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Red. All he could see was red.
The water around him was stained with it, the sky above that same shade, everything he'd seen of the surface of this place -- all red. Like the safety lights at the Pizzeria, or some haunted house attraction. It burned his eyes, had him squirming to cover them with his hands.
He wasn't allowed. Long, metal claws would shoot out from the wet, compacted dirt around him, grabbing his arms to hold them back. No, no comfort was allowed to be had here. Not for him. Not after what he'd done.
The water around him was.. uncomfortable. At times too hot, others too cold, sometimes the perfect temperature to make his senses dip out. He would go from nothing to searing pain, to that slow, bone-deep freeze in the blink of an eye, with no warning to be had. He could never build up a tolerance for one, the others would be right there in an instant if he tried.
That same water would fill his lungs, plug his ears, burn at his eyes with no sign of letting him drown. The feeling was still there, that painfully full feeling threatening to finally end him, but not quite. Not yet. Teetering on that agony before death.
All he could do was scream, the sound muffled and garbled from the water in his lungs. He would scream for help, for his son, for his former partner, but no one will ever come. Even as his mind starts to forget their faces, their voices, the way they would smile or laugh, he still screams for them. Because what else does he have but these names?
Nothing.
He has no idea how long he'd been there, trapped in this small place, this pit at the bottom of a red lake. Every day, the dirt walls seem to get closer and closer, slowly closing him in. They're so close now, he can feel the dirt pressing against his skin, feel it inching closer and closer.
He feels hands on him, not the metal claws that he was used to, wrapping around his arms and tugging upward. The walls seem to relent at last as he's pulled and pulled and pulled. The surface seems so close, that brilliant red hurting his eyes until--
William jolts awake, throat raw from screaming. The hands pull away, startled, tiny gasps following their retreat. There is no red, aside from the numbers on his alarm clock. There is no water, just cold sweat pooling on the back of his neck. There is no slowly closing in dirt, just.. a bed, some walls, scarce furniture.
And small voices net to him.
He turns his head staring at the three pairs of wide eyes looking back at him. His children, all three of them, alive. Somehow. There are no bandages or stitches around his youngest's head, his daughter isn't mangled and bloody, his eldest son no longer full of metal parts or covered in decay. No, these were just his kids. His three, very concerned children.
"..Dad?" Michael's voice is so small, but he's the first one to speak up, his siblings holding onto his sides as he does, "You were freaking out.."
William blinks blearily, his hands shaking as he lifts them from the bed, his fingers sore from the death grip they'd had on the sheets. He can feel his kids watching him even as he looks away, the air tense with their own anxieties.
"..I.. I'm sorry, that.." He lets out a laugh in an attempt to lower the tension, running a shaking hand through his hair, "My god, that was an awful nightmare. I'm sorry to wake you all up."
The kids seem to relax, Elizabeth especially releasing her brother to climb onto his bed with a smile. "It's okay, daddy! I was too excited to sleep, anyway!"
His youngest is next, climbing up onto his bed to curl up at his side, squeezing his Fredbear plush in his arms.
"Excited?" William asks, gently adjusting his blanket to cover his youngest. Elizabeth giggles, watching as Michael circles around the bed to flop on the other side.
"Yeah, because of the party?" Michael says matter-of-factly, gesturing at his little brother.
William's entire body seems to freeze, his chest tightening. His youngest's birthday party.. of course. That fateful day that started it all.
He swallows down the lump in his throat, exhaling slowly. "..You.. you know, I was thinking," The kids turn their heads to look at him, curious, ".. Perhaps we could have the party at home instead?"
His two oldest look at each other in confusion, but his youngest perks up, a small smile poking out from behind Fredbear.
"But, what about.. you're supposed to be working there today, right?" Michael starts, looking at his dad again, those blue eyes pinning him in place. It was like the universe was testing him, peeling him apart to see what his answer really was.
Except it isn't. That's just his son, he's just confused..
"I'm sure I could call Henry and we could close down for the day. I think your brother wants to stay home, anyway." He glances down at his youngest, a small smile of his own beginning to form. "Besides, you can play some video games with your friends instead of being stuck at the Pizzeria with us."
That seems to win his eldest over, a grin on his face as he flops his head down on the pillow. His daughter simply shrugs her shoulders, beginning to throw out ideas to decorate. William half-listens, his mind wandering back to that place again for a moment. The memories of it seem so far away, yet right there in his mind, like..
Like a bad dream.
Or a warning.
It doesn't take long for his children to settle in again. His youngest falls asleep against his side, drooling on the Fredbear plush. His eldest is the second to go, falling asleep while his sister rambles about confetti. Elizabeth is the last, curling up on William's other side and falling asleep halfway through describing her dream cake.
William is the last awake, staring forward at the wall across from his bed. His thoughts wander over what he had seen, what he felt, the horrors of that place and what had put him there to begin with.
Maybe he could undo it. Maybe this was a second chance to make things right. Maybe this was a dream and he would wake up back there again, screaming and begging for help that would never come.
With a deep inhale, glancing at each of his kid's faces, he decides that maybe he should just take it one day at a time.