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Why, why was this happening to him?
Every night, he locked him in his room. Every night, no, every day, those same animatronics would come out. It was like Evan’s father knew, like he was trying to scare him. And he was trying incessantly.
Every day, Evan would cry. He would sob. Nothing could calm his nerves, not even the plush Fredbear toy that his father so kindly gifted him just before this mess began. In fact, the plush only made it worse. It only reminded him more of the horrible night terrors that seemed so, so real.
Before this, Evan loved Fredbear’s Family Diner. He absolutely adored the establishment, and not just because his father ran it. The animatronics, despite how dirty and ragged they looked up close, were adorable in the child’s eyes. Now, the key word present in that sentence would be were .
These horrible monsters, the lethal, terrifying creatures of the night, were not the animatronics he once knew. They were most definitely not the funny, cute animals that he saw at his father’s workplace from time to time. But they looked so similar, they had to be. Evan’s young mind argued with itself, leaving the terrified boy just to sit and to keep those thoughts in the back of his head. Whether they were the same as Fredbear and friends, they were there… and they were terrifying.
“Hey, Michael,” that idiotic friend of his brother’s spoke with his loud voice, “your brother’s kind of a crybaby, isn’t he?” Oh, how badly Evan wished he could muster the pride to stick up for himself. Why were they insulting him on his birthday? Why wasn’t his father doing anything about it?
No, he’s not a crybaby. He’s not anything like you say he is! If you had to go through all of the shit he did, you’d be having a fit on the floor too! His father knew. He always cried to him, sobbing and whining about how awful his night terrors were, how awful the animatronics were. So why is he here now, at Fredbear’s Family Diner, celebrating his birthday?
Michael’s friends snickered and smiled at Evan’s trembling body as he lay on the stained carpet, struggling to keep himself from wailing so hard he popped his eyes out of their sockets. This is my party, he thought to himself. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone!
“Why don’t we help him get a closer look?” The boy’s eyes shot open, almost painfully from how tight they were shut, sealed with tears. “I’m sure he’ll love it,” Michael boomed. Evan’s entire body sprung up into a crab-like position, using as much force as he could to get away from the hoard of older kids that were harassing him.
“No, please!” There was no point in his pleading, he knew they weren’t going to listen. But the thoughts kept rushing through his head, why isn’t his father doing anything? Where is he?
“Come on guys, let’s give this little man a lift,” one of the older kids said. “He wants to get up close and personal!” No, no, Evan couldn’t even plead. Not a word could come out of his mouth as his body was lifted off the ground, moving straight toward his worst fear.
“Please stop,” was all that Evan could say. He knew no violence, not like these monsters did. Not like his brother and his friends did. Couldn’t they see he was suffering? Wasn’t he being clear enough?
“What was that? You want to give Fredbear a kiss? How cute,” Michael chuckled, gripping harder onto the arm he was holding onto. Evan was completely traumatized at this point, no doubt he would remember this for the rest of his life. “On three,”
All Evan could do was wait. All he could do was wait for it to be over, as his head and front half of his body was introduced to Fredbear’s mechanical insides. His vision was dark, it was terrifying, there was nothing. Just the balance of his body inside the animatronic’s mouth and the other half dangling out of the head like loose threads.
Tears flowed down his face, but not a noise emerged from his mouth. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even cry. Just tears, just salty, pathetic tears. He could hear the snickering, the snorting, the whispers. Those idiots, why couldn’t they listen? Why didn’t they listen? Crack. The same dripping noise, a different substance.
Drip, drip, drip.
If only they had listened.
They will listen.
He will listen.