Chapter 2

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You sigh.

"You know, I always wanted to be an animator." You pause, waiting for a response, but none is given. You don't know what you expected. You don't even know why you're talking to a freaking robot since it won't respond or even hear what you're saying anyways, but you always had the habit of rambling out loud when you were nervous. "I just always found it so cool that drawing several pictures with slight differences then flashing them quickly after one another can make it look like the drawings are moving. I love animations." You take a breath. "Since I love to draw too and I do it a lot, I thought I could entertain others with my hobby.

"I was working on an animation before I came here tonight, but I guess I won't be able to finish it now..." You trail off sadly, but then feel bad for implying blame on the animatronic for wanting to kill you. "But-but it's not your fault. I-I-I know this is just your job, and you're just mistaking me for an endoskeleton or something. I'm not blaming you." You stutter. The animatronic doesn't react in the slightest. Maybe talking about him will get him to answer? Because you know the number one rule of socializing; everyone's favorite topic is themselves.

"So do you like your job?" You ask. The animatronic subtly flinches, but immediately carries on as it did before, ignoring you. You sigh again. "I would imagine that it wouldn't be fun. Having to deal with all those annoying, screaming kids all the time would suck, and singing the same songs over and over. Do you get anything out of it?" You ask curiously. He ignores you, as usual. "How would they pay you? You guys don't need money." You start to feel sad for the animatronics, having to entertain all day and get nothing in return but fear or mistreatment from the night guards. The animatronics really are treated horribly. "Wow, your job must suck. I'm-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It must be exhausting, working all day and being paid by mistreatment from the night guards. I'm so sorry." You say. The animatronic slows its pace, but other than that it doesn't react.

The fact that Bonnie is giving me reactions, though they may be small and hardly noticeable, means that he can hear me, you conclude. So maybe you can try to convince him not to kill you? But do not make it obvious. "You know, if I wasn't so lame as to get killed on the first night, I could have brought you guys something as like a little bit of payment or entertainment for yourselves. Like some board games or card games, or something. They seem boring, but they can be fun! And I could have also brought you guys snacks! Like chips, or cupcakes! Wouldn't that be fun?" You say excitedly, then remember your death and the fact that that will never happen. "Ha-ha, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm going to be dead in a few minutes, so I wouldn't be able to do that. But that's fine."

You lean your head back and see the door to the Parts and Service room ahead, so you decide to do one last thing to make him change his mind; get personal.

"You know, for a while I was depressed, and I really didn't want to live anymore. I guess now I'm finally getting that wish." You say with a small laugh. He opens the door to the Parts and Service room, and tears start to swarm your eyes. You don't want to die. You really don't. But you failed to change his mind, and now it's inevitable.

The tears roll down your cheeks and you sniff. His grip on your wrist tightens to a point where it starts to hurt. "I'm-I'm sorry. I just... I just really don't want to die. I still want to grow up, a-and fall in love, go to college, make friends, and get married, and—" you choke up. "I'm sorry." You squeak as you use your free hand to wipe the tears off your face.

He walks up to a table in the room and forcefully sets you on it. Why wouldn't he just take you to the suit to be stuffed into? Why is he sitting you down here? He let's go of your wrist and you take it back into your other hand, gently rubbing it to ease the pain. You then stare into Bonnie's eyes, looking for an answer as to why he didn't stuff you into the suit already, and he stares into your eyes too. Confused, scared, and embarrassed, you turn your head to the side and look at the floor instead.

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