each other. The silence that had been reigning over the conversation was disrupted violently.
"Wish I could say the same thing to you, old man!"
Neither of them spoke. One tried to regain his composure, while the other tried to come up with the most suitable response. William broke the silence first, with a sigh of agitation.
"Alright. You came to inform me. I don't need you anymore. Leave."
Michael's attempts to keep himself in check were proven futile.
"What the hell are you talking about!? Do you really think I'll leave without answers!?"
"What do you want, Michael?" William asked harshly.
"A confession. Are you or are you not the one responsible for the 'missing children incident' from 1985?" Michael asked definitively.
"I see… Don't get me wrong, Michael. You were never the brightest member of the family. But if you honestly haven't figured out the answer to that by now, then you're even less intelligent than I had assu-"
"Shut up! I want to hear the truth coming from your mouth!"
While Michael was seething, William was as calculated as ever. Like a corporate officer interviewing a candidate for even a low position.
"Yes, my dear child. I am."
"How can you put it so plainly!? Don't you feel even an ounce of guilt? Shame? Remorse? Anything at all!?"
"You are insufferable…"
"You are a monster!"
Up until that point, Spring Bonnie had been completely still. Once Michael finished his sentence however, he saw the suit's head was facing him directly. William spoke again.
"Yes… Now that you mention it, I do feel remorse. I should have never killed all those brats."
"..."
"The only brat I should have killed was you, Michael."
The man in question froze, while his father pressed on.
"All this time, I've been sitting here, listening to you prattle on and on, about guilt, shame and other such nonsense. Who do you think you are, you little bastard? A saint? Don't make me laugh."
"What…What the hell are talking about, you senile old fu-"
"You accuse me of being a monster? You? Well, congratulations, Michael. Your lack of self awareness never fails to surpass my expectations."
"Wha-?"
"Silence. Be honest with me, Michael. While you were bullying your defenseless little brother, were you feeling guilt? While you were torturing him to the point of tears, and laughing while he was begging you to stop, were you feeling remorse? While you were killing him with your bare hands, were you feeling shame?"
Michael's eyes had widened, and his hands were trembling.
"I…I wasn't expecting…I didn't mean-"
"Enough with your cheap excuses. You've always been this way, ever since you were a little boy. You would destroy the most valuable things we had, and then hide the evidence under your bed. You haven't changed a bit. Accept it, Michael. It doesn't matter how many you kill. The moment you take even one human life, it becomes clear who you really are as a person."
Michael had buried his face in his palms. William didn't stop.
"You are just as rotten inside as I am. So, do me a favor, and spare me the preaching. Murderer."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. With a cry of rage, Michael seized the hammer, and began trashing the decayed suit.
His vision was blurry, and his breathing shaky. With every strike, the suit jerked and various chunks of fabric, metal and bone popped out. Insects of every kind scuttled away from their yellowish-green nest in alarm.
Gradually, the offender felt his strength deplete. Disheartened, he let the hammer slip from his hands. He took a few steps back, and turned around.
"Finished already?"
Erratic and fatigued, Michael glared at his father head-on. The latter hesitated for a bit, before bursting into laughter.
"I was right. That look on your face. In your eyes. I recognize it. I've seen it all too many times. Would you like to know where?"
"..."
"In the mirror!"
"..."
Michael shook his head in defeat. He headed over to the room's entrance, and began repinning the boards.
"I hope you understand that they will fire you for this, right?" he heard William ask.
"All the better," he replied harshly, without stopping the swinging of the hammer.
"Ha ha. Yes, there are certainly better career paths out there. While on the topic, were you admitted to that engineering school you spoke of?"
"Yes, father. Sophomore. Had to put my studies on hold, though. You understand."
"I understand. Good job, kiddo."
That one phrase made Michael's jaw clench. As he was about to reposition the last board, William spoke one last time.
"Hey. Old sport. The animatronics cannot walk in this room. They're programmed not to. I am powerless. One day, I'll get out. Rest assured. I always come back. And when that happens, I will find you. When that day comes, I will correct my mistake, and do what I should have done all those years ago.
Good night, son. Ha ha ha ha ha!"