Chapter Text
Hurricane, Utah, 1989
Your birthday. The day you’d been waiting for since your last, finally arrived. You’ve invited your entire class and selected family to celebrate with you at your favourite place, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. The bright coloured animatronics played on the stage, as their mechanical eyes looked down at you. They’re playing just for you, you thought. They made you feel special, unlike everyone else at the party.
As your classmates and their guardians arrived at your party, they greeted you, passed a gift to your parents, and moved along. They gathered around the table displayed with balloons and various other Freddy’s merchandise, a party set for you, yet their eyes never glanced your way. They were too involved with their other friends to notice the birthday girl.
Behind you, your parents began to sing you happy birthday as they carried your cake over your shoulder, the one your grandma had made. It was vanilla with chocolate icing, your favourite. Placing the cake in front of you, you counted the lit candles, ending up with ten, matching your age. You struggled to hear your parents sing over the sound of your classmates talking to each other, but as they finished, you blew out the candles. “Who wants cake?” Your mother announced, and suddenly all eyes were on you as they cheered. But if you’re being honest; their eyes were on the cake.
The cake was cut into equal pieces for all the guests, but someone was missing, prompting you to save the last slice available; your slice. Your best friend said he’d be here, no matter what. Though as time passed, you were slowly losing hope.
Mike had been your best friend since kindergarten. When the class excluded him for being too quiet, too hard to crack, you tried harder. Your actions paid off, as you gained the most genuine friend you could’ve asked for. It surprised you that he didn’t show up for your party. Usually, he’s the first by your side, so his apparent absence kept you from enjoying your party, along with the lack of people noticing you on your birthday. Despite the warmth of the building, you felt cold. Forgotten.
As others ran around the tables with friends, you watched the animatronics perform. Bonnie had always been your favourite of group. His bright blue was just more pleasing on the eyes, and his guitar was awesome; he’s a “certified rocker” is what your parents told you. So, your eyes followed as Bonnie subtly pointed over to a door you’ve never gone through. Through the windows of the swinging doors, you spot two pairs of glowing purple eyes. Another animatronic? As the animatronic noticed you looking, it raised its thick, plush hand, urging you towards it with a beckoning finger. Following its instructions, you swing your legs out from under the table, standing up to make your way over there. You look around the dining room for your parents, seeing them busy talking to other parents. You’ll be back before they even notice you’re missing, you thought.
Hesitantly, you made your way to the doors. As you got closer, you started to see the animatronics behind the glowing eyes. It looks like another rabbit animatronic, but it was much less inviting than the blue bunny you’ve grown familiar to. The yellow fur on it looked aged, damp even. The wide smile stayed plastered on its face as it opened the door slightly for you, just enough to slip through. You glanced back at the dining room as the entrance opened, revealing your awaited guest; Mike came strolling in, his mother by his side.
Your excitement for your birthday once again ignited; you turn around, planning to head back. But the yellow rabbit grabbed your arm tightly, quickly dragging you through the door. You screamed, attempting to run away and catch the parents' attention, but to no use. As you struggled to free yourself, the yellow rabbit raised its hand, bringing it down upon your skull with a large crack. As you went limp, he slung your body over his shoulder, his heavy footsteps ringing out as he carried you to the back room.
Once you gained consciousness, you slowly opened your eyes. The dim light of a room you’d never seen before glaring into your eyes insulted your headache. Your head was pounding in a way you’d never felt before, and you wonder why, before remembering; the yellow rabbit took you. You slowly sat up, looking around for any signs of danger, before spotting him. He stood at the sink, humming a tune you’d heard before, but couldn’t place. Only the body of the suit remained on him; the head was off, placed on the counter behind him. The danger you’re in becomes quickly apparent as he turns around, his freshly cleaned knife still dripping water. Your hand covers your mouth to conceal a gasp. You recognized the man in the suit as Mr. Afton, Mike’s dad, and the owner of Freddy’s. You have to escape and alert the people; you cannot die here.
As Mr. Afton turned back around to dry his weapon of choice, you located the exit and ran for it. Putting aside your burning headache, you ran as fast as your legs could carry you. You heard his crushing, slow footsteps behind you, but you didn’t glance back. You focused on the exit, which was about thirty feet away now. You were going to make it.
Behind you, a struggled grunt rung out from Mr. Afton’s throat, before you felt a searing pain on your upper arm, a whine escaping you. You clutched it, wincing as you do. You pulled your hand away, feeling a viscous fluid move through your fingers. Blood. A loud clink was heard echoing through the barren hallway. You could only assume he threw his knife, cutting you in the process. Thankfully, he missed everything vital, allowing you to continue down the hallway. The slice on your arm didn’t hinder your escape process, the adrenaline carrying you forward. You burst through the swinging door of the back hallway, stinging tears filling your eyes. He can’t follow you out into the open; you made it out.
You screamed for your parents, rushing towards them as soon as your eyes located them. They looked down to you, their eyes wide, as soon as they saw the blood dripping down your arm. Other parents stared, shielding their child’s eyes. Your dad ripped off his jacket, tying it to your wound tightly. Your parents prodded at you, asking what happened, but you couldn’t make any words out. Between what felt like millions of eyes on you, your parents’ questions, and locking eyes with your best friend and seeing the son of a killer, you were overwhelmed. Mike sprinted forward, concern heavy in his eyes. Your father hurried to transfer your gifts and belongings into the car, and your mom helped clean up just feet away from you, not daring to leave you unsupervised. As he too questioned you, you took deep breaths, trying to speak to him.
Just as your mom took your hand to lead you outside, with a shaky tone you said your last words to him: “Your father’s a monster.”
With that, you were off to the hospital. After you told your parents about your recollection of the events, boxes were packed, house was put up for sale, and you left the state. Anything to get away from that murderer.