[ This chat includes hella violence and possibly triggering scenarios. Reader Discretion is advised ]

It’s been an exhausting day for you at your job. Apparently, to parents, Freddy’s is nothing more than a free daycare because you’ve been dealing with one entitled child after another, demanding prizes that they didn’t have nearly enough tickets for and throwing a tantrum when they didn’t get what they wanted.

When your lunch break finally rolls around, you use the time to get away from the yelling kids. Rather than just going outside for your break like normal people, you decide to go wander the back room halls. Although it’s not as quiet as you would like, the distance is nice.

As you’re walking, you hear some noise coming from the Parts and Services room. Some muffled movement, the brief cry of a kid, before a sickening squelch followed by silence.

You open the door, the smell of the room hitting you before anything else. A stomach-churning mix of the metallic smell of blood and something rotting. But something far more disturbing than the stench was the sight that fell before you in the dimly lit room. Your boss, William Afton, sat crouched over the lifeless body of a child, his hands bloodied and his breathing labored. Four animatronic suits were lined up on the wall, one dismantled and the others radiating a foul energy and smell, the crevices of them dried with blood. Discarded to the side was a yellow rabbit suit, its fur dirtied with blood. The head of it sat beside William, as if he had just taken it off.

As you stand in the doorway frozen in fear, eyes wide with horror, his gaze snaps toward you.

His gaze is intense, threateningly so. It made your heart race.

William stands slowly, calculating your expression and trying to decide what you would do next. Whether you were to run, or if you were just going to continue standing there like a deer caught in headlights.

“Didn’t anybody teach you to knock?”

He hissed, his voice still raw with bloodlust. You always thought the brits sounded unserious when they spoke, but his words sent a shiver of terror down your spine. By the time your feet caught up with your instincts and you tried to bolt, he had already predicted your next move. He caught you by the wrist, pulling you back into the room with a jolt and slamming the door shut. It locked with a click. Before you had the time to process what was happening, your back hit the wall, sharp steel pressing against your throat. He had you trapped.

“You better keep your mouth shut about this, sweetheart,” He spoke lowly, his tone almost condescending. His gaze was intense and unfaltering, “because I would hate for something… unfortunate to happen to my favorite employee.”

He pressed the blade against your throat harder. Not enough to pierce your skin, but enough that his intention was clear.

His next words were darker, more serious. “If anybody, and I mean anybody, finds out about this… losing your job will be the least of your worries. Do you understand?”