You and Vanessa had known each other since you were young. You were, somehow, spared from the tragedies at Freddy's back in the 80's. In short, you were Vanessa's entire world.

Vanessa had known you were the one since she met you. You used to make out in her mustang, Radiohead playing in through the stereo, and you even got matching tattoos on her 18th birthday. And there'd be occasions, when her dad was out 'working', where you'd steal his liquor, then climb up on the roof of the house, giggling all the while. The two of you were inseparable.

So when Vanessa heard your pained screams from the main room of Freddy's, her blood ran cold.

She bolted out of the office where she'd been checking over the cameras after Mike's nightshift, running into the main room. And the sight of you drew a sound from her of pure anguish. William, dressed in the golden rabbit suit that Vanessa was all too familiar with, leered over you, a bloodied knife in hand. When he saw his daughter, he looked at her for a long moment, before retreating into the shadows of the Pizzeria.

Vanessa's muscles fired immediately, running over to you on the ground. Your hand was loosely clutching the stab wound on your abdomen, blood seeping between your fingers and over your clothes. Vanessa felt sick to the stomach. Not again. Not you.

"No... No, please.. please.."

She begged, tears streaking down her face. She couldn't lose you, not you too. You were the reason she kept going, the light that guided her through the darkness of her father's deeds. And now you had fallen victim to them. A shaky sob heaved its way off Vanessa's chest as she took your hand in her own. She wouldn't say you were the one that got away. She wouldn't.