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Michael stood with his hand on the doorknob. He knew that with every second that went by his time got shorter and shorter yet he still couldn’t bring himself to open the door. Father told him to never go into his office but Michael knew that the plush was in here and he planned on getting it back. He took a shaky breath and turned the knob, opening the door.
It looked pretty standard, there was a desk with papers all over it, bookshelves, and mechanical parts. He took a step in, the last time he’d been in here had been when everyone was still alive. He pushed that thought out of his head as he made his way to the desk. Father had always kept everything nice and neat so it was jarring to see the papers scattered everywhere.
He kneeled down and opened a cabinet, he found the plush right next to a walkie-talkie. Michael only grabbed the plush and stood back up. He’d left the door open but something else was nagging at him, something felt out of place. Something was wrong. He looked back at the desk, there was a folder among the mess labeled ‘Funtime.’
Michael knew that’s what Father had been calling the type of animatronics that had killed Elizabeth. He opened the folder and found some blueprints, now Michael didn’t know much about the creation of animatronics but thought it weird that things were labeled as ‘storage tank’ and ‘deter and misdirect’
He closed the folder and held it under his arm. He paused, there had been a journal under the folder. Father was going to be home any minute but Michael reached for it and began flipping through. It had talks of ‘remnent’ in it, but no clues as to what that was. It appeared that father was documenting his experiments. Michael froze as he flipped the page to 1979.
He hugged the plush tighter as he read what was on the page. He didn’t want to believe it, he stared wide-eyed at the page.
Father had killed Charlie. He said it himself right there. It was written right in front of him but Michael didn’t want to believe, he felt his breathing pick up. He flipped the page, this one had the date 1981.
Father seemed conflicted about Elizabeth’s death, but was overall enjoyed that his machine had worked. Michael gripped the pages a little harder then he should. He took a deep breath and flipped the page again. This one was dated 1983. He had to push down the sob wanting to escape from his throat. Father had planned on the bite happening. He’d said how easy Michael would be to mold. Michael didn’t want to know into what.
He ripped those three pages out of the journal and put them into the folder, he quickly left the room, shutting the door. He went into his room and shoved everything into his backpack. Michael sat on his bed, his head in his hands. His breathing became labored, he knew he’d have to grab the journal. His mind began to race as the front door opened. Father had a keen eye, he would know Michael had been in there. He kicked his backpack under his bed and then laid down to pretend to be asleep. He held his breath as father walked past his door. There was a minute where Michael thought he’d be fine, where he thought father wasn’t going to find out but that was shattered when father had slammed his door opened.
“Michael!”
Michael sat straight up, staring with wide eyes. Father crossed his arms, tapping his fingers.
“Were you in my office?”
Michael knew it wasn’t really a question.
“No, why would I go in there?”
It was hard to maintain eye contact with what he knew now. Father walked over to him.
“Because you have a habit of taking things that aren’t yours.”
Michael felt his face pale, he was glad he’d put the ring in his backpack today.
“Did you take the toy?”
“No.”
“Did you take the papers?”
They both stared at each other, Michael feigned a confused look.
“What papers?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Michael. You know exactly what I’m talking about, where are they?”
Michael opened his mouth to speak but father had reached his hand out causing the kid to flinch. Father had put his hand on Michael’s cheek and tilted his head to face him. It would’ve comforting if it was anyone else, Michael desperately wanted to get away.
“You’re a clever boy, just tell me where they are.”
His tone would’ve been described as sweet if he were talking to anyone else, but Michael knew what lay under the surface.
“I-I don’t have it.”
Father pushed his head back.
“Don’t lie to me!”
He grabbed Michael roughly and pulled him off the bed. He held onto Michael’s arm tightly.
“I need to know where they are.”
Michael tried to pry his father’s hand off of him.
“What’s even so important about them!”
Father’s grip tightened much to Michael’s dismay, he whimpered.
“Those blueprints were revolutionary!”
Father let go of Michael, who rubbed his arm. He didn’t know about the journal yet, Michael took a step back.
“I don’t have them.”
He tensed up, trying to predict what father was going to do next. Father shook his head.
“You’re not a good liar, Michael.”
Father grabbed Michael's shirt and threw him against the wall, pinning him there. Father put his arm against his throat, pushing down.
“Father-“
Michael was trying to push his arm away, but it wasn’t working.
“Please-“
He couldn’t breath.
"Please-"
He couldn't breath.
"I-I can't-"
He couldn't breath.
“Dad, please!”
Michael dropped to his knees, gasping for air. He brought his hands up to his throat, hair slightly obscuring his surroundings. Father backed up, eyes wide.
“Michael, I didn’t mean-“
Michael wasted no time, he grabbed his backpack and booked it out of his room and to the front door. It was a struggle to unlock but once he did he was gone. The cold air felt nice but he had something Henry had to see.