Thursday, August 27, 1987
Michael Afton stirred awake in his hospital bed. It had now been well over four weeks since he was brought here, and in that time his condition had improved significantly. He could now move around as normal… for the most part, given that the bones of his forearms still needed more time to heal. As such, his forearms were covered in casts, but thankfully he could still use his hands.
However, what would not heal were the scars left after Mangle's attack. Michael now had one on the left side of his mouth that ran from his nostril down to his chin, and another that ran across the bridge of his nose, as well as several scars on his cheeks. They were all permanent marks of that traumatic event that had almost led to his death.
Groggy and a bit disoriented, Michael slowly opened his eyes, only to find that it was still the dead of night.
Confused as to what had awakened him, Michael looked around the room, but there was no one there, nor was there anything out of the ordinary.
He then heard an odd, mechanical noise coming from above him.
Feeling his heart race, Michael hesitantly turned his gaze towards the ceiling.
To his horror, he saw a decaying white and pink fox animatronic with an exposed endoskeleton, way too many limbs, and a second, shell-less head. She stared at him with her glowing yellow eyes before she unhinged her jaws, which were filled with rows upon rows of impossibly sharp teeth.
Then, before Michael had a chance to react, the nightmarish animatronic swung down to bite into his head.
Michael woke up screaming and covered in cold sweat, feeling as if his heart was beating a million miles an hour. He frantically looked above him, then everywhere else, but there was nothing there.
It had just been a nightmare.
He let out a sigh of relief.
Ever since the incident, Michael had been having nightmares like this almost every night, and much to his dismay there was no sign that they would let up anytime soon.
It was slightly past noon when William came to bring Michael home from the hospital. The fourteen-year-old had just gone through some final tests and was sitting on his bed when his father entered his hospital room carrying a plastic bag.
"Hello, Michael," William said with a warm smile as he stepped inside. "How are you feeling today?"
"Well, my arms are still broken and my face is still fucked up—"
"Language, Michael," William interrupted him with a stern tone.
Michael rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, other than that, I guess I'm fine."
"Good," William replied, walking up to Michael's bed and setting the plastic bag down on it. "Here, I've brought you some clothes."
"Thanks," Michael muttered as he took the bag and looked through its contents.
William silently regarded his son and then said, "I'll give you some privacy so you can change. I'll be waiting for you outside."
Michael hummed a reply and then watched his father leave the room. Now alone, he removed his hospital gown and set it aside, and then began to dress himself with the clothes his father had brought. Of course, given that his forearms were broken, it did take him much longer than usual to get changed.
Eventually, William knocked on the door and asked, "Are you doing alright in there, Michael?"
"Yeah, I'm almost done!" Michael called back as he finished up. He grabbed the now empty plastic bag and exited the room, finding his father leaning against the wall outside.
William gave him a slight smile and then gestured for him to follow. "Alright, let's go."
"Sure," Michael replied and then walked down the hall alongside his father.
They had almost reached the reception area when William glanced in Michael's direction with a smile and said, "Hey, how about we grab some pizza from Paolo's on our way home?"
Michael lit up upon hearing that suggestion. "Really?"
"Really," William replied with a smirk as they exited the building. "I mean, you can definitely use it after having had nothing but hospital food for the past four weeks."
"I'll say! The food here sucks," Michael said, wrinkling his nose.
"Language, Michael," William said with a stern tone.
"Sorry, Father," Michael replied with a sheepish grin. "But, uh, thanks. I appreciate it."
"Don't mention it, son," William said with another smirk.
Having reached his purple 1973 Chrysler New Yorker, William unlocked it and entered the vehicle. He then waited patiently as Michael went around the car and got into the front passenger seat. Once they both had put on their seat belts, William turned on the ignition and pulled the car out of its parking spot.
As William drove the car out of the parking lot and onto the road, Michael decided to finally bring up something that he had wanted to talk about for some time now. "Father?"
"Yes, Michael?" William replied absentmindedly.
"Why'd you let Evan keep that thing?"
"Hm?" William glanced in Michael's direction. "Oh, you mean Mangle?"
"Whatever you wanna call it," Michael said, rolling his eyes. "Why'd you let him keep it?"
William huffed a laugh. "Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to get rid of her at first."
"Then why didn't you?" Michael asked.
"Because Evan kept begging me to let him keep her," William replied. "And given that he doesn't have any friends whatsoever, I just couldn't bring myself to take her away from him."
Michael frowned. "Even though that thing almost killed me?"
William side-eyed him. "That was all on you, Michael. She only went on the attack because she saw you hurting him." He gave his son a slight smile and continued, "Don't get me wrong, what happened to you was unfortunate, but I couldn't ask for a better protector than her."
Michael frowned at the insinuation that his baby brother needing a fucking killer robot to protect him from him. He looked away and sulked.
Once they returned home, William parked the car and turned off the ignition before pocketing the keys. He then grabbed the three boxes containing freshly baked pizzas from Michael's lap before he got out of the car, with the fourteen-year-old following suit.
After locking the car, the two stepped onto the porch and entered the house.
Carrying the pizza boxes, William gestured to what looked like a doorbell that was right next to the light switch. "Press that for me, Michael."
"Why?" Michael asked, eyeing the button.
"It's to call over your brother," William explained as he carried the pizza boxes to the dining room.
"Okay, sure," Michael replied and then pushed the button, holding it in for a good second before he joined his father.
William had already placed the pizza boxes down on the dining table, and was now heading into the kitchen to get some drinks. As he did, Michael took his pizza box and sat down at the table. He wasted no time to open it up, grab a slice, and bite into it. He murmured in delight as he took in the flavor of his favorite pizza—classic pepperoni—from his favorite pizza place.
His father then returned carrying three cans—a can of beer, a Dr. Pepper, and a Coke. He smirked as he watched his son scarf down the pizza. Setting the other cans down on the table, William opened the Dr. Pepper and handed it to Michael.
"Here you go," William said with a smile. "Something to wash it down with."
"Thanks," Michael replied with a brief smile of his own as he took the can and took a swig from it before setting it down on the table.
William got his own pizza box, opened it, and began to eat a slice when Evan walked into the room, carrying his math textbook, a notebook, and a pencil case under his arm. However, the eight-year-old looked quite nervous as he approached the dining table.
Evan fidgeted as he eyed his older brother. "Um… hey, Michael."
"Hey," Michael replied between bites, not even bothering to look at him.
Evan opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as if he wanted to say something, but then decided not to. He set his things down on the table and took a seat.
"Here you go, sport," William said with a warm smile as he handed Evan the can of Coke.
"Thanks, Father," Evan replied, smiling back at him. He was about to open the can, but then reconsidered and set it down on the table. He licked his lips and gathered what courage he had as he spoke up again, "Um, Michael?"
"Yeah?" The fourteen-year-old replied, still focused on his meal.
Evan hesitated and then said, "M-Mangle wanted me to tell you that she's really sorry for hurting you."
Thoroughly unconvinced, Michael looked at Evan as if he was the stupidest person in the world. "Uh-huh."
Evan opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to add something, but then thought better of it. Instead, he opened his pizza box and can of Coke. He also opened his math textbook and notebook just to the side of the box, and got a pen out of his pencil case. Then, with a slice of pizza in one hand and a pen in the other, he started solving math problems while casually eating.
This drew Michael's attention, who eyed the boy's textbook and notebook with a puzzled expression on his face. "Since when did you start doing homework at the dinner table?"
"Hmm?" Evan looked up at his older brother somewhat absentmindedly and then replied, "Oh! Um… this isn't homework, I'm just trying to finish my math course more quickly."
Michael stared at Evan as if he was some kind of alien impostor, and then gave his father a questioning look.
William, meanwhile, had the biggest grin on his face as he regarded his youngest son. He was so proud of him…
Michael turned his gaze back to Evan, watching in disbelief as the boy meticulously solved problem after problem while eating his pizza.
Once he had finished his meal, Evan excused himself, collected his things, and then left. But much to Michael's surprise, he didn't go upstairs to his room. Instead, the eight-year-old made his way towards the front door.
Michael gave his father another questioning look. "Where's he going?"
"To the barn to spend time with his animatronic friend, of course," William replied as he picked his teeth.
"How much time does he spend with that thing anyway?" Michael asked.
"Practically all of his spare time," William replied. "He even sleeps in the barn so that she won't feel lonely."
Michael furrowed his brow. This was not okay, nor was it healthy.
William got out of his seat and collected the now empty pizza boxes and brought them into the kitchen. Once he returned, he turned to Michael and said, "Feel free to just relax, Michael. I'm going to go do some work down in the basement. Don't disturb me unless it's an emergency."
Michael nodded. "Yeah, I know the drill."
With that, William left as well.
Now alone, Michael went over to the couch in the living room, where he sat down and proceeded to watch some TV and a movie, and play on his Atari 7800 for the next few hours.
He was a bit startled when the doorbell unexpectedly rang, and he sluggishly got out of the couch to go answer the door. Upon opening it, he was met by four familiar faces—Carlos, Tyler, Daryl, and Ashley—his best friends. Michael could tell that they had come directly from school as they were all still carrying their bags and backpacks.
"Hey, man!" Carlos greeted him with a grin. "Long time no see!"
"Uh, yeah," Michael replied as a smile crept onto his face.
"We tried to come visit you when you were at the hospital, but the stupid nurse wouldn't let us in," Tyler said and then grinned as well. "Anyway, how you doing, dude?"
"I mean, I'm still fucked up," Michael replied as he held up the casts on his forearms. "But I'm better, at least."
Daryl eyed Michael's facial scars and said, "Yeah, your face is still messed up too." However, this quickly earned him a punch in the arm from Ashley. "Ow!"
"You dumbass! Don't say shit like that!" She yelled.
"Alright, alright! Jeez!" Daryl replied.
Ashley rolled her eyes before she returned her attention to Michael. "It's good that you're at least doing better, Mike. You seriously had us worried."
"What even happened to you, man?" Carlos asked.
"I… I, uh…" Michael trailed off with a pained expression on his face. "I'd… rather not talk about it."
His four friends all exchanged confused glances with each other before they turned back to Michael.
"Okay, then…" Tyler said.
"So… can we come in?" Daryl asked.
"Yeah, sure," Michael replied and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.
Michael's friends ended up staying for several hours. They caught him up on everything that had happened while he was at the hospital and talked about current events. They even played some Atari together. It was the most fun Michael had in over a month. He was glad that, if nothing else, his friends would always be there for him.