Work Text:
I should have stayed curious. Dear God, I should have let someone else do the job… I knew that something horrible would happen. It wasn’t obvious, but I had a gut feeling the place was off. I just couldn’t stop until I found answers, and I didn’t think twice about it, and- and- It was right there the entire time…!
Working at my last job- Freddy Fazbear’s sister location, that my dad owned- was already a nightmare, but this horror is one-of-a-kind.
Even though this was wrong, even after I was aware, I dragged myself around, smiled, waved politely at others- gave everyone no reason to suspect something was off. I kept everyone happy after the realization that I was feeling sick more often than not.
The first piece of evidence was a change in food habits. I wanted to eat, but it only hurt. Further down the line, my organs slowly quit accepting food. They rejected whatever I gave a chance to settle in my stomach. If someone offered food, I would eat it only to quietly throw it up later. It was all I could do. Otherwise, it sat in my stomach doing nothing until then. Until it ended up being a consistent thing, I never thought much about it.
I thought it was just stress and anxiety from my job (and maybe a bit not knowing how I got home after working at the sister location)... …that’s probably something my dad would tell me.
But stress doesn’t make your saliva taste like iron. Anxiety doesn’t make your stomach hurt this bad.
I thought I was ok. I really did. I thought I made it out unscathed, in one piece. Even though I technically did, it still took a piece of me later. I would have preferred it to happen then and there to get it over with…
It started out slowly in the beginning. I’d wake up a bit stiff, maybe struggle to get comfortable in bed. Sometimes it’d be more annoying things like my limbs itching so badly at random times or my head occasionally snapping to the side without reason that I shrugged off as shivers. Life was pretty good then; when it was all “for no reason”.
Until I continued to collect problems without purpose.
My heart raced after delivering papers to a different room. Each step sent pain through my muscles despite it only being three rooms down the hall. My stomach felt heavy despite eating only occasionally. I caught myself rocking in my seat and feeling like something was moving in the base of my throat. The world seemed to spin for hours on end and I could never stop sweating.
And, I noticed everything felt dense. And the weight continued to… spread…? It felt more like… displacement, I think. It started in the middle of my body and traveled elsewhere.
I felt clunky anytime I did something, but I was still functional. Until one day I blacked out and woke up on the floor of my apartment.
“What just happened…?” I remember saying.
I still appeared at work after that, though people started to look at me funny after a while. I was dead on my feet, and they treated me like that, questioning if there was something wrong with me or even asking if they should call a doctor. At that point, I just wanted them to leave me alone. I wanted to put in my hours, call it a day, then go home. Did they think I had time or money for a doctor? The idea of sitting in a doctor’s office became more appealing as the days went by.
But then one day I felt a wave of nausea I couldn’t deal with. It hit me like a damn bus, so I just threw up in a cup during my lunch break with others. It really wasn’t much considering I was running on caffeine at the moment…but, I- I wasn’t expecting there to be metal. My coworkers were confused, and I tried to hide how badly it had shaken me when I left. I went home early, by myself, as fast as I could.
I got home safely, but the pain was so vivid. One glance in the mirror and I knew something was so very wrong. So, so, so, wrong. I had noticed how gaunt I was becoming before that, but there was something uncanny that time.
I stare at myself closely now. My breathing strains, though there’s something off about it. There’s something different about every part of me. Like, how my breaths don’t sync with my lungs.
Once my eyes catch it, I stagger back until my back presses against the cold wall of the restroom, grabbing at my shirt covering my chest to steady myself. My fingers press onto my sternum. Something twitches.
It’s not me. It’s not me at all.
I don’t scream. I barely breathe. Only watch my reflection, as if the slightest movement would scare it away. Something gently rolls beneath the surface of my abdomen. It curls in my body, abandoning its cover.
“No… No…”
At that instant I realize there is something very, very wrong.
Wide-eyed, I reach out toward the door knob, but there’s a muscle-deep resistance, causing a tingling sensation like I was just shocked. It’s a struggle to grip it and even more so to twist.
Once I finally exited the room, my hands scrambled to grab the phone as I ignored the rising shakiness spreading down my legs. Right before I stretched out to grasp it, my line of sight narrowed. There was no sensation, only a sense of weightlessness before I saw the world shifting in front of me.
I heard a thud and felt the pressure of my body hitting the floor, but there was no pain, just instant dizziness.
My vision went blank for a moment, and I woke up with my face on the ground. I knew that there was no way to make it out of this terror without help. So, I crawled on the ground toward the phone with my muffled breathing filling my ears.
“Where… what-”
I had a vague sense of where I was going. I knew I needed to get to the phone, and that the phone was on the end table, but... I felt a gurgling in my stomach. It was distracting. I built up the energy to grab the phone, and instantly dialed someone close to me; my dad would know what to do. But, my hands shook, turning what was a simple task into a struggle.
Once the tone began to sound, I prayed that he would pick up. He doesn’t usually, but this time he did. It felt like a victory.
“Hello?”
My gut twisted the instant I heard his voice.
“Dad… there’s something wrong…”
“What is it?”
He mumbled, sounding distracted like he was working on something; that’s him though. Always tinkering and fiddling and experimenting with things…
“I-I’m not sure, but… I’m not feeling good… I haven’t been feeling good since I took that job at that one location you own… remember that place…?”
Of course he does, how could he ever forget about his work?
“Yeah, I remember. And?”
He muttered, lost in his creation.
“Your machines… I think they might have something to do with it. I don’t remember what happened, I just know I’m very off…”
There was a pause, curses barely heard under his breath.
“Alright. I’ll check it out.”
Relief washed through me, easing my pain a bit.
“Thanks Dad…”
“Not you, the animatronics. I need to make sure there’s nothing wrong there. That could end poorly for both of us.”
Shock hit me and my stomach soured once more.
“What? No, I’m serious, I’ve been throwing up-”
“Yeah, you’ve always been dramatic, kid. Must be nerves. Call your doctor or something.”
His keys jingled in the background before he dismissed him.
“Get some medicine. You won’t die.”
Click. Silence.
I stand there with a face full of hurt. The plastic of the phone creaks under my grip and I feel the world turning.
What is there to say? I’m alone. I expected help, not instant dismissal.
I tried to dial others, but they didn’t pick up, leaving one option left for me. Driving was not one of them. My hands shook too much and I wasn’t completely present. Not enough to drive safely.
So, with a huff of indignation, I opened the door and started walking.
Hospital… I need to get to the hospital.
People must have known I was feeling queasy. With the way they were looking at me, it must have been written all over my face. I just greeted them with a smile and a nod despite the pain gnawing at my stomach, my body.
Just… Keep it down…
I continued to drag my feet along the sidewalk while swaying. Until it hit me.
I collapsed onto my side, the concrete scraping my elbows. There was a scratch at the base of my throat, causing a coughing fit. My body juddered with the force of my coughs, saliva coating my mouth. It was disgustingly guttural.
I wasn’t completely aware of my surroundings, too worried about my body aching and sputtering. I just knew that I needed to vomit, even if I didn’t want to.
Once I started retching, the rest felt automatic, but forced. It took a few tries, but eventually something started to emerge. My throat trembled and tears pricked at my eyes when wires began to slide out of my mouth. Thick, mucus covered tendrils of metal slipped onto the sidewalk in front of me and I couldn’t fight letting out a pained yelp. There were gasps and exclamations from people in the area, and a child crying… I could care less.
As I continued to heave, eyes snaked from my throat in spouts, staring right back at me. It seemed just as eager to escape, wiggling away and out of me. It crawled from my body, and I wondered how long it would take to completely leave. The texture was horrendous. There was only metal, plastic, and blood.
Eventually it all came out in a giant heap of wires and servos, escaping down a storm drain.
I gasped, regaining my breath and coughing. Then I laid my head down and cried.
As I look up, people around cower as if I were the slithering monster. There’s no escaping their gaze and for some reason their eyes are more horrifying than whatever just crawled out of me.
There was no vindication, just embarrassment. I accept it. I’m tired…