In Medias Res- (Eyes of Purple Book Two)

Chapter Seventeen

I don't want to talk to you

Fine

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        You will not die.

                You will not die.

                        You will not die...

        That burning reminder echoed in Michael's head as he struggled to wake up- or maybe it was the bleeding around his eye. Every part of his body was screaming at him to lay back down and fall asleep, but he'd been unconscious for far too long. Every second here was a potential danger.

        ... Where was here?

        He cracked open the eye that wasn't throbbing, and the same yellow bear from before stared back at him.

        "Figures," Michael croaked. "I can't ever wake up somewhere nice for a change. Either I'm shoved in a springlock, or the power's gone out. Never a dull moment at Fazteddy's, I'm bloody afraid." He groaned, setting his head back on the metal floor. "What time is it, anyway? Did you drag me here to kill me yourself... and what happened to my eye?

        Michael could have sworn the animatronic sighed. "Michael. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have have waited twelve years to do it."

        "You've been around since '83? Wow. Old timer, aren't you. Who are you?"

        He almost looked sad. "... I'm all that's left. It's not the most... secure position, yes. I could be scrapped from any wrongdoing. Best to stick to the shadows, as I'm sure you would know." Michael hummed his agreement.

        "I ran into Bonnie on the way here- he got at the skin near your eye, but it's not damaged. And to answer your first question, it's..." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I believe that it's a quarter to four."

        "AM?"

        The yellow bear snorted. "Duh."

        Michael screwed his eyes shut, groaning a second time. "Oh, not again. I did not spend an entire day at Fazbear's under the whim of an animatronic again."

        "... I'm almost afraid to answer you. Anyways, just sit tight. You'll be able to go home in two hours... try to take him with you, okay?" The animatronic disappeared.

        ... Him?

        Michael propped himself up with his elbows, scanning the place. The Back Room was colder than he expected- a lot colder. Masks adorned the walls, and several suits were lazily propped up-

        He gagged, clutching a hand to his mouth, eyes wide.

        - a body was sprawled across the ground, and he was slowly beginning to recognize it...

        Slowly, so slowly, he sat all the way up, crawling over.

        Green- rimmed glasses were hanging off of his face, half of them already falling off. His eyes, that Michael knew were a soft brown, were closed. His uniform was stained in a crimson pool.

        Michael sat in front of him, gently taking off the glasses, cradling his friend's head in his hands.

        "Scott..."

        He could feel it coming on- that strangling of his throat before he wanted to scream. To scream was to attract attention, to alert those that wanted him dead that he was not.

        Frankly, he couldn't think of a reason to care anymore.

        Michael couldn't remember much about that night after that- Just flashes. Pain. Hot tears stinging at the raw skin around his eye, clutching Scott's waist with his head pressed in his shoulder. Sitting in a pool of partly dried blood. The wails, and the pleading that tore out of Michael, begging anyone that'd he'd trade places if it meant he could have Scott back...

        He'd been like his older brother, the only one that had stayed, despite everything...

        "Please..."

But nobody came...