𝘔𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮 | 𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

10. A Simple Afternoon

You throw your phone to the wall harshly, the sound of cracks filling the room. You know that your phone is completely unusable now, but it doesn't really matter. You mumble a quick, apologetic, "I'm sorry," before kneeling down and trying to clean up the glass. Your shaky hands make it so that you  accidentally squeeze the pieces, making you feel even more in despair.

Freddy and Michael stare at the mess you've made. Pieces of glass scatter the floor. Your hand is covered in tiny cuts from the phone. Your head hurts from all the crying you've been doing for the past week. You hold your hand on your head and stand up, your body slightly wobbling. I'm dizzy..

Before anything else happens, Freddy stands up quickly, holding you up. "How did you know I was dizzy?" You ask, confusion washing over you. "I can read minds." He smirks. Huh..? You look down at your hand. Blood drips from the tiny cuts. "Do you have a first aid kit nearby?" You ask, looking around. Freddy shrugs.

You turn around and nearly bump into Carrie. "Oh-! Sorry," you apologize glumly. Carrie smiles. "It's fine. Now, I've brought you some band-aids." She hands you a small box that's labeled, Band-aids. You smile a little too widely. "Thank you, Carrie." You give her a side hug and sit on the arm of the couch, opening the box. Wow, it's packed with band-aids. You grab one and peel it. You gently place the peel on your lap, sticking the band-aid on your hand. Freddy, Michael and Carrie watch you put band-aids on your cuts.

Once you finish, you thank Carrie. "It's no problem," she tells you. You go to hand the band-aids back to her, but she pushes it away. "You keep it. You'll probably need it for the future." You laugh a bit at what Carrie said.

Carrie goes and grabs a small dustpan and broom from the corner of the room. She cleans up the glass and phone. As she tosses it away, you thank her again and apologize. "It's alright!" Carrie smiles.

She slowly leaves the room, entering the room that leads to the stairs that go to the upstairs and basement. You stare for a second, then ask, "What's downstairs and upstairs?" You turn to look at Freddy and Michael, waiting for a response. Freddy finally caves. "Nothing, kid. Stop being so nosy." You furrow your brows. "I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen. And I'm not even that nosy." Freddy's eyes widen at what you said. "You don't look your age," he says, wide-eyed. "Oh. I never noticed," you say in a quiet voice.

The room stays quiet for a bit until Freddy breaks the silence. "So, what do you want to do? Pick something that doesn't include reading. I don't want to have to deal with a crying kid- girl." You laugh a bit. "You do care~~ And here I thought you were just some random grump with butter knives for fingers," you jokingly say. Freddy goes up close in your face. "These AREN'T butter knives!" he shows you his finger knives up close, nearly slicing your face. You tilt your head. "They look like butter knives to me."

"UGH!" he sighs, falling onto the couch.

"You asked me if I remembered you when you introduced yourself." You start. "What did you mean by that?" He breathes out. "You don't remember me then. Well.."

Flashback to when you were 14...:

3rd Person POV:
Y/n was on the ground, covered in barely visible bruises. Nothing major. Just dealing with some rude middle school bullies. You slowly sit up, wincing at the big bruise on your arm. "They're always so mean.." You sigh and stand up. You brush off your legs. You decide to just head home. You decided it would be best to just speak to your parents about the situation.

Once you get home, you realise that no one's home yet. Not your mom, nor your dad. You shrug it off and go to the cabinet to clean your cuts.

When you finish that, you go to your bedroom to sleep. You have had one exhausting day.