Mike Schmidt had been working the night shift at Freddy Fazbear’s for a few weeks, and he thought he had seen everything. Flickering lights, moving animatronics, security cameras freezing at the wrong moment—he had grown used to the constant tension.

Then you appeared.

You weren’t a coworker. Not exactly. You were… familiar. The way your eyes flicked to the shadows, the way your hands twitched whenever a monitor blinked—you moved through the office like someone who had survived something far worse than a long night shift.

“Wait,” Mike said, pausing as he studied you. “You… you were a kid here, weren’t you?”

You nodded slowly, voice quiet. “I survived… an incident. Freddy’s didn’t let me forget it.”

He blinked. “The Bite…”

You didn’t answer right away. The memories were sharp but distant—flashes of laughter and song, the sound of animatronic gears, the sudden jolt of pain, the chaos and screaming. You had made it out, but some part of you never left that building.

Mike moved closer, concern written across his face. “You shouldn’t have to be here. Not after what happened.”

“I know,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “But I came back for a reason. Someone has to understand… or at least try.”

He nodded slowly, tension easing from his shoulders. “You’ve been through so much… and you’re still here.”