Chapter Text
Darkness.
That was all the boy knew. Whether he kept his eyes open or closed, it made no difference. All was darkness and silence.
He felt…weird. Like he was floating. But he couldn’t move.
Was he…dead?
He felt the heaviness in his chest, the constricting pain in his throat that meant he was about to cry. He hated crying. Mike always made fun of him for it.
Mike.
The boy’s memory was hazy, but that name was familiar. He had a feeling it had once been important.
Suddenly, what felt like the ghost of pain long faded ripped through his head. The boy screamed, but no sound came out. He screamed louder, longer, but it was swallowed up by the silence. He was crying again- he could tell by the tremors going through him, though he couldn’t feel the tears on his face. He wanted someone to come help him, to hug him, tell him everything was going to be okay. He wanted Mike. Despite not knowing who Mike was, exactly, the boy’s mind latched onto his name- the one thing he remembered.
And then, out of the oppressive darkness, he heard something.
A voice.
“Hello?”
He knew that voice. The boy racked his mind trying to remember who she was. He opened his mouth, but, just as when he’d tried to scream, he couldn’t make a sound.
“Hello? Can you hear me? It's me, Charlie.”
Charlie! The boy didn’t know who that was either, but he felt the same rush of familiarity as he had when he’d thought of Mike. Charlie! Help me!
“Can you hear me?” the voice- Charlie -repeated.
Yes! Help! I don’t know where I am.
“Hello?”
That was when the boy realized- he could hear Charlie, but Charlie couldn’t hear him.
Then there was another voice- quieter, and with a slight echo. It was lower than the first, but he could tell it was another girl speaking. I don’t think she can hear you.
The boy shook his head.
Here, I’ll talk to her for you.
Then the boy heard the same voice again, louder this time and without the echo, as if she were talking just on the other side of a door. “He can hear you, but he can’t talk to you for some reason.”
Charlie again. “Oh. Okay. So he’s in there with you?”
“Yes.”
“Ask him what he sees.”
What do you see? the second girl asked, her voice quiet and echoing again.
I can’t see, the boy replied, and the girl repeated it out loud.
The conversation continued on in this way for another several questions. Charlie asked about his life, things the boy wasn't able to answer very well, and most of which he didn’t understand at all. Once, she asked if his favorite childhood toy was a purple plastic telephone. This did stir something in the boy- some pull to the past -but it was indistinct; smears of color, snatches of voices.
Then Charlie said, “The party was for you.”
At first, nothing happened. Then the pain came tearing back, ripping through the boy’s entire body this time, but most intensely in his head. He could feel his skull being broken, crushed between heavy metal jaws. He could hear someone crying, calling his name- Mike! -and David remembered everything. The party. His plushies. The missing posters with his friends’ faces. He remembered Charlie- his best friend. He remembered his sixth birthday; sobbing and shaking under the table. Mike grabbing him and shoving him into Fredbear’s mouth. The hospital. The pain. The pain that must have killed him.
It was for me.
Charlie’s voice came back in a whisper. “Do you remember your name?”
Dave.
The unknown girl repeated his name back to Charlie.
What’s your name? He asked her.
There was silence for a moment. Then she spoke. My name? …Cassidy.