Archive of Our Own

Eli's Diary

KEEP OUT!!!! LOOKING AT YOU, MIKE!!!!

'September 3rd, 198*

Dearest diary,

I hate my siblings. Honestly, I would've preferred being an only child.

My little brother has been dead since '83, you know this. Ness says that he's in a better place, but she always seems hesitant when saying this.

Mommy used to say that if we prayed hard enough, we could make sure he was the happiest little boy in Heaven. I'm saying 'mommy USED to' not because she's also dead, but because she left yesterday. Daddy was really, really angry. He woke us all up with his yelling when he found that she wasn't sleeping in bed next to him, yesterday morning. All she left was a note to Daddy that Nessa didn't let me read. Of course, being as sneaky as I am, I found my way to read that note. It said "Fuck off, William." 

I don't know why Mommy would leave such a note for Daddy. Daddy is the greatest! But it's okay... I never really liked Mommy much anyway. She smoked like a chimney and always left the house smelling bad. Daddy used to always say it was such a shame that such a pretty woman deliberately ruined her lungs, and she'd tell him the same thing she wrote in that note:

"Fuck off, William."

"Oh, honey-"

"No, Will, I mean it. Keep your cruelties to yourself."

"They aren't cruelties," he grabbed her arm tightly, "so quit being so difficult."

Daddy always says that Mommy was a difficult woman, difficult to please. My baby brother would say it was code for 'difficult to control,' but I just waved it off as him saying stupid things. After all, he was so young and always so tired, so it only made sense that way.

I never liked my big sister Vanessa much either. She always got all of Daddy's attention. He constantly calls her his little princess, even though I'm right here and more little!!!! He also put her in private school, unlike Mike and me. She gets to wear the prettiest, trendiest clothes, while I have to wear Mommy's old clothes from when she was a little girl.

Still, Ness is nice enough. She always sneaks me some toys from Freddy's. I don't blame everyone for loving Vanessa so much... Yeah, the whole TOWN loves her! (Well, at least our neighbourhood) Ugh... makes me kinda jelly, sometimes. Only sometimes, though!

But Michael? That's a whole other story. My big brother Michael is pure evil. 

My brother Mike's the oldest out of us, about a year and a half more than Nessa. He is probably a curse placed upon this family or something. At least, that's what Mommy often used to say. She'd cry about how rotten he is quite often.

"Gosh, Michael, why... why do you have to be so brainwashed? So... bad?" she'd cry. "Christ, you're too much like him..."

Mikey used to be nice. He used to do what Daddy asked of him, helped keep Nessa in line, and was never a jerk. Then the second he turned thirteen, he started hanging around these douches at school, started bullying our brother, and-

Michael is evil, that's that. I hate him. I hate him so, so much. I hate most how he acts as if he did nothing wrong, as if our brother just tripped and fell into Fredbear's mouth, making it seem so casual, like a... like a joke! I mean, what's wrong with him?!!? Seriouly, he needs help! Medical or whatever! 

Ugh, I like to think Mommy left us because of Michael, not because of Daddy (because why would that be the case, right?). Mommy didn't leave because of me and she DEFINITELY didn't leave because of Vanessa (she always praised her), so... Michael must be the answer. 

I feel so alone. You're my only friend, but you're a journal. Just how sad am I...?

Mike and Nessa are older and have more in common. They don't talk as much as they used to, but ever since I can remember, it was always just the two of them. 

This is why I miss Dave. Sometimes I see him in my dreams. He just repeats "It's me." He's also always holding the hand of some other little boy with a red sweater. I always wake up before I can ask any questions. But it's okay, I don't care. As long as he's happy, up there in Heaven or in my dreams. 

Anyway, Nessa is calling me in for dinner... She made lasagna and also baked us cinnamon rolls for dessert!!! Maybe she isn't so bad after all. Maybe I don't want to be an only child after all... I'd like to keep my sister.

I just don't think I want my big brother anymore.

Yours,

Eli A.’

Freddy's, 2000

Vanessa closed the dusty diary. For a good while, she simply stared at the cover, then she sighed and carefully placed it back where she'd found it, wedged between the wall and the old prize counter. 

Eli... Her little sister's handwriting had appeared so much smaller than Vanessa remembered, so much neater. She couldn't stop thinking about the last line, too. 

"I'd like to keep my sister."

Vanessa swallowed. She hadn't really known Elizabeth had felt that way. She'd known Eli could be difficult, loud, jealous, dramatic, but overall, she was merely a little girl trying to understand a family that was falling apart around her. However, she'd never known just how lonely she'd been, to the point that she felt like she only confide in a journal.

The part regarding Michael made Vanessa's stomach twist. Liz had hated him... For her part, Vanessa had remembered their brother differently. At least, she remembered pieces of him differently (memories are a complicated thing, right?). 

She looked around the abandoned pizzeria. Daylight barely made the place feel less dead, and there was barely any light coming in anyway with all the floorboard-covered windows anyway.

William had told her he'd found a new night guard, some broke guy who needed the money bad enough to take a job nobody else wanted, who had issues and couldn't be hired anywhere else. Vanessa immediately understood why her father was telling her this: she was supposed to make sure the restaurant was ready for the new hire. And, more importantly, she was supposed to make sure none of her coworkers at the police station started asking questions about the previous night guard's disappearance. 

Of course she'd agreed to come in and clean up. What else was she supposed to do? Say no to her father? She was his daughter, she had to agree! 

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She hated that sentence and she despised even more how easily it came to her mind, like it'd been programmed into her (had it not?). Nonetheless, she didn't have much time to dwell on that, as-

Two hands suddenly gripped her shoulders.

Vanessa's breath caught. She spun around, immediately pulling her taser from her belt, and pointing it straight ahead. Her eyes darted to the figure above her, spotting something enormous standing over her- a fox, red fur, sharp teeth, black empty-looking eyes... She nearly screamed, knowing how things ended with adults in security attire that encountered Foxy... Then the fox tilted its head, and she stared, realizing- wait, it wasn't Foxy at all, it was just...

"Oh, for God's sake, Michael!"

The figure laughed, and she lowered her taser as he then pulled the Foxy mask off his head, grinning.

"Still works."

"You are getting way too old to be doing that," she scolded him.

Michael continued to laugh, unable to contain his amusement. "I still scared you enough to pull out the taser though, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and I could've tased you!"

"Would've been worth the look on your face either way."

She sighed and put the taser away, back in her gear belt. "What are you doing here, Michael? I thought you already got rid of the body last week."

"Yeah, of course I did. Dad just wanted me to clean up Parts and Service again."

"Why?"

"Make sure there isn't any blood left. Or brains."

Vanessa looked away from her brother instinctively. She didn't enjoy hearing about this part of... this whole 'legacy.' She knew that was why their father never wanted her doing that part of the dirty work, instead placing it in the hands of the Afton son.

"I'll help," she offered, feeling bad.

"No need," he shook his head. "It'll be my pleasure. Just need to find a mop."

Vanessa watched him walk away, not understanding him. How could Michael walk into this place so casually after everything they'd been through? How could he joke? How could he put on a stupid Foxy mask, scare his sister, complain about finding a mop, and act like this was just an ordinary Monday? 

Sigh... Vanessa just wished she could do that, be as blissful about things as he could. She wished she could pretend this was just another family tradition. Nevertheless, she was a police officer; she wore a badge! People trusted her, people told her things, and she'd been helping William this entire time lure desperate men into this building. Men who needed money, who thought they were getting a normal night-shift gig, who didn't know what waited for them after midnight... and then they died here. 

She had helped make sure nobody looked too closely. Every time, she convinced herself she was protecting her family, another missing-person report appeared on her desk. Just another photograph, another name, and another lie she would have to come up with... She wondered if Michael ever thought about that. If he ever wondered whether they were monsters for being aware of their father's wrongdoings and still helping him. Or did Michael simply not care? 

Vanessa looked toward the dark hallway leading to Parts and Service. Michael's footsteps echoed from somewhere inside, as well as the noises of a mop pushing around liquid. She remembered her baby sister's diary: "Michael's evil, that's that." She closed her eyes, sighing, unable to decide whether Elizabeth had been wrong or whether she'd simply spent truly her entire life sucking up to William.

"Nessa! Come here! Susie's awake, she's excited to meet our new friend tonight!" he called out with glee.

Vanessa opened her eyes, somewhat sad she hadn't been teleported to an alternate universe where she wasn't an Afton. Instead, she was still here, in her universe, and she picked up her bag, ready to follow her brother further inside this place. 

When she found him in Parts and Service, she saw that he was crouched beside one of the walls, scrubbing a dark stain of dried blood with a rag. The sharp smell of bleach filled the room, it seemed, as she stopped at the doorway. Even after all these years, seeing the blood still made something inside her recoil. Well, it wasn't even about the blood... As an officer, she saw violence quite often. No, it was more or less about the fact that she knew precisely why that blood had to be splattered in the first place, how she was an accomplice in all of this. 

Meanwhile, Michael just kept scrubbing. He didn't seem bothered at all! Vanessa had to look away, she hated just how normal this had become. None of this was normal! It isn't normal to see your older brother scrubbing blood with bleach off the walls of a childhood spot! William Afton had turned his remaining children into cleaners of his sins, and they were being perfectly obedient...

Michael tossed the rag into a bucket. "Did Father give you any info on the new guard?"

Vanessa nodded. "Apparently his name is Michael Schmidt. Troubled past. Lots of violence."

Michael froze, his hand stopping halfway toward another stain. "... What was his name?"

"Michael Schmidt..." she repeated awkwardly.

"You're kidding."

"No..."

He stared at the wall, ashamed. "But... That's my name."

"What?"

"That's the name I use at the other locations! 'Mike Schmidt!'"

'Oh... of course,' she remembered. Their father had helped them both create identities outside the family. After all, it wouldn't have been easy to get the perfect jobs considering the fact that William's arrest under suspicion of being behind the '85 missing children's case had been all over the papers, being an Afton was then-on synonymous with being a monster. It was why he went by 'Steve Raglan' now, speaking of which! 

When Vanessa entered police training, William had told her to use 'Vanessa Shelly.' He must have given the name 'Michael Schmidt' for her brother to use as a security guard.

"Is that why you're offended?" she asked.

"I'm not offended."

"You look offended," she retorted, rolling her eyes.

"No, I'm just pissed off." He picked up the rag again. "It's sort of weird, is all. Father knows I use that name."

Vanessa's annoyed smile disappeared. She understood now why he was offended, what he meant by that. Perhaps their father was sending him a message: "Stop being sloppy. Don't end up like this Michael Schmidt I'm about to get killed." 

Nonetheless, something about this bothered her... William almost never hired a new guard so quickly after the previous one died... so why suddenly accelerate the killings? The missing children were satisfied, they didn't need to kill again to satisfy their thirst for blood! At least not for another month...

"You know, Michael," she said, folding her arms, "Dad doesn't usually replace them this fast."

"So?"

"So maybe the name thing isn't a coincidence."

Michael glared at her. "You think Father hired this guy because of me?"

"I don't know, but that's not exactly where I was heading with this..."

"Vanessa."

"I'm just saying it could be personal."

He scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Even I'm pissed off that there's another Michael in town, but hey, maybe this town isn't so small now! Coincidences happen, Ness, there's no need to get all conspiracy-theorist on me now."

Vanessa looked at the blood staining the wall, then she added quietly, "Michael... Have you ever wondered if any of the kids Dad killed had older siblings? Kids who knew something, maybe saw their younger siblings get taken?"

"Don't," he warned sternly.

"Dad wasn't exactly subtle with the first ones..."

"Vanessa."

"What if-"

"He made sure there weren't witnesses. So... If we ever get caught, it won't be because of Father. It'll be because you started having second thoughts."

Vanessa looked down, hand holding the rag a little shaky now. She knew what happened when you made Father angry. She'd seen how the man reacted when Michael made the smallest mistakes... she remembered the deep cuts on his shoulders, over his back, all from the beatings and whippings... She remembered the feeling of the first time she'd ever denied her father, then the bruises on her neck that formed after he'd choked her to remind her that he could always just kill her if she ever squealed. She forevermore associated disobedience with pain, with death. And she knew it was the same for her brother.

Michael sighed. "Listen, Vanessa... I really don't want to lose you. You're my only sister."

Yep, that was the nail in the coffin. It hit harder than she expected it would. 

Their younger sister Elizabeth was gone. Has been gone for years. She was dead. And Vanessa knew that Michael carried that guilt with him more than anyone else in the whole world did, regardless of how Eli felt about her older brother. There was no pretending otherwise.

Vanessa sighed and walked over to the bucket. "I'm tired, Mike. That's all." She picked up a wet cloth. "I'm not having second thoughts, don't worry."

Michael watched her for a second, then his face softened, his typical sharp grin now a more gentle smile. "Okay." He briefly pulled her into a one-armed side hug before returning to the stain on the wall. "You're still annoying, though. Really reckless, too."

"Yeah, yeah," she chuckled, rolling her eyes.

They continued cleaning. For a few minutes, the room was quiet in exception of their harmonizing humming of old Freddy's tunes. Then, out of nowhere, Michael suddenly looked toward the security desk. It seemed as though an idea had occurred to him, because he abruptly stood and grabbed the trainee-cassette tape and a marker. 

"What are you doing?" Vanessa inquired, eyebrow raised.

Michael grinned. "I've got a fun, harmless little joke for our new friend." He uncapped the marker.

"What kind of prank?..."

"You'll see. Nothing harmful, you can calm down."

He wrote a single word across the cassette. ' MIKE ' He leaned back and admired his work, placing it near the tv on the security desk; Vanessa shook her head in disapproval.

"You're so immature, Michael."

He laughed. "Oh, come on! It'll set the mood! He's bound to wonder why and how a cassette tape from the '80s has his name on it, right?" 

Vanessa rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop herself from letting out a little giggle. 

The Afton Family Residence, 1991

The house felt strangely hollow when Michael came back. At eighteen, he had been away for nearly two years now. His bedroom had been emptied by a frustrated William, thus remaining untouched in his absence, though Vanessa had occasionally gone inside to dust. Now his duffel bag sat open on the floor, half-filled with clothes he was slowly unpacking and placing into drawers. 

The ward had called it 'psychosis' and emerging 'borderline personality disorder.' Severe paranoia, dependency, substance abuse withdrawal, paranoia, anxiety, and episodes of severe hallucinations surrounding Elizabeth and Circus Baby... Michael had insisted over and over that he could sometimes see Elizabeth, and that sometimes he could even hear Dave, his younger brother (the one we don't talk about...). He insisted that something had happened with Circus Baby, that she was speaking to him! 

William had therefore agreed that his son was ill, forcefully placed him in the psychiatric ward in the city. Vanessa had never been completely convinced, however, that her older brother was crazy. She knew things about her father that Michael didn't. She knew about the experiments, the hallucinogenic gas, the strange equipment that had occasionally appeared around the house, mostly in Dave and Michael's bedrooms... She refused to believe Michael had simply 'gone mad.' 

The medication he'd been given at the ward had only seemed to make him actually 'go mad' however. The doctors had adjusted it repeatedly, insisting that his condition required stronger treatment, that he suffered from a case of either schizophrenia and antisocial personality disorder. Only later was he rediagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and symptoms (yet no true diagnosis) of BPD. Eventually, it seemed he'd developed terrible cycles of exhaustion and depression followed by periods of unnatural energy, of euphoria and mania. William called it proof that the doctors were right, that one should always trust doctors, that science was the way to reason, but Vanessa wondered whether the doctors had simply been treating the wrong problem due to not having the full picture. Of course, she could never tell anyone about the gas leaks... Father would kill her if she did.

She stood in the doorway now, watching her brother. She noticed just how much his appearance had changed. The long brown hair with bleached-blonde ends was gone, replaced by short, dark-brown hair. He wore an oversized lilac sweater and baggy jeans, which was very unlike his past style of sleeveless tops and shorts, so she hoped that this style change wasn't for the reasons her mind conjured up. Most of all, she noticed just how much more tired he appeared. When their father had brought him home, Vanessa had barely recognized him! She had asked William why Michael looked so exhausted.

"That's what happens when you medicate the crazy out of someone," he simply answered.

Vanessa hated that response. After all, Michael wasn't crazy! At least, she didn't think he was. She had no reason to believe he was, outside of... the incident in '83.

"Need help?" she asked him, finally stepping inside his room.

Michael glanced at her, then muttered a, "Sure."

Vanessa sat beside the duffel bag and began folding his clothes. For several minutes, neither of the two Afton siblings spoke. Michael was unresponsive and seemed way too distant, his movements slow and somewhat machine-like (if the machine in question wasn't well-oiled and was slow as hell). 

"So..." she eventually said, "pretty much everything's closed now."

Michael stopped at that. "Everything?..."

"Fazbear. The other locations. Afton Robotics too. Too many complaints and safety hazards, and too many people going missing around town... And with Uncle Henry gone from the public eye for ages now, Dad thought it was finally time to close down."

"Oh... That's a shame..." He stopped folding a shirt, then slowly looked back at her. "Do you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"When we were kids," a small smile appeared on his face, "we used to talk about taking over Fazbear Entertainment someday."

Vanessa smiled. "With Charlotte."

"Yeah."

Michael looked down at the shirt in his hands, grip too tight for the cotton. "Well... I still want that. I want it so, so bad, Nessa. I maen it. When we're older, you and me- we'll take over the whole thing! We'll keep it going! We- we'll revive it!"

"For Charlotte...?" she asked, smile fading slightly.

"For Charlotte! For us! And most of all, for Father!"

"Why Dad?"

He gasped, the most animatic she'd seen him since he'd come back from the hospital, as he was genuinely surprised by the question. "Because he's our father, Vanessa. Outsiders disappoint you; family doesn't. Father was there when I was at my worst," his fingers tightened even more around the shirt, "when I was completely messed up, when anyone with any logic would've put me down... When I didn't even know what was real anymore. And in his own way, he must've loved me even when I was a rebellious brat- why else would he have insisted so much on disciplining me, back then?!" 

Vanessa stayed silent. Her eyes widened as she was struck by his monologue. Why was he talking like this? Why was he speaking so reverently, sounding so devoted when it came to their father? Had he actually gone mad?

"Who else would've stayed?" Michael continued. "Who else knows everything about us and still loves us?"

Vanessa's stomach twisted. 

Loves us... Was that what William called this? Love? 

She thought about all the times their father had frightened them, manipulated them, and demanded obedience from them, when he'd drove their mother away, when he hadn't given two shits when his two youngest kids died... And yet Michael looked almost peaceful saying this. Perhaps that was what was wrong with him- William had convinced him that being tolerated at his lowest moments was the same thing as being loved and cared for. 

The bedroom door opened. 

"Couldn't be prouder."

Vanessa turned, seeing their father standing there. He walked over and placed a hand on Michael's shoulder.

Michael trembled, just a tiny involuntary shake before he forced himself still. Vanessa noticed it and bit her lip, trying not to comment on how Michael was, deep down, still afraid of William, the same way she was.

William smiled. "I always thought you'd be the end of me, Michael." 

Michael gave a nervous laugh, "I'd never-"

"Oh, I know," their father chuckled. "Still, there were moments when I thought I'd have to just chop you up and throw your remains into a river for those starving fishes to eat." He laughed as though he'd made an excellent joke, and Michael chuckled awkwardly. "However, now," he continued, "you finally understand that family," his hand tightened on his son's shoulder, "is what matters."

He tossed a security badge onto Michael's bedside table, and Michael stared at it.

"What's this?"

"Your new job." He smiled. "You'll work daytime security at the original Freddy's. The place still needs maintenance for my little games."

Michael picked up the badge, and his eyes brightened. "Really?!"

"Starting Monday. Put on your jacket, do your job, and no one'll get hurt."

The Afton son nodded eagerly. "Yes, Father."

Vanessa looked between them, eyebrow raised. "Uhm, Dad? Why are you still paying the bills for these places? Uncle Henry removed his name from the leases, it must be expensive now... no?"

William's smile disappeared, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Vanessa."

She went quiet.

"Just focus on your grades, sweetie." He looked over at his son. "And you focus on not disappointing me again."

Michael glanced down at the badge once more. He seemed different now, less tired, almost happy (though manic was more the proper term, no?). Vanessa watched him hold that little piece of plastic as though it meant bigger things, as though he had finally been given a reason to exist... And she knew that, to her brother, it was exactly that. That badge was a purpose, a place in the family, finally a potential place in their father's cold, stone heart... That badge provided meaning. 

She wondered if she'd end up desperate for meaning like that. 

She wondered if she even had any meaning.

'Down empty streets sniffling glue, me and you

Blank open eyes watch the moon flower bloom

It's been a long, hard 20 year summer vacation

Both these 20 years tryna fill the void

Crack baby, you don't know what you want

But you know that you had it once

And you know that you want it back'

Vanessa had hoped that the new night guard would be a bad person. Deep within her soul, she prayed to a distant God that Mike Schmidt was an asshole. Perhaps he was an alcoholic, some manic junkie, or perhaps he was a middle-aged man who abused his kids! Literally anything slightly douchy would've sufficed! Only then would she not feel as much guilt for leading a stranger to their doom. 

But of course, she was Vanessa Afton. Nothing seemed to go the way she wanted things to go, huh? 

No, she had met Mike Schmidt on his second night. It was obvious that Foxy had gotten to him and would've finished him off, yet he hadn't for whatever reason. After inspecting the location following a break-in (and finding Michael moving around a dead body... totally not weird), she found sleeping pills in the security office, so it added up. This Mike guy was cold and sleeping on the job, but when they'd spoken the night before, well... he seemed nice. He was also... good-looking, if she had to be honest.

However, right now, being honest isn't what she needs to do- as Father always says, she needed to keep him in the dark and remain professional! She can do that, right?

Nevertheless, she hated the fact that he wasn't a dickhead. Outside of being clearly antisocial and being sleep-deprived enough to have prescribed meds, there was nothing bad about Mike Schmidt, and she despised that fact.

Vanessa had just parked outside of Mike's house. She sat behind the wheel for a moment, staring at the small, one-story house, then she got out. Mike answered the door after a while, appearing rather exhausted, though he jerked up realizing it was her at the door.

"Hey, Vanessa."

"Hey, Mike." She then spotted a little girl enter the doorway. "And hello...! 

'Wait... does he have a daughter?' she worried. (Wait, why was she worried?)

"Vanessa, this is Abby. Abby, Vanessa," Mike introduced the two girls.

"Hi, Abby," she greeted the little girl. "Mike, you didn't tell me you had a daughter...?"

"Gross!" Abby grimaced.

"No, uh, Abby's my sister."

"Ah! Well, you didn't tell me you had a sister either."

Abby smirked, eyebrow raised, as she boldly asked, "Are you here to arrest Mike?"

'Well, I wasn't expecting this.'

"Okay, well, can you please go play in your room so me and Vanessa can talk?" the night guard asked his younger sister.

The little brunette rolled her eyes, then told the officer, "It's nice to meet you!"

Vanessa gave her a little wave as she saw her retreat further back into the house, assumingly back to her bedroom. 

"So, what's up?" Mike asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Somebody broke into Freddy's."

His eyes widened. "W- What? Why, what happened?" (Gosh, he sounded so stoned)

Annoyed, she pulled out a bottle of prescription meds for insomnia and waved them at him. "Recognize these?"

Seeing them, he rolled his eyes, licking his lips as he was about to say something, unsure how to make himself not sound like a pill junkie, "Look, it's not what you think, okay? Th- Those are sleeping pills. They help me sleep."

"I know what they are, Mike, it's written on the bottle." (Okay, now she wasn't liking how clueless he was acting...) "News flash: if you're too whacked out to lock a fucking door, accident or not, you're liable. It's called criminal negligence."

He scoffed dryly, "You wouldn't understand."

'Oh? Really? Christ, he's unbelievable... To think I was willing to take pity on him!' she thought. Of course, she didn't say that. Instead, she drawled: "Well, then help me. 'Cause the moment I file that report," which she definitely wasn't going to, considering the dead bodies there, "it's out of my hands."

Mike looked behind him for a moment, understanding the severity of the situation (good, he should). He turned back to Vanessa. "You want to take a walk?"

—

As they sat in front of a small water stream, Mike couldn't stop rubbing his hands together, awfully quiet. In a way, it was oddly comforting, as a contrast to her loud life at home. 

"I think I know what happened to Garett."

Vanessa went still.

"My brother." He swallowed. "I think our minds store everything. Dream Theory, they call it. Memories don't just disappear, they're somewhere in there," he points to his head, "even if we can't consciously reach them." He then stared ahead distantly, biting the inside of his cheek as he tries to find his words. "I keep dreaming about that afternoon when my little brother got kidnapped. I see the same thing over and over. I think maybe I saw the person who took him. I just... keep going back into the dream, trying to find something I missed, a clue..."

Vanessa couldn't breathe properly, though she hid it well.

Garett... 

She knew that name. And as Mike clarified that his younger brother had gotten kidnapped in the woods, well, it all added up. Her father's work had begun long before Freddy's became his hunting ground, before he had gotten bold enough and desperate enough following his wife's departure to kill in his own pizzerias... Back then, William had been more meticulous with his 'craft.' He'd traveled outside their little town, taking children where nobody knew him or the kids in question, then would experiment on them.

And Vanessa remembered a little boy named Garett. Because after each disappearance, her dad had sometimes brought home toys. Little things like stuffed animals, action figures, plastic trinkets, or toy airplanes... He'd handed them to Vanessa as though they were ordinary presents, as though they weren't in reality souvenirs from children he'd kidnapped and slaughtered. He'd gift them to her and tell her stories about how easy it was to take them away, but when he'd handed her that toy airplane, he'd told her with a laugh how he'd almost gotten caught because the older brother of the boy had ran after the car, yelling the name 'Garett' before realizing he'd never catch up. 

That older brother... it was Mike. And Mike was about to live a similar fate... Killed by William Afton's creations, in his dungeon, all because he desperately needed that job as a night guard surely to support his younger sister.

Fuck... Vanessa had been too young to understand back then, but now... Now Mike was sitting besides her, speaking about his little brother with the same quiet grief she'd seen in so many families. Yet she knew exactly what had occurred. She knew...

"Yeah. And that's usually the part where people tell me I'm crazy."

Vanessa gave a dry laugh. "I know what crazy looks like, Mike. And this isn't it. Not even close."

Her mind flashed to Michael. His hospital room at the ward, his trembling hands, the guilt they both felt for Elizabeth and Dave... William's voice... 'Family is what matters.' 

Vanessa had failed Michael; she didn't feel like she could call herself a sister to him. She hadn't protected Elizabeth. She hadn't protected her baby brother. She hadn't protected herself. She hadn't protected any of them! Naturally, the guilt rose sharply in her throat. 

In spite of that, she swallowed it. 'Not now,' she told herself. She couldn't fall apart now. Mike needed answers, and she knew exactly what those answers were. She simply couldn't give them to him, ever. So she straightened her back, forced her expression neutral, and prepared herself to do the only thing she'd been trained to do her whole life.

Keep Mike Schmidt in the dark.

Night Five

Mike was still unconscious. Vanessa sat beside him, hands folded tightly in her lap, watching his chest rise and fall. That was good... meant he was still alive, despite the blood loss. She had already cleaned his wounds, so he would be okay. Hopefully... he had to be okay... God, she really hoped so... She looked at him and felt her throat tighten.

This was ridiculous. She barely knew him. Well... she knew him more than she probably should. She knew about his family situation, his insomnia, his traumas, his favourite coffee order (don't ask), how he hated cigarettes, how he worried constantly about Abby, how skeptical he could be, how impolite and stubborn he was often times... She knew he pretended to not care when he cared far too much, that he was profoundly emotional and had just gotten used to numbing it down with time. And somewhere along the way, Vanessa had started caring as well.

Perhaps she had been lonely. Perhaps she had been desperate for someone who wasn't connected to her father. Perhaps she was just stupid! 

She smiled sadly. "You're such a pain, Mike." Her voice trembled, seeing his eyebrow twitch instinctively due to bodily pain. "But I really... like you."

There, she'd said it! Even if he couldn't hear it (to be honest, it was easier that way).

Vanessa wiped quickly underneath her eyes as there was a small tear, embarrassed despite being alone.

She thought about her father, how he would plan on killing him tonight surely, since it was the fifth night. Then she thought about her big brother. 

Why couldn't things be like they were when she was a kid? Back in the days when she was just a little girl who genuinely believed her father would always protect her. How silly...

She had spent years convincing herself that being William's daughter meant she owed him everything. However, Mike didn't owe her anything! And she didn't owe William anything either. How pathetic was it that meeting a guy was what made her realize this... 

She reached for Mike's hand. 'I don't want to be an Afton anymore...' she told herself, her fingers tightening around his. 'I just want to be Vanessa.' For once, the idea didn't frighten her. Instead, it made her smile. She gazed at Mike. 'I'll protect you. Both you and Abby.'

'Went to your room thinking maybe you'll feel something

But all I saw was your burning body waiting

All these 20 years on a vacation

[...] Crack baby, you don't know what you want

But you know that you're needing it.

And you know that you need it bad

With wild horses running through your hollow bones

Wild horses running through your hollow bones'