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If I've Got to Suffer, It May as Well be at Your Hands, Your Pretty Hands by douwata
Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's
28 Feb 2022
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Summary
The God you don't believe in takes more forms than the omnipotent being in the sky you once knew and loved and feared. He is you, when you stand at the edge of your parents bed and ponder the knife in your hands at the ripe age of sixteen. He is you, when you tuck your drunken friend into bed, rolling him on his side so he doesn't choke on his own vomit and climbing in next to him to hold him in your arms.
He is you, when your hands wrap around his daughter's throat and you feel her claw at your wrists with tears in her eyes. “Will,” She weeps, “Uncle Will,” a nickname you never really liked, not out of the mouth of anyone but Henry, and you tighten your grip until she goes limp.