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Perhaps it was odd he knew. Michael, in his twenty-four years of life (well, currently three undead) knew that the little fourteen-year-old girl across the parking lot was the same girl he’d knew in his childhood.
His memories of her were faint, overshadowed by the recent activity of Freddy Fazbear’s, but she stood out. Her disappearance and death held prominent in his mind. The third death of someone he’d known, one of two in the same year. It weighed heavily at the back of his mind.
So, of course, he couldn’t help but stare as she stood, alive, just a few meters away. A few girls spoke to her, Charlotte looked at him, and by some ushering, she approached.
Peer pressure was one hell of a thing.
The girls must’ve thought he was staring because he was interested. Not much reason else to stare, Michael guessed, but even still. Michael himself appeared to be in his late teens, considering his “death” a couple of years back, his appearance hadn’t changed much. He only seemed human because of the re-coded sound disk his father had created sometime in his golden days before he vanished off the face of the earth.
“Hey,” Charlotte greeted, shyly like she didn’t know how.
“Hey,” Michael said back. They stare at each other quietly for a moment. “I’m sorry.” Michael finally decides on, and Charlotte looks rightfully confused. “For staring,” he continued with a shrug. “I just think you looked like someone I knew.”
The Charlotte look-alike nods in understanding, seeming relieved by this new knowledge. “What was her name?” She asks after another awkward moment.
“Charlotte,” Michael responds, and the girls head snaps up surprised.
“That is my name?” she says.
“Oh, wow.” He breathed. “That’s strange.”
“I lived in Hurricane for a few years,” Charlotte says. “Did I know you then?”
“Between what years?” Michael asked.
“Nineteen eighty to nineteen eighty-five.”
“Yeah, I was there around the time,” Michael muttered. “Was your dad Henry Emily?”
Charlotte paled, like seeing a ghost. “Yes.”
Michael stopped breathing altogether and stared at Charlotte. There was no way she was alive and yet. Here she was alive and in front of him.
“I need to talk to Aunt Jen.” She says suddenly. “Come with me.”
Well, it’s not like Michael had anything better to do.