A/N: Content Warning: On-screen self-harm

Emma Bennett sat cross-legged in front of the gravestone, her fingertips brushing the grass that had begun to creep around its edges. She stared at the name etched into the polished granite: Ethan Bennett. Beneath it, in smaller letters, the dates—an impossibly short span of years—reminded her just how much time had passed. Almost five years. But it still felt like yesterday.

The small plushie in her lap, a faded Freddy Fazbear, stared back at her with its crooked smile. She smoothed out its worn fur, her hands trembling as she set it down against the base of the gravestone.

"Hey, Ethan," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the faint rustle of leaves. "I, uh… I found this at the mall. Thought you might like it." Her throat tightened. The words felt stupid, empty. He wasn't there to like it.

The silence pressed in on her, heavy and unforgiving. She clenched her fists, the nails biting into her palms. "I don't get it," she muttered, louder this time. "Why you? You didn't do anything wrong. You were just a kid."

Her vision blurred as tears welled up, and she angrily wiped them away. Crying wouldn't fix anything. It never had. She'd spent so many nights sobbing into her pillow, begging for answers she'd never get. All it ever did was leave her exhausted and hollow.

Emma swallowed hard, pulling her sleeve down over her hand to wipe at the corners of her eyes. She felt the familiar ache in her chest, that suffocating mix of guilt and anger. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the small blade she kept hidden at the bottom. Her fingers hovered over it for a moment, shaking. Then, with practiced precision, she rolled up her sleeve and pressed the edge against her skin.

The sting came immediately, sharp and real, cutting through the emotional fog. She exhaled, the release momentary but grounding. As the blood beaded along the shallow cut, she felt a strange sense of control. At least this was something she could manage, something she could feel.

When she was done, she rolled her sleeve back down, shoved the blade into her bag, and grabbed her phone.

Emma: u free? need to talk.

Emma found Alex leaning against the side of the convenience store, scrolling on his phone. His hair was still messy from whatever little sleep he'd gotten, and his hoodie looked like it hadn't seen a washer in weeks.

"Hey," he said when he spotted her, his tone careful. "You okay?"

She shrugged, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. "Not really."

He nodded like he'd been expecting that and gestured toward the park across the street. "Wanna walk?"

Emma followed him in silence, her sneakers scuffing against the cracked sidewalk. The sun was out, but it did little to cut the November chill. She hugged her arms around herself, trying to ignore the itch under her sleeve.

When they reached the park, Alex sat on a bench near the swings, and she plopped down beside him. For a while, neither of them spoke. Alex didn't push, which she appreciated.

Finally, she broke the silence. "It was my fault."

Alex blinked, confused. "What was?"

She stared at her hands. "Ethan. What happened to him. If I hadn't begged my parents to let him go to that stupid pizza place…" Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. "He'd still be here."

"Emma…" Alex's voice was soft, careful. "That's not your fault."

"It is," she snapped, tears streaming down her face before she could stop them. "You don't get it. I—he didn't even want to go, but I made him. I thought it'd be fun. And then—" Her voice caught, and she covered her face with her hands.

Alex shifted awkwardly beside her, his hands clenching and unclenching. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I don't know what to say, but… I'm sorry."

She lowered her hands, wiping her face on her sleeve. "It's not just that he's gone. It's how he's gone. I can't stop thinking about it. What happened to him. What he must've felt…" She swallowed hard. "They never even found him. Just some stupid story about a 'missing child incident.' Like that's supposed to make it better."

Alex frowned, staring at the ground. "I didn't know," he admitted.

Emma nodded, her shoulders slumping. "Nobody does. I don't—" She hesitated. "I don't talk about it. But lately…" She looked at him, her eyes desperate. "Lately, it feels like it's everywhere again. Like I can't get away from it."

Alex hesitated, then said, "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "That place. Freddy Fazbear's. They're reopening it, right? And I keep seeing it on TV, in ads, everywhere. Like they're just pretending none of it happened. Like Ethan and those other kids don't matter."

Alex's face darkened. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It's messed up."

For a while, they sat in silence again. Emma stared at the ground, picking at the frayed edge of her jeans.

Finally, Alex broke the quiet. "You know I work there now, right?"

Her head snapped up. "Wait, what?"

"I needed a job," he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Didn't really have a choice."

Emma gaped at him. "Are you serious? That place?"

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at her. "It's weird, though. The animatronics—they… I don't know. They're not right."

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated, his expression tense. "They move. On their own. And I don't mean, like, programmed movement. It's different. I don't know how to explain it, but…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

Emma's stomach twisted. "Do you think…?" She couldn't finish the question.

Alex gave her a wary look. "What?"

"Do you think it's them?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "The kids. Their… souls or whatever."

Alex didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. "I don't know. But something's definitely wrong there."

Emma's hands curled into fists. "Then we have to find out," she said firmly.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Yeah, we." She stood, her jaw set. "You're already in. And if there's even a chance that Ethan—" Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to keep going. "I need to know, Alex. I can't just sit around and pretend this doesn't matter."

He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. "Alright," he said. "But if we're doing this, we have to be careful. That place… it's not safe."

Emma nodded. "I don't care. I'm not letting this go."

As they walked back toward the street, a sense of determination settled over her. Whatever it took, she was going to get answers. For Ethan. For herself. For both of them.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

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