Chapter Text
Millie opened her eyes. Seconds stretched into eternity and jumbled to flash memories at once. She pushed herself up and stumbled into the wall, or had she fallen to the floor? She could feel everything: her fingertips grazing the ceiling, her cheek squishing into the carved floorboards, and the rest of the clutter poking into her thickened skin. It swarmed and constricted her in a cold embrace. It all felt familiar.
It felt like the entrapment of death.
Then she saw it, tangled in metallic wires and blood. A head with a dull, lifeless grin. It was the head of her killer, ripped from its mechanical body… She tried to grab onto the events that transpired as they rushed to a burning sensation in her neck, then her brain.
The blade had sliced through the chamber. It missed. The bear cackled something as it tried yanking the blade out of its stomach, but her focus was on the glow peeking through the crevice.
She fumbled with the bracelet, slipping it into the crack. When it fit, just like she hoped, she wormed it up and down to break the seal. The bear’s blade slowly jerked out of its stomach. One chance. She only had one chance with so little time. Yet, as the bear’s guillotine slid out to reveal a new thin line of light, the door popped open. And she wasted no time pulling herself out.
She hit the floor. She got out. Her tears slowly morphed into joy as they fell on the wood and her bare knuckles.
She saw the warmth of the singular light’s orange glow– Then metal slammed into her back, taking the air out of her lungs. Then- it sliced through. She could barely grasp onto the will to scream before her neck was torn apart. Her head flailed at the thought. No. No. That couldn’t have been it.
If she was dead, she wouldn’t be able to see, she wouldn’t be able to think, she wouldn’t be able to feel. And all she could do was feel.
The pain reminded her of something after the blade had fallen. She remembered her hands gripping the animatronic. Her fingers broke the casing of its cheeks, and, before she knew it, she’d twisted its head off. She’d destroyed it. Killed it. But her rage remained the same. She struggled to stand and wrap her thoughts around it until another memory resurfaced. Its words.
“You have been rude and quick to anger. You have rushed to the judgment of others. You have been insufficiently grateful to those who have shown you nothing but love and kindness.” The voice was w̷r̶o̶n̸g̷.
Looking through the swarm of her life, all she’d ever been given was judgement. She tried to fight it, but the mockery clouded any good. Dylan hated her for fighting the fire with fire. And Brooke. Blonde. Basic. Bellowing laughter behind her back before ignoring her like the rest of them. They had to be the reason for this. This pain. This torture. Her arm twisted, making her face the workshop’s only exit. Her family… Her grandpa… She never wanted to see them again.
It wasn’t fair. She’d make them pay.
As the thought simmered into her cracked skull, she phased into a void. A darkness. She'd lurked wherever dim and harsh shadows stayed, watching, waiting for her chance to get rid of what festered inside. To break free of the feeling of cold, unending agony.