Another Five Nights

Old Friend

The moments following my visit to the police station passed by in a blur. I went back home, grabbed all the blueprints I could carry, and made my way to the only place I could think of where Uncle Henry could possibly be: his house.

I stood at his doorstep, blueprints tucked under my arm, and hesitantly rang the doorbell.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting. Maybe it was the Uncle Henry I knew and loved; the one who greeted guests with the warmest smile you would ever see, the one who ruffled my hair, called me "Mikey-Wikey" and gave me candy every time he met me, the one who loved his job more than himself, and his only daughter more than his job. Basically, a warm, kind, compassionate, passionate, optimistic family-man who loves the work he does and everything and everyone related to it, which included my father.

The man who opened the door didn't resemble that at all. Not with the heavy frown-lines between his eyebrows, or the passive-aggressive glint in his eyes that I never saw before. I'll admit, expecting him to be in high spirits after years of prison was unrealistic, but the drastic change was a little startling.

What was even more startling was the things that hadn't changed. His hair was still the same brownish-blonde with no more grey hairs than there were the last time I saw him. He was still clean-shaven and while he seemed quite depressed, he'd been that way since '83. And no, it had nothing to do with my brother.

"Can I help you?" He asked, rather gruffly.

"Um... Uncle Henry, it-- it's me, Mike."

He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Which 'Mike'?"

"Uh... your business partner William's son."

"You expect me to believe that? Especially when you, apparently, don't have the guts to show your own face."

I raised my hand to my mask self-consciously as I thought of what to respond to that.

"Um... what if I told you something only I would know... would you believe me then?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

I took a moment to collect my memories with Uncle Henry. Ones that only we or people very close to us would know.

"W-well there were those times... when Sammy was alive... you'd play 'pirates' with him and I. We forced you to be the loch ness monster."

I noticed recognition his eyes, but his glare remained harsh and unconvinced.

"Also-- also there was the time when you... you were learning to play the trombone, and I would ask you to play some nursery rhymes and such... that sounded God awful."

Hints of a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, but he pursed his lips and still stared at me disbelievingly, crossing his arms over his chest. I couldn't blame him. After years of solitude, it felt strange to be faced by someone from my past, a figment of my memories materialized in front of me. It must be even stranger for him, considering that he couldn't even see my face, and I've grown at least five inches since the last time he saw me, and my voice was a lot deeper. I wouldn't believe myself if I were him.

But I still had to convince him somehow. He knows more about the pizzeria and its animatronics than I do, and he could help me with my venture. And even if he didn't... well, I suppose I would just like him to know that I'm still here. I guess... I guess I'm just tired of being alone and in the shadows, surrounded by strangers. I would like to have a familiar face back in my life.

I played the last card I could think of.
"The... the night of Charlie's murder... I snuck out of my room... you were at my house. I told you I saw Marionette hugging Charlotte's corpse, but you didn't believe me, because when you arrived at the crime scene, Marionette wasn't there."
I knew I was hitting delicate ground, but it was something that only Uncle Henry knew. I never told anyone else about seeing Marionette. It was never released in the papers. No one else saw Marionette anywhere around the crime scene. It was my last resort.

Uncle Henry stared at me wide-eyed for a moment. He seemed to have trouble convincing himself to remain unconvinced. He smoothed back his hair, head pointed down, probably collecting his thoughts. Then, he looked up at me, the ghost of a warm smile spreading across his face.

"It's nice to see you again, Mikey-Wikey."

I smiled, though I knew he couldn't see it. He believes me.

"Nice to see you too, Uncle."