It’s but a moment that I realize I’m caught in a death metal grip. Literally.
I can just barely make out the golden felt fur lining this thing’s arms with what little lighting seeps through the hole I left in the wall. Foxy has vanished from us, leaving me here.
Alone. Alone with this undead stranger.
My arms pry at his own locked around my stomach to push them away. I can’t muster the needed strength to wedge a gap big enough to slip through. It seems he’s barely trying.
In a panic induced state, I frantically kick at the air, his legs and claw at anything within reach as if I were a bird left in a cage far too small.
But the grip got tighter until I felt my bones compressing, fighting the urge to crack inside my body under the excruciating pressure. Again, I scream.
Not to anyone this time, but out of sheer pain and terror.
“Shhh, Doll. You don’t want them to hear you. You’re safe now.” Somehow, his reassuring words tasted like lies in his mouth, spoken to get me to stop violently thrashing around.
That and his pet name feels degrading.
Accepting defeat so suddenly tears through the lessons my father used to teach me before my parents split. I never give up.
But refusing to fight doesn’t always mean giving into the demands of another. I haven’t lost my will or hope yet. I’m not done. “I can’t- breathe!”
”Really? Well I can’t either. Glad we can agree on something.” With that, I’m dropped back to the floor, body sagging like a dead weight against the stained tiles.
My breath finally reenters my lungs after much effort and heaving to retrieve it. I can hear Spring Bonnie back up a couple paces behind me.
My eyes linger on the floor for a hot minute before regaining the courage to address the animatronic. I can hardly spot his silhouette in the dark.
Only the silver eyes can be easily seen peering down at my bloodied form. Silver eyes... but not like the others.
I can just barely make out his full eyes whereas the others merely held pin pricks of white in the empty sockets of their heads.
Does this mean he’s not hostile? But why? Why was he back here all this time and never tried getting out?
He appears rather impatient and... uncomfortable(?) the longer I stare at him in the dark. “I can’t read minds, girl.”
I gulp and rake at my scrambled brain to speak English. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll even get out a sentence. But to no avail.
My fingers grip the ground, double checking the reality of the situation while I choke out odd noises, words getting caught in my throat.
“Fine.” For a moment, the lights in his eyes disappear. Somehow, that’s scarier than seeing them watching me. They illuminate the shadows soon after though.
He must have blinked or closed his eyes to think of something quickly. “It’s been a while since I last saw anybody. A long time. I’m sure you want to leave, mmm, I’ll even walk you out.
” Briefly, I swear I can pick up the slightest hint of an accent. It’s not like Chica’s and her thick country one. This accent was oddly more authentic and... British.
The thought is swiftly cast away as he continues. “But only if you participate in one simple game. Just one.”
Theres a catch. Of course there’s a catch. I don’t even know who this thing is or why he'd save me, so who knows what kind of "game" I’ll be left playing.
I have several hours left before the machines shut down and my shift ends. I guess I don’t really have much of a choice.
“What kind of game?” It’s astonishing that my voice doesn’t crack when I ask him.
“A question kind of game. Easy, see? Just answer them honestly and the best you can.
” The rabbit stalks over to the opening in the wall, effectively blocking the rest of the world from me. I can still barely see him, but his figure is much more pronounce now.
It seems half of his right ear has broken off.
Sitting up, I nod with a wince. The tear in my back makes it impossible for me to sit up straight.
I don't understand what someone like him could do with information about me, so it can't be too damaging to answer him. "Will I get a chance to ask some things too?"
"No, it'd be dreadfully boring if you knew everything so soon. What's the date?"
That question is enough to hint that my theory was correct. He's been trapped in here for a long time and the boss doesn't want anyone to find him for some strange reason.
"It's April 7th... 1998." For some reason, his figure's shoulders bounce up and down as if he were laughing and then I pick up an almost inaudible chuckle under his breath.
"Five years? For some reason, I imagined they'd do a better job of keeping me safe from prying eyes.
How'd you find me? Must've been easy considering someone like you came busting through that hole. They're sloppy. Freddy couldn't even catch you. Almost impressive.
" The excited words spill from his mouth so quickly I almost can't follow. Spring Bonnie comes down to a crouching position in front of me.
His silver eyes searching for some emotion or reaction from me.
I'm not sure if he got what he was looking for, but I definitely pick out both amusement and pent up wrath reflecting in his own. When I don't immediately answer, he drops another question.
For this one he seems more interested like he wants a serious answer. He speaks slower and quieter now. "Was anyone looking for me at all?"
I can only imagine he hopes someone was searching the ends of the earth to find him especially if he's... like the other animatronics.
"Unless you're one of the five kids that disappeared about ten years ago, then I don't believe..." I don't need to finish my sentence.
He's not one of the kids because he was first trapped in this room five years ago, in '93. The dates don't add up. He visibly deflates in front of me, gaze dropping to the floor beneath us.
His good ear falls forward some as well, looming over his golden head. Ah, it would seem this stranger was hoping someone cared enough to come looking, but the only person to find him was me.