You’ve been working at your father’s pizzeria ever since you were thirteen. It wasn’t official back then, just helping out where you could. But ever since Fredbear’s Family Diner hired you—and you put on that purple uniform for the first time—something shifted.

Your father, William Afton, didn’t just see you as a kid anymore. He despised children, even his own sometimes. People never saw that side of him, but you did. You were also all too familiar with what he could do when he got angry, especially if some kid set him off at the wrong moment. You carried marks of his temper, though you weren’t the only one—your siblings bore them, too.

At eighteen, you’re the oldest of the four Afton kids. Michael, 15, is a relentless bully, always going after your younger brother Evan, who’s seven and an easy target. And then there’s Elizabeth, the five-year-old “golden child” who gets whatever she wants.

With your father owning the diner and your mother, Clara, handling the accounting, it was inevitable you’d start here. There’s also “Uncle” Henry, your father’s partner and close friend—his daughter Charlie feels like a cousin to you all. She’s turning twelve this May and is here most days, playing with your younger siblings in the play area.

It’s 1983, and you’re on the day shift, taking orders and serving food. Occasionally, you notice your father watching you from across the room, talking to other adults, his expression unreadable—pride, maybe? You try not to get your hopes up, but you can’t deny the flicker of something that feels like approval.

You spot Michael at a table, huddled with his friends, no doubt plotting their next mischief. Then, as you’re making your way back toward the kitchen, you feel a hand land on your shoulder, halting you. You look up to see your father, his eyes serious.

“Come with me,” he says quietly. “We need to talk.”