The Bond

Ch 29

"Bold."/"Bold italic" : animatronic is talking/animatronic is talking in mind

"Normal."/"Normal italic." : human is talking/human is talking in mind

=o^o=

Blank white.

Empty.

Silence.

There is only him.

With a young boy.

Face to face.

The young boy holding his doll tightly.

He gripped the mask tightly.

The tears that flowed, the bright sky-coloured nets revealed sadness.

Michael immediately woke up from his dream.

He was panting, cold sweat running down his face, his chest tight. His whole body was shaking, Michael felt the hairs on his neck stand up simultaneously and made him shudder in the darkness of the room. His head felt dizzy, hallucinations of voices began to appear making his ears hurt.

"Terrance—Terrance please stop! Please—Terrance—please don't do that... Terrance—no I don't want to get close to Fredbear! Terrance! Terrance put me down—I beg you, Terrance!"

Michael covered his ears, gritting his teeth hard.

A shriek of surprise and a commotion began to form, blood seeping out of the iron mouth, which dripped onto the frozen fox masked teenager.

"What are you doing?!"

"I—I didn't mean—"

"I didn't mean to ... kill him ...."

Sobs began to be heard, faintly. It felt very short of breath, as if suffocating. His fingernails dug into the skin of his arms anxiously, the corners of his lips torn from biting too hard to stifle a cry.

"He died because of you."

"I'm disappointed in you."

His body trembled more and more, he grabbed his brown hair tightly, the feeling of regret that enveloped him grew even more intense.

All eyes were on him as he walked down the corridor. All stares were fixed on him. All gazes that show the same thing; disbelief, fear, hatred. All the whispers that say the same thing;

"Very heartless."

"Even his own brother, I'm very sorry for his family."

"Accident or not, it's all still his fault."

It's all still his fault.

"Murderer."

Murderer.

Murderer.

Mur—

"Afton!"

"I didn't mean to kill him!" Michael shouted hoarsely, his eyes brimming with tears. "I ... if only I hadn't ... it's all my fault ...." His face hidden behind his knees bent to his chest, Michael cried silently. "He could have stayed alive if I hadn't put his head in ... he could have stayed alive ...."

A small sob dominated the silence in the room. Michael's thoughts and feelings raged like a hurricane. There were too many things that made him very guilty.

The silhouette of his brother in the dream just made him crying even worse.

All the chaos that arises now stems from his actions in the past. His youngest brother wouldn't have died if he didn't shove his head in, his younger sister wouldn't have died if he had watched her properly in that place, her parents wouldn't have left him alone if none of that happened.

It all started with him.

Scooper was karma for him.

"Afton, look over here."

Byur!

Or maybe Ennard.

Michael coughed right after Ennard splashed him with a cold glass of water. His eyes stung from the water, and he could feel his nose congested, his upper clothes wet.

"You—insolent!" Michael snapped angrily, but Ennard ignored him; Ennard took another glass still filled with water and splashed his face for the second time. Michael choked on the water that was pouring on him, for a moment Michael thought he was really going to die from choking. "Stop it! You got the mattress wet—are you stupid?!"

The animatronic shrugged his shoulders. "I thought you need to freshen up your face."

Ennard really was karma for him.

"Fucking bastard," Michael growled in annoyance, he took off his top and put the shirt on to wipe his wet face. Ennard glanced secretly at Michael's stomach—the bandage wasn't wet, meaning the water didn't hit the bandage. "What?"

"What, you say?" Ennard asked back in disbelief. "You're babbling incoherently! What is it? Nightmare?"

Michael snorted. "You don't need to know."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Asshole."

For a few minutes Michael was silent, only Ennard muttering in front of him—which Michael knew Ennard must be grumbling. Michael lowered his gaze, his eyebrows knit together at the fresh wound he had pierced his fingernail into his arm, though his mind was thinking different things.

Suddenly an iron fist tugged at his arm carefully, causing Michael to gasp in surprise.

"I did say to take care of your body, didn't I?"

Michael snorted, took his arm from Ennard and stroked his wrist lightly. "None of your business," he muttered. "Why do you care? You're just using me for your own gain."

"I never said I cared," Ennard retorted turning his head at Michael, and the reply made Michael grit his teeth. "Or do you want at least someone to really care about you, hm? You hope so, Afton?"

Ennard's words silenced Michael, he pursed his lips and his eyes glanced the other way, his forehead furrowed deep and he felt very annoyed.

Ennard wasn't wrong.

"Get lost," Michael said quietly, laying back down on the other side of the bed that wasn't wet, his back to Ennard.

Moments later he heard the bedroom door closing, and Michael began to curl up, the mixed feelings wouldn't bring him back to sleep. 

However, Ennard remained there until morning came, he never left.