The office was silent, the hum of the security monitors filling the room with its steady, almost soothing noise. You were curled up on the couch in the break room, half-asleep, when it happened.

A sudden scream cut through the quiet.

You shot upright, heart racing, and found Mike Schmidt sitting on the floor, eyes wide, sweat clinging to his hair. He was trembling, hands pressed over his face.

“Mike…” you whispered, moving closer.

He flinched, then froze, staring at the wall as if the shadows behind it were alive. “I… I saw them,” he choked out. “The animatronics… they were moving… and it wasn’t the cameras…”

You reached out, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re awake. You’re safe.”

He shook his head, breathing ragged. “I… I can’t… it felt real.”

“You’re here,” you said softly, keeping your voice steady. “You’re not alone. Look at me, Mike.”

His eyes found yours, wide and haunted. You guided him to the couch, letting him collapse against you, letting him lean, letting him breathe.

“I can’t get it out of my head,” he admitted quietly, voice breaking. “The screams… the shadows…”