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“What’s wrong with you?”
Peeling open half-closed, heavy eyelids, Vanessa peered down at the boy in front of her. His question was all judgment and no concern, and his body language expressed that perfectly, from his wrinkled nose, to his eyes that raked her form up and down, all the way to the slight cock in his posture. He wasn’t asking this because he was worried about her, he was asking because he was being nosy and most likely didn’t want to catch whatever she had.
“Nothing,” Vanessa said, straightening up. Doing so sent a 21-gun salute exploding all throughout her lower back, like a careless father had somehow accidentally lit an entire tub of fireworks inside of the garage. She clenched her jaw to keep from reacting, but Gregory still seemed to catch her flash of discomfort anyway, taking a step back like she was suddenly patient zero for the newest strand of the Bubonic Plague.
“Are you sick?” he asked her, disgust curling around his words. In a way, she could understand his germaphobic tendencies- he lived in a Pizzaplex with no real access to healthcare, aside from the infirmary, but even that was pretty few and far between in terms of medical supplies. If he got badly sick or injured, he’d be screwed. Going to the hospital would probably put him in debt, despite being a child, and get him thrown back into foster care. Still, that didn’t mean he had to be a brat about it.
“No, I’m not sick,” Vanessa answered, matching his snark.
“Well, you look sick,” Gregory pointed out snobbily. “You look awful.”
“Thank you so much for that, you little shit,” Vanessa growled softly, to which Gregory smirked in return.
“Seriously, though, are you dying or something?” Gregory pestered her further. She already had a backache, she was going to get a headache, too, if he didn’t stop talking soon.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Vanessa said dismissively, gliding past him. “Don’t you have Freddy to bother?”
She heard Gregory huff, but she didn’t turn around to fully gauge his reaction. Instead, she kept walking until she reached one of the bathrooms, which she then went inside of to do her business.
Blood.
There was blood in her urine.
If the fact that peeing felt like peeing literal liquid fire didn’t tell her that something was wrong, then this definitely did.
Vanessa sighed heavily.
She had a kidney infection.
The good news was it wasn’t the Stones. Those had a very distinct pain that she could recognize from a mile away. Instead, this pain was bone-deep and throbbing, like a bruise that was being beaten several times with a baseball bat. It was bad, but not mind-shattering. But that didn’t mean it didn’t make her suffer any less.
The bad news of this situation came in the form of a very unmistakable sensation of burning right at the entrance of her urethra. It was like an old blind woman had just rubbed salt all over the opening because she mistook Vanessa’s piss hole for the salmon her family was meant to have for dinner. It wasn’t exactly excruciating, but it was definitely annoying and she would have enjoyed it if it were, to go away.
It didn’t. Just her luck.
Vanessa had no choice but to continue her work. She had five hours left and liked being paid so she could keep her apartment, so she did her best to power through it, even if it did feel like Satan was camping out in her bladder the whole time.
When Vanessa went to the West Arcade, she was immediately greeted by the sound of electronic music. Despite her discomfort, it brought a smile to her face, and she went over to say hello to the DJ.
“DJ MUSIC MAN IN THE HOUSE!!!” she shouted, throwing her arms up into the air. Doing this had become a sort of tradition for her whenever she came to this specific area of the Pizzaplex—it also caused her side to throb in disagreement.
DJ Music Man looked over from where he was attending to his DJ booth and pointed to her, smiling widely. The music playing changed from something you would hear at a club, to something more frantic, bearing a strange, flickering texture with a deep hum of the bass beneath the synthesizers. Vanessa believed it was her theme, as it played when she would come by. DJ Music Man made songs for everyone thanks to his improv feature.
Vanessa patted the edge of the huge animatronic’s DJ booth, grinning up at him. “How are you doing, big guy?” she asked.
DJ Music Man made a sound similar to a disk scratching on a turntable, indicating his brightened mood, but he gave a thumbs up for good measure. He then pointed to her and tilted his head.
“Me?” Vanessa said. “Oh, I’m doing fine.”
DJ Music Man didn’t seem to be very convinced, as he stopped jamming out to stoop low in front of her, getting his face very close to her own. Vanessa knew he would never hurt her, he was probably the most docile animatronic in the whole establishment, but she still took a wary step back anyway.
“Woah there,” she said, holding her hands out in front of her. “Personal space, buddy. We’ve been working on this.”
DJ Music Man ignored her to point at her again and tilt his head once more. He seemed more adamant on an honest answer this time.
“What? I told you I’m fine,” Vanessa said.
He didn’t relent. One of his giant fingers prodded her in the stomach, and although his touch was extremely gentle, it still made something inside of Vanessa twinge, then ache. She bit the inside of her cheek until strips of flesh came off.
“Not nice,” she said while pushing his finger away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the bathroom. Keep making those sick beats, bud.”
DJ Music Man watched her go, but she didn’t stop.
Vanessa loved feeling like she was pissing porcupines. The sharp stab and intense burn in her urethra was so bad she had to grip the edges of the toilet seat for grounding like she was preparing to blast off to the moon like Apollo-fucking-9. Sweat prickled all across her forehead, and a fever broiled in the base of her neck. Her hands were shaking when she went to wipe her face.
Vanessa lapped sink water from her cupped hands like she was an overheated dog, which was extremely degrading because she didn’t like dogs, but she was too thirsty to really care at the moment. All the moisture in her mouth felt sucked dry, so she was desperate to drink something, even nasty tap water.
Raising her head, droplets of water dripped from Vanessa’s gaping mouth as she panted, also like a dog. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, taking notice of how disheveled she looked: hair tousled and sweat-damp around the crown, skin stark white and waxy with perspiration, eyes bloodshot and wet.
Just out of the corner of her vision, she thought she noticed something looming in the bathroom doorway, and upon actually turning, she took in the sight of something huge peering inside, watching her.
She screamed.
“OH MY GOD!” Vanessa yelled, lurching back. “What the hell, man?!”
DJ Music Man stared at her innocently. Vanessa set a hand on her chest, feeling her heart race against her ribs, and breathed out a breath of relief.
“Jesus… Don’t do that! Don’t watch people when they’re in the bathroom!”
DJ Music Man replied with a noise that was similar to someone running their hands down the keys of a keyboard. Vanessa sighed; she couldn’t stay mad at him.
Walking out of the bathroom, DJ Music Man pointed to her and tilted his head, once again asking if she was alright. Vanessa sighed.
“At this point, I don’t even know.”
It was three AM, and Vanessa had probably lost at least twenty pounds by peeing already. Her bladder felt like the home of a small, scaly, fire-breathing reptile that torched her insides each time she moved. What was worse, though, was the persistent burning in her urethra, like someone had tried to clean it out with sriracha and lemon juice. The fever, chills, and dehydration didn’t help, either.
Right now, she had decided to take a break from her rounds and stop in Bonnie Bowl. Gregory and the other animatronics were having a mini tournament, so she watched from one of the tables, too tired and uncomfortable to participate.
She wasn’t sure how long she was like that, hunched over with her hot forehead pressed to the cold tabletop, but she was eventually roused by the feeling of a hand against her back. It made her jump, but when she looked up, it was only Freddy, smiling at her warmly.
“May I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair next to Vanessa.
“Sure, go ahead,” Vanessa answered.
Freddy did so. He glanced over at the bowling alley; Monty was up to bowl, and Roxy kept taunting him, saying he’ll miss.
“Who’s winning?” Vanessa asked.
“Chica,” Freddy told her. “She is the only one who has not gotten a gutter ball yet.”
Vanessa gave a small laugh. It made her bladder twitch in a warning.
Freddy looked back at her. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah, I’m just a little tired, that’s all,” Vanessa said dismissively.
“You have a fever,” Freddy pointed out.
“From being tired.”
Freddy didn’t look very convinced, but he wasn’t one to prod, so he said, “Well…if you begin to worsen, please let me know. Perhaps I can do something to help ease your discomfort. I do not like seeing you unwell.”
However, his sweet words were drowned out by the loud humming of anxiety that built up in Vanessa’s head as something hot and wet bloomed all throughout her groin.
Oh god.
“Ihavetogotothebathroom—” It all came out rushed and mashed together, but Vanessa didn’t have time to correct herself as she got up and damn near flew to the nearest bathroom.
Good news: she didn’t just piss her pants like a toddler on a ten-hour road trip.
Bad news: she just got an extra special delivery of red blood cells shipped directly to her pants.
There was blood everywhere, to the point where it almost seemed like her femoral artery had somehow been slashed and started spraying all over the place. Her inner thighs and groin were slick with it, and now several different trails were getting a little too acquainted with her legs as they dripped down her skin. She did her best to mop it up with toilet paper, but it had already soaked in her pants. The black fabric would conceal a stain—at least, she hoped—but the pungent smell of iron would begin to permeate. She wouldn’t be able to finish her shift like this.
Vanessa leaned against the stall wall, covering her face with her hands, which bore the scent of her blood. Humiliation burned as hot as her fever did, and for good reason. This was absolutely embarrassing. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of this situation.
Suddenly, the bathroom door opened and footsteps entered. A familiar voice echoed throughout the room.
“Vanessa?”
It was Chica.
“Vanessa, are you in here? Freddy sent me to check on you.” She paused for just a moment. “Is that blood? Are you bleeding?”
Whose idea was it to give the robots the ability to smell? For what reason would they need to?
“Vanessa?”
“I— I’m in here,” Vanessa said, her voice stammering.
“Are you alright?” Chica asked.
Vanessa breathed out a small, shaking breath. “No, not really. Can you do me a favor?”
“Of course! What do you need?”
“Okay…so in the storage room, there should be some spare uniforms for the workers. Can you get me the one for security guards? Mine…mine are a little dirty.”
“What happened?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it. Can you please just get them for me?”
“Got it. Hang tight.”
She left, leaving Vanessa alone with her own suffering.
Vanessa ended up lowering herself to the ground, having to sit in her sticky, wet pants, when nausea welled up within her. She hovered over the toilet, taking shallow breaths and breathing in the fumes of her own blood. It made her feel even sicker, but she was in too much pain to move to a different stall.
Chica returned eventually, sliding the uniform beneath the stall. Vanessa’s entire body ached as she changed into the pants, and she ended up finally vomiting when her stomach had enough of all the pain.
While bringing her guts up through her mouth, a tender hand rubbed circles against her aching back. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Chica kneeling there, giving her a sympathetic look.
“You should have told us you were sick,” Chica murmured. “You know we wouldn’t ever judge you.”
“Gregory would,” Vanessa muttered.
“I’ll have Freddy talk to him,” Chica said. “For now, why don’t you lay down in my green room? You look like you need some rest.”
Vanessa sighed, relenting. “Alright. Wait. How did you even get in here? I locked the stall door…”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Did you rip the door off?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Sometime later, Vanessa awoke with a gasp, jerking out from the bonds of her fever-induced nightmare. Her skin was coated in a slick of cold sweat, but it felt more like blood in her addled state. She couldn’t breathe, animal sounds of panic tearing from her throat, refusing to be repressed. When something touched her shoulder, she expected it to hurt.
“Shh, shh, it’s alright, you’re alright…” a soothing voice whispered to her.
Looking to the side, Vanessa saw Chica kneeling there, a hand on her shoulder.
“Nightmare?” Chica asked.
“Yeah,” Vanessa answered softly.
Chica frowned, brushing a strand of sweat-soaked hair out of Vanessa’s face. “You’re alright now, honeybun. It wasn’t real. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Vanessa gave a small nod. She then winced as the pain in her side and back registered, quickly followed by the ache of her bladder. Her urethra stung, like she was being sounded by a cattle prod.
Heaving a sigh, Vanessa began to stand up.
“I’ll be back,” she said tiredly.
“Bathroom again?”
“Yep.”
When Vanessa returned to Chica’s green room, limping with every step because of how sore her insides were, the other band members were inside. They looked over at her when she entered.
“How are you feeling?” Freddy asked.
“Awful,” Vanessa answered honestly. “Do any of you want a kidney? I’ll give it to you for free.”
They all laughed.
“You just need to rest,” Chica said, guiding her back over to the couch. “And drink more water.”
“We’ll help you get better!” Roxy said, smirking widely.
“I suggested watching a movie,” Freddy said. “It is relaxing enough to keep you entertained while you rest.”
Vanessa nodded. “A movie sounds nice, actually. But I left my laptop in the office.”
“I’ll get it!” Monty said. “I have to grab the frog, anyway.”
Vanessa blinked. “What? What frog?”
They all then smirked.
“Get the frog,” Chica said.
Monty ran out of the room. Vanessa still had no idea what they meant until a stuffed frog was suddenly hurled at her face.
“We thought you would like it,” Freddy explained.
“Ah,” Vanessa nodded and nuzzled her face against the fur of the stupid thing when nobody was looking because it meant so much more than a piece of fabric with some stuffing inside.
She sank back against the couch as the other animatronics piled against her. Chica was to her left, and Vanessa was tucked under the animatronic’s arm like how a mother hen would hood its chick with its wing. To her right was Monty, curled up like how a dog would lay, with Roxy half-reclined over his back in the same position. Freddy was right next to Chica. The laptop was set up in front of them.
There was a lump in Vanessa’s throat, but it wasn’t caused by her stupid kidneys. She quickly tried to swallow it.
The peace lasted a few more minutes before the whole band was arguing over what to watch. Their voices might be annoying, actually, if Vanessa didn’t feel like she might cry instead because she had never had someone care for her like this. Love her the way these animatronics did right now.
So, she closed her eyes and willed the tightness in her throat to go away. It rose instead, and tears dripped from her closed eyes, splattered over the edge of the blanket she was swaddled in and onto Chica’s legs. It went unnoticed for a while, and Vanessa held it tight, bit down on her lip, and squeezed her eyes tighter. But the tears accumulated on Chica’s leg, and the hand rubbing up and down her side stopped moving.
“Vanessa?” Chica whispered, leaning over in an attempt to see Vanessa’s face. “Honeybun, are you okay?”
A whimper bubbled forth. All the animatronics perked up in alertness.
“What’s wrong?”
“No,” Vanessa murmured. She sat up, and the tears running down her cheeks glistened in the dim light of the room. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s right. It’s all just so right.”
The animatronics looked stunned, and it made Vanessa laugh weakly. She was trying to wipe away the tears, but they just kept coming.
“I just— thank you all for taking care of me. Wanting to be with me right now. I’ve never… I’ve never had something like that. It was nice. It was really nice.”
Chica was the one that crushed her into a hug, whispering ‘always’ into her ear. The other three weren’t far behind, and Vanessa had never felt so loved before.