Warning: This chapter contains very slight gore, blood, and minor violence.
"Mike." Charlie tugged on his sleeve, attempting to get his attention. He barely reacted, too absorbed in the conversation with his other friends. Fighting back a sigh, she tapped him on the shoulder. "Mike." Without a word, he swiped her hand away, shooting her an annoyed look. She swallowed hard, then again tapped him. "Mike!"
"Ugh what is it?" He spun around to her. "Can't you see I'm busy?" He gestured to his friends who looked at her disdainfully. One of them glared at Charlie in particular, drumming her fingers on her Chica mask. Charlie forced her gaze away from them with a shudder. She didn't like Michael's other friends, she much preferred it when he spent time with her and her nicer friends. They had a better influence on him.
"I have to talk to you," she said. "Please?"
"Later." He waved a hand, beginning to turn away.
"No." She took his arm and turned him back to her. "It's important, really important."
He frowned, annoyance and doubt evident upon his face.
She looked deeper into her best friend's eyes pleadingly. "Please, Michael."
With a roll of his eyes, he said, "I'll be right back, guys." They expressed a few words of disapproval. Satisfied but a bit hurt, Charlie took Michael's hand and led him out of the crowded eating area of the diner. They stopped when they reached her father's office, which at the moment was empty.
Releasing his hand, she said, "I, um, I have to talk to you about something."
"Okay, okay, but make it quick," said he.
She narrowed her eyes into a glare. "Why? Am I not important or something? You only want to talk to your other friends now, and torment your brother?"
"What? No, you're still my best friend," he said with a scoff. "And you're acting like tormenting that little brat is a bad thing. He deserves it."
Charlie stiffened. "No, he doesn't, Mike. He's actually a really sweet kid. I don't get why you keep bullying him!"
"Pfft." Michael looked the other way, scowling. "You wouldn't understand."
"You're right." She crossed her arms. "I don't understand. I don't understand when you became a jerk! When did you decide that it was a good idea to hurt your brother? Your own brother, Mike! I just don't get you now! How could you do that to him?"
"Why do you care?" he snapped. "I know you've never liked it, but since when do you yell at me for it? I suggest you shut up, Char! It's getting on my nerves!"
She felt the anger in her gut grow at this, but over it, came her hurt and sadness. She pushed both feelings off, glaring daggers at him. "What did you just say to me? You take it back! The Mike I met six years ago would never say all that to me! I'm just trying to look out for you and your brother, okay? I can't believe you would treat your own sibling with such...such cruelty! He's family, you...you should be kind to him, he's your brother, you...y-you should—" She broke off and looked down, fighting tears.
A small silence followed this. Michael broke it first. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean to snap at you, I just..." He paused. "What's wrong? Something's wrong, and that's why you wanted to talk to me, isn't it?"
She took a quivering breath and looked back up. "Not exactly. Mike, I wanted to talk you, because...b-because, um...well—" she exhaled slowly— "I'm worried about you. I feel like I'm losing you, like you're becoming a different person. And a person I don't like very much at all. It's horrible."
"Oh..." he said, his tone of voice unreadable to Charlie.
"I don't understand how you could be so mean." She shook her head. "That's not at all how the Mike I know would act towards anyone. You've always been kinda rude, sure, but not like this. He's your own brother. You should be glad just...just to have him. If Sammy was still alive, I'd—" She broke off and fell silent.
Only a moment passed before she felt Michael's arms wrap around her. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft, kinder than she'd heard it in a long time. "I'm still your friend, Charlie. I'll always be. I...well, I just...um...there's a lot going on. I'd rather not talk about it."
"Okay," she said, hugging back. "At least try to be nicer, okay? Not for me, for Evan."
He hugged her a bit tighter. "I...well, I...sure. I'll try. Yeah..."
"Good," she said, "because you don't know how lucky you are to have him, and...and I just hate seeing you act like this. I can't lose anybody else, I...I never want to, not after that...that horrid feeling when I lost Sammy. I hate it, I want him back, but he's gone. I don't want to lose anyone else. Never." She drew away from him and looked up at his face, her saddened eyes meeting his. "Promise me I'll never lose you. You're my best friend, I...I never want to. Not just to death, but you've been acting so terrible recently. I feel like you're drifting away."
"Sorry." Michael winced, holding her gaze. "You won't lose me."
"Promise?" she said.
With a small smile, he nodded. "I promise."
"I promise..."
"Promise..."
...
Charlie lifted her head, trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline. She was half-lying on Michael's back, her eyes fixed on the hard floor. Swallowing, she ran her gaze over the broken animatronics which they had crashed into. As she lifted her eyes to the right window beside the scooper, she did not see the animatronic that activated it. It was gone.
"O-okay, Mike," she said. "I think we're safe for now, but...but we need to get out of here." Attempting to calm her heart, she moved her hand to the floor and pushed herself up. Halfway into standing, she stilled, for she felt a warm liquid spill across her hand. She tensed up, her lips parting. "Michael," she said, her voice beginning to quiver, "are you bleeding?" No response. Her heart beat faster, the sound thudding in her ears. "Michael, please answer me." She gulped hard, willing herself not to look down. "Are you alright?" No answer. Now thoroughly freaked out, she shifted her eyes downward. Sure enough, blood spread over the floor, some of it already touching her hand.
"Mike?" Her gaze snapped to him. He was still lying on the floor, face-down. He hadn't moved since she rammed into him. She covered her mouth, realizing that the blood was indeed coming from him. "Mike!" She laid a trembling hand on his back. Quivering even more, she used her other to grasp his shoulder. "Hey." She gave him a gentle shake. "Are...are you alright?" No answer. She opened her mouth a bit wider, taking gasping breaths. It felt like her throat was beginning to close, the air she took in too little to satisfy as panic clamped around her insides. "M-Mike?" She gripped his shoulder tighter, the horrifying realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.
Michael wasn't breathing.
At first Charlie couldn't react, staring at his still form and the pool of red spreading around his body. It couldn't be real, it wasn't possible. She had saved him, hadn't she? She'd moved him away from the scooper, this couldn't happen. No. It hadn't! Except...it had.
She gripped him tighter, a sob tearing itself from the very depths of her body. She dissolved into wretched weeping. "No...n-no...no, you can't be...you can't...I saved you...I...Michael, you...you're not..." All that came out was a stream of nonsense as she grasped at his body, the feeling of blood seeping through the knees of her pants. "Wake up." She shook him. Her voice was soft, so quiet she could hardly hear it. She tried to speak louder, tried to make her voice rise, shout with the agony she felt filled every inch of her body, but she couldn't. "Please. W-wake up. Michael...you can't...y-you can't be...I-I...I love you, please just...please..." She couldn't get out another word, leaning forward and sobbing bitterly.
Past her overwhelming grief, she did not hear the hatch of the room clang open, nor the sounds of heavy, metallic footfalls. She kept weeping, part of her hair falling over her face while she choked a bit. The tears just wouldn't stop. Well...they didn't, until a sudden metal hand grabbed her shoulder. Before she could react, she was flung backwards, sprawling onto the floor. For a moment, she didn't make a move, lying there and shaking as her tears began to slow. Gasping for breath, she sat up and looked in the direction of Michael. A twisted form knelt beside him and turned him over, but mostly hid him from view. Charlie tensed. The animatronic that had scooped him.
Her hands slowly clenched into tight fists as she felt more rage than she'd ever experienced gradually build in her stomach, burning like hot magma. Her breaths staggering, she stood up. When she spoke, her voice was full of wrath, hardly recognizable even to her own ears. "Get away from him." The animatronic did not respond. She took a step closer, her form shaking with anger. "I said get away from him!"
"You..." A voice echoed from it. It sounded vaguely like Circus Baby's, but now it had a more rough and mechanical tone to it. "You meddling wretch..."
She glared. "What?"
"We should have killed you." The animatronic lifted its head, slowly glancing over its shoulder. One of its eyes flicked up and met her fiery gaze. "You've interfered, the scooping was not complete."
"What do you mean?" Her piercing glare darkened.
"He has not been emptied out enough." Its head twitched. "Once we dispose of you, we can complete the process and escape."
Charlie fisted her hands tighter, resisting the urge to tackle the monstrosity. "What are you talking about? Why did you do this to him? What even are you?"
The animatronic rose to its full height, looming over her menacingly. "We are Ennard!" As it said this, its voice did not sound like Circus Baby. It wasn't a single voice anymore, as if every single voice of the animatronics combined into a single, glitchy sound that set Charlie's heart racing.
Her lips parted; she fell back a step. "You're all of them. You're...you're all the animatronics."
It giggled, moving closer. "And your executioner!" It lunged at her. With a gasp, Charlie hit the floor, barely avoiding the attack. When she stumbled to her feet, a sudden wire wrapped around her leg and yanked her back down. She cried out, a deep pain throbbing through her leg as she struggled against it. Distorted giggles echoed from Ennard as it pulled her closer.
"Let me go, you monster!" She fought against it, but to no avail. It seized both of her shoulders and yanked her upwards. She squirmed and kicked as the tubes of metal wrapped around her body. She shuddered at their cold touch. They twined around her arms, her legs; her neck. As one moved to cover up her mouth, she called out, "Let me go!" She flung herself forward, a few of the wires losing their grip. Ennard hissed and yanked her closer. She flung herself around, her hand shooting forward and grabbing the empty arm of Funtime Foxy. With a cry, she smacked it against Ennard's arm several times. One hand released her, as did several wires. So few gripped her now that she managed to escape, wiggling and hurling herself around. The moment she was released, she staggered away and jumped to her feet.
Backing towards the conveyor, Charlie scowled at Ennard with such fury that the animatronic appeared to hesitate, its left eye flickering. "Y-you've made a big mistake," she said, holding its daunting gaze. "You killed someone that I'm very close to, one of the people that means everything to me! Well, you know what? I'm not going to let him die for nothing. I'm going to make sure you don't do this to anyone else!" Moving swiftly, she grabbed the head of Funtime Freddy, then flung it at one of the windows. It crashed straight through, broken glass flying with it. Charlie cried out as a piece sliced across one of her arms. She didn't let it faze her, jumping through the hole in the glass.
"No!" Ennard moved towards the window. It did not reach it, for Charlie hit the first button she saw within the room. After the haunting alarm, the scooper activated once again, lurching forward and hitting Ennard as it passed. Its ear-shattering scream pierced the air as the contraption jerked back into place. It was still on the scooper, its broken tangle of endo parts sparking. They remained latched to the scooper, where Michael's blood still dripped. Ennard gave another distorted scream, struggling to get off. Seizing the opportunity, Charlie stumbled her way back into the room. Ennard tried to grab her when she passed but was unable to. Dropping to her knees beside Michael, she swallowed convulsively. Nausea churned through her stomach. Ennard had rolled him over, revealing the wound in all its horridness. It wasn't nearly as large as she expected it to be, but it gaped open and oozed blood. Just a bit of his ribcage was visible, and she felt like throwing up the moment she saw a red, twisted organ, partly hanging out of the area of his stomach.
She forced her gaze way, despising the sight of his corpse. Not just the gory wound, but his pale, lifeless face. She hated seeing him like this. Dead. But she would have to deal with it for now. Ennard wanted something with his corpse, and she wouldn't have it.
"Alright." She slowly let out a breath. Silently trying to calm herself, she stood and grabbed his arms. She heaved him up a little, then dragged him towards the exit vent.
"St-stop!" Ennard's glitched, shrill voice followed as she shoved Michael through, then crawled out after him. "Stop...s-stop running! We need to escape!" She blocked out its words, stumbling to her feet. Again, she grabbed his arms. Dragging him away, she was moving on instinct, her mind barely catching up to her actions. Through the sorrow, fear, confusion, and anger, only one thing kept her going: survival. She needed to get out of here. Her muscles ached and her cut arm burned. She put both to the back of her muddled mind as she pulled Michael's corpse through Funtime Auditorium. She couldn't see where she was going; darkness completely consumed her. Truth be told, she didn't even know where to go. Back to the elevator? No, it wouldn't leave, not since she entered that secret room. However, could she go back to the mysterious room? She shook her head, fighting off tears and panic. She couldn't go there either. While escaping it, she had smashed the scanner, for she'd been unable to open the door. Thankfully, the door then unlocked and opened easily, with the scanner caput, but it also meant that if Ennard discovered that room while she hid in it, there would be no way to keep it out. It wasn't safe. Besides, where was she, anyway?
She stumbled through the darkness, Michael's body weighing her down. She kept automatically going, while her grief and terror threatened to take over on more than one occasion. She tried to fight it off, but as she went on, it didn't seem to be working. Just as she felt her enclosing thoughts and emotions begin to crash down on her once again, she bumped against what felt like a door. It swung open a bit, invisible in the midst of the darkness. Charlie didn't pause before she entered, pulling Michael along with her. The moment she stepped in, she recognized it. The secret room. Her eyes darted around the dimly lit area, searching for something, anything. She saw nothing that could be useful, not a thing she could use against Ennard. Where could she possibly go in this place, anyway?
An odd sound emanated behind her, dangerously close to the doorway. It sounded like the creaking of metal, or perhaps metal scratching against another hard object. With a start, she realized it had to be Ennard. Her breaths picking up once again, she did the first thing she thought of. She grabbed Michael's body then went through one of the other doorways in the room, emerging into a shadowy hall. Her arms ached and her body trembled. She tried to focus her blurring thoughts, forcing her way down the corridor then around several corners. She passed multiple doors as she went, and stopped at each one, but all were locked. Barely comprehending her own actions, she simply kept going, her need for survival urging her on. Everything else became lost to her, even her consuming grief. But, deep down, in the midst of confusion and horror, she knew it was coming back, lingering at the back of her mind.
She tried not to think about any of it, staggering as Michael's corpse caught on something. She yanked on him, freed him from the object, and went stumbling backwards into yet another door. She threw a quick glance around herself. This was the end of the corridor. Briefly releasing Michael, she tried the knob. To her relief, it turned. She flung the door open, retrieved Michael, and passed through. She emerged into a rather small, dark room. Another door greeted her, this one dingier and with a sign above it. Swallowing hard, she shifted her gaze up and read it. Exit. Another exit? They were underground, that didn't make any sense. Nevertheless, it seemed to be her only hope. Perhaps coming upon this area had been a stroke of luck, after all.
Gently laying Michael back down, she rushed to the door and jiggled the knob. Nothing happened. It was locked. "No!" She tried again, to no avail. Giving a cry of anger, she shook it violently, attempting to open it, but it simply would not give. She was trapped. All that struggling through the auditorium and corridor had been for nothing. Shaking, she sank to her knees and went silent. The moment she did, everything that she'd done since discovering Michael had died finally caught up to her. She could barely grasp all that had happened, yet it rang true in her head, and that horrified her. It was terrible. Completely, utterly horrible. It didn't seem real, yet every time she looked at Michael's corpse, she realized that it was indeed real, and there was nothing she could do to change it. Michael was dead.
Charlie broke down once again. Weeping, she crawled back over to Michael's corpse, then threw herself down beside him. She sobbed harder, grabbing his cold hand and clasping it tightly. As she lay there and wept, the events of the night repeated through her head. Wandering off to the secret room...letting Michael go on his own...his panicked pleas for her to come help...the way she smashed the card scanner in the midst of her panic...charging through Funtime Auditorium...tackling him to the floor. She had been certain she'd saved him, but no. She hadn't. She couldn't help but blame herself. How could she be so foolish? Now her best friend, the man she loved was dead. And it seemed soon she might be as well. This night had been a mistake from the start.
A creaking sound came from the side, drawing her attention from her sorrow. She sat up and turned her eyes to Ennard who stood in the doorway. Its body sparked and twitched more than before, but it appeared to be intact, as if it had wound and twisted itself back together.
It tipped its head to the side and spoke with a glitching voice, "D-did...did you think you could escape? Foolish girl. Now we will finish w-what we started." Charlie said nothing, staring up at it. She still felt rage towards it, but by now, she was mostly exhausted. Emotionally, physically, mentally exhausted. Could she even keep going?
"Stay away," she said, her voice angry, yet tearful. Ennard did not reply, stomping its way into the room. With a gasp, Charlie staggered to her feet. It immediately shoved her back down. She scrambled away and pressed herself against the wall beside the exit, glowering up at the animatronic.
It giggled and leaned forward. "You...y-you shouldn't have interfered." Two wires wound forward and twined up her body to her neck. She fought against them, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. When she reached up a hand, Ennard lurched forward and grabbed her wrist. "No," it hissed. "No...fighting back...th-this time." More wires came off its body. One forced her free arm behind her back, while others twined around her legs and throat. She trembled and tried to fight back, but the tight constriction kept her from moving.
No! she screamed inside her head. No, no, no! Let me go! This can't be happening! The cords tightened. Pain throbbed in various areas of her body, and her vision began to dim as the wire around her neck grew the tightest of all. She fought for breath, but already she could feel herself flickering out of consciousness.
"Do not worry," said Ennard. "Sn-snapping your neck will be quick, practically painless."
"No..." she whispered, her voice choking past the grip on her neck. As her eyes began to close, her thoughts fogged over. Her entire body felt like it screamed to be released, to live, to be free of all this torment, but now it seemed to Charlie like that was impossible. She went limp, realizing perhaps all this fighting was useless. In the end, this night had taken both their lives...
Or so she thought.
A sudden bang cracked through the air, and the wires loosened. Some air slipped into Charlie's throat, and a piece of the black vanished from her vision. Focusing her eyes on Ennard, she watched it as another loud sound cracked through the air. The end of what appeared to be a pipe plunged through the front of its chest area. She regained even more consciousness, startling. Had someone stabbed it from behind? Twitching and giving a pained, distorted noise, Ennard slowly looked down at the metal object protruding from it.
"W...w-what?" it said. "No...n-no one else is...here. Who just..." It trailed off, releasing Charlie as its head turned around completely and stared at a silhouette that stood behind it. Coughing and touching her neck, she shakily sat up. It took her a moment to recover, and when she did, she looked up just in time to see the person strike Ennard again, sparks flying. She tensed up, her mouth falling open as her rescuer bowed over themself and turned in her direction.
The moment her gaze met theirs, she shouted their name with every ounce of her being, "Michael?" She shot to her feet. He said nothing, gazing at her with glassy eyes. He was hunched over himself, blood dripping from his stomach and chest. His arms hung from the weight of the pipe he held, and he did not respond to her shocked cry. She covered her mouth, hardly believing her own eyes. He was alive? Really and truly? She had no time to react again, for Ennard lunged, slamming right into Michael. He collapsed to the floor, the pipe flying from his grasp.
"Remnant," it hissed. "Sh-should have known you would l-live."
"Mike!" Charlie rushed to his side and dropped to her knees. She placed her hand on his shaking shoulder as he sa-t up, straining with effort. Frowning deeply, she took one of his hands, and he gripped back, his hold tight. He gave a groan of pain, his desperate eyes flicking to hers. She rubbed his shoulder and wished to speak a few words of comfort, but they were still in danger.
"Th-this wasn't supposed to happen." Ennard broke the two apart, shoving Charlie away from him. "We were supposed to escape!" With a growl of anger, she jumped back to her feet and tried to tackle it. It shoved her into the wall, its body twitching. "F-fine then." It whirled around and seized Michael, then slammed him against the opposite wall. "I'll just have to do it myself." It plunged its hand into his wound. Immediately, he started to scream, his shrill cry echoing through the room as Ennard drove its hand in farther.
"No!" Charlie leapt to her feet and threw herself at it. She made impact with its sparking body, sending them both to the floor. Michael collapsed beside them, coughing up blood. His entire body heaved as he took wheezing breaths, followed by short, breathy sounds of pain. Charlie reached to help him, but again Ennard pushed her away. It returned to Michael, grabbing him by the neck. He feebly fought against it.
"L-le—" his voice came out rough and weak, barely sounding like himself— "let go."
"Silence!" Ennard slammed its hand against part of his face, unseen to Charlie. Panic overtaking her, she searched around for the pipe Michael had earlier used. Just as she found it, a pain-filled scream made her freeze up. Michael had screamed again.
Anger returning full swing, she clenched the pipe tightly, and with a cry of rage, spun around and slammed it against Ennard with all her might. The animatronic was thrown to the side, a warped sound of pain escaping it. It got up and again dove at Michael, but Charlie hit it straight across the face. A distinct cracking sound came, and half its mask fell off. Edging away from her, Ennard put a hand against its face and shook its head, which twitched even more than before.
She watched it crawl away, her eyes running along its sparking body. Her own body shook and quivered with each breath that escaped her. She took a step towards the animatronic, which had almost disappeared into the darkened corner, looking rather pathetic now. She almost went right over and kept hitting it, but now most of her rage towards it had diminished to growing worry. Keeping the pipe clenched in one hand, in case Ennard attacked again, she whirled around to Michael and dropped to her knees beside him. He sat against the wall, hunched over himself. One arm wrapped around his torso, while he covered his right eye with his other hand. To her horror, blood ran down that side of his face, coming from the area he hid from view.
"Hey," she said softly, giving him a gentle nudge. "Are you alright?" Michael wheezed, his uncovered eye flicking to her. She winced at how glassy and lifeless it looked. "Don't...d-don't—" she let out a breath, silently trying to calm herself— "don't worry, I'll help you. Whatever happened, we can fix it. Th-that's right. We can." She lowered her head, inhaling and exhaling repeatedly. No matter what she did, her nerves would not be tamed, nor would her terror. So much had happened in such little time, she could barely catch up to any of it.
"Charlie." Michael's gruff, trembly voice came. "Th-the pipe."
"What?" She lifted her head.
Bowing his head, he uncovered his right eye and pointed shakily at the exit door. She paused, trying to see that eye, for it seemed to be injured. The darkness and the position of his face made it practically impossible. Biting back a sigh, she looked between the door and the pipe. At once, she realized what Michael meant. With a nod, she got back up, then charged to the exit. In one swift motion, she used the make-shift weapon to bash off the doorknob. The sudden action made her arms ache and her cut throb, but she hardly cared. After releasing the pipe and letting it drop to the floor, she rushed back to Michael's side.
"Can you walk?" she asked, cupping one of his cheeks.
He didn't look up, most of his face still hidden. "M...m-mayb—" He cut himself off with a small cry, followed by a wheeze-like noise she didn't even recognize. Another followed it, making his entire body jolt. He let out a pitiful groan of pain, one of his bloodied hands reaching out and latching onto Charlie's arm desperately. "I can lean against you," he whispered, so softly she almost couldn't hear him. "H-hurry. Please."
"Okay." Charlie gulped, forcing herself to nod. "I'll be careful." She moved to his right side, then gently took his arm and draped it over her shoulder. After wrapping her arm around the back of his waist, she helped him to his feet. He staggered and nearly collapsed, crying out. The sound heart her deep, but she tried to ignore her sympathy for the time being. This was about getting out and finding him help. Bowing beneath his weight, she helped him towards the door. A voice from behind made them both freeze up.
"No," it said, "why are you leaving me?" Charlie stiffened, recognizing it. The young voice was unmistakable—sweet, light, and laden with a British accent, much like Michael's.
"E-Elizabeth?" he murmured, looking over his shoulder. Charlie did the same.
Ennard stood behind them, its head tilted to the side. "Come back." It reached out a hand. "Please come back to me. I...I need your help." Michael stared, then to her alarm, he began to reach behind them, his hand dangerously close to Ennard's.
Sudden urgency coming over her, Charlie kicked open the door before them and yanked Michael through it. "No! I'm not losing you again!" She paused in the entrance, shooting Ennard a savage glare. "Stay away from us, you monster!" She slammed the door back shut, then made her way up the new area they stood in. The skinny hall was barely lit, its dingy walls way less clean or professional than the ones of the building. She paid no mind to it, practically dragging Michael along as she fought her way on. The passage felt like it lasted for ages. It had to be at least a mile, a stretching expanse of twisting turns and dirtied walls. The air smelled rank and bitter. As she went, Charlie found herself faltering more and more. Her own exhaustion and Michael's weight nearly dragged her down, but she struggled onward. Michael's sounds of distress grew the farther they went, and as time wore on, he was barely even walking anymore. She could do nothing to help, merely pressing on, silently begging for them to the make it to the exit. The moment they reached the end of the hall, the duo collapsed to the floor, side-by-side.
Charlie gazed at Michael, panting heavily. He stared back at her with only one eye, the right side of his face hidden by his hand which once again pressed against his right. His bloody chest barely rose, and each short breath was accompanied by either a wheeze that sounded quite painful, a strained grunt, or even a weak cry. They said nothing for quite a while, simply staring at each other as Charlie caught her breath.
"You're alive," she murmured, reaching over and putting her hand against his cheek. She brushed her thumb across it as a smile found its way to her chapped lips. "I...I can't believe it."
The briefest of smiles flickered across his, almost immediately fading to a grimace of pain.
"I'll help you," she whispered. "You'll live. I promise." She glanced up, spotting a ladder, and above it, a trapdoor. Her eyes flitted back to him as she continued, "I don't know how you'll get up that, but you're going to live. I'm going to get you help."
He nodded, his body jolting and a small cry escaping him.
She winced and brushed her thumb against his cold cheek again. She then moved her hand to the right side of his face, the sticky sensation of blood meeting her fingertips. "Hey, let me see your eye," she said. He obediently removed his hand and turned his face completely to her. She gulped hard, nausea churning through her stomach. Perhaps asking to see his eye hadn't been the best phrasing ever. He had no eye. All she saw was an empty, red socket, blood running out of it and down his face.
"E-Ennard ripped it out," he said.
"Ah." She took a deep breath, her stomach churning sickly. She tried to ignore it. "That's alright. We can fix this; we can fix all of it." She finally sat up, throwing her gaze up the ladder. "We have to get out of here." Rising, she bent down and helped Michael up. He nearly fell back down, but she kept him on his feet. "Think you can climb up that?"
"I'll try." Was Michael's quiet reply. He moved away from Charlie, then grasped the first rung. She watched anxiously as he began the climb, going at a sluggish pace. It looked like he was barely clinging on, to both the ladder and to life. His sounds of pain only grew the farther he climbed. When he reached the top, he shoved open a trapdoor, then hauled himself out. As soon as he disappeared from her sight, Charlie heard a loud thud, followed by another cry.
"Don't worry!" she called up. "I'm coming!" Grabbing onto the rungs with shaking hands, she clambered up after him. Once she reached the top, she stifled a gasp. The trapdoor led into a garage, but not just any garage, Michael's garage. Standing up, she gawked around herself. The trapdoor was hidden behind a few stacks of boxes, filled with what appeared to be old trinkets, probably left over from the house or ones Michael had never used. Though this shocked and confused her, she didn't give herself time to wonder over it. Michael was more important. She knelt down beside him, then gently took his arm. He once again leaned against her, and without a word to each other, they hobbled their way out of the garage and through Michael's house to the living room. There, she helped him onto the couch where he sprawled out, gasping for the few breaths that reached his lungs.
Charlie turned on the light, then moving swiftly, she rushed to the kitchen, snagged a few towels, and dashed back to him. She immediately pressed one against the wound on his stomach and chest, earning a shrill scream from him. Her breath caught in her throat; she seized up, the sound bringing tears to her eyes. "I...I'm sorry. It's to stop the blood flow."
"I-I know." He pressed hard against the couch, his back arching slightly. "It...it's just really painful. I...I-I can't...I..." He trailed off, grinding his teeth and clamping his single eye shut.
"Shh." She briefly swiped back a piece of his hair. "It's okay. I...I can help. I'll call an ambulance, just as soon as—" She didn't finish her sentence, for a knock came at the front door.
Not now! she thought, glancing between it and Michael who looked to be getting progressively worse. He was now panting and wheezing, his occasional sounds of pain now much more frequent.
"Ch-Charlie, help," he said, his breathy plea hurting her heart. "I-I...I don't...I don't know how much longer I can last, I—" He cut himself with a ragged cough, hacking out blood.
Charlie shook her head, still looking between him and the door. She could feel her panic building once again, as she realized she didn't actually know what to do. "I-it'll be alright," she forced out. "Just hold on, and—" Again she broke off, this time because the door flung open. Someone entered the house and froze the moment they saw her and Michael. She gasped in surprise. "Dad?"