(Unedited, NOT Proofread, 5492 words)
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death/murder/violence/suicide, fear, description of an anxiety attack (by someone who has anxiety attacks)
Abby and I make our way to the hall, past the bathrooms Mike and I hid in yesterday, past the parts and services room that makes my skin crawl was we approach it, into the next hallway, and to the party room marked with a large number 2 on the left side of the hall. Abby's hand stays firmly in mine, and we both squeeze our fingers down as if we're scared the dark might swallow us whole if we're not almost digging our nails into each other. Every step brings us closer to the cracked door, to the private room inside, to Jeremy.
I push the door open as we get to it and let Abby step in first with me close behind. She looks around while I return the door to the cracked position before deciding to fully shut it, which I do and then immediately check to make sure I can still open it again. I can, and the locking mechanism is basic and comforting. I choose not to lock it for the time being, just in case.
I really don't want it to get stuck.
Jeremy's spirit is present— I can feel it in the air on my skin and the breaths I take—, but he's very clearly hiding. I pretend not to notice and set the amethyst on the table, laying my flashlight down on one edge of the table to give us some constant, unmoving light. Abby sets her flashlight down as well and kicks some trash and light rubble to the side, making a place for her to stand comfortably.
We tend to the room for a moment, and the longer we work, the closer Jeremy's spirit gets. Until, after about a minute, he appears fully in between the two long tables.
The room is a rectangle with black and white checkered floors. There are two tables with old, tattered tablecloths hanging from them. A single party hat sits on either table; one is in a rather pristine condition and the other is rotting and covered in mold and dust. An old poster with the words "Let's Party" hangs lifelessly from one single nail in the ceiling to our left. The material is deeply discolored and the thing itself holds hundreds of tiny spider webs in place. The spiders in question climb along it, silent and quick.
When Jeremy appears, the energy of the room shifts. I feel him fully before I even catch a glimpse of him, but once he's in the room, I can't keep myself from staring.
I can see him clearer here. His energy is less obstructed, as it has less to compete with than it did in the hotel. His spirit fits here. His memories can exist here. He can exist here, and he's almost solid because of it.
He has a long-sleeved blue shirt with two off-white stripes around his torso and similarly colored sleeve cuffs, neckline, and hem. He also has jeans and shoes of an indiscernible color. Around his head, he has white paper rabbit ears.
"You made it," he says, his tone giving away no emotion.
"We did," I reply, and his gentle eyes turn to look at me.
"Where is the Puppet?" he asks.
"In the party room," Abby replies, quickly clarifying, "the main room. Where we came in. I didn't let him follow us."
"Him?" Jeremy chimes, turning to look at her.
"The Puppet is a boy!" she exclaims, defending her point while glancing over to me. Once again, I am amazed and have no grounds to argue with her. Or, in this case, to prove her correct.
The Puppet is a boy, Charlotte is a girl, and energy itself feels neutral. That's why I refer to the Puppet as 'it'. An energy.
"Is there more of you?" Jeremy questions out of nowhere, and we both nod. "Where are they?"
"Outside," I respond. "You told Abby and I to come. We didn't want to risk bringing them into the building if they didn't need to be here." The room falls quiet as the boy looks past the two of us and out the window set in the wall. An eerie softness fills the air. Music begins to play somewhere nearby, old and soft and scratchy like an antique radio. None of the words are coherent, just the melody.
Back when Mike and I were in the other building, I told him I couldn't sense when memories would begin, I just knew I was in one when I began watching it. That isn't entirely true, because I can feel them moving around like ripples beneath the surface of a pool. However, there is truth in the fact that I don't know when one will consume my senses, or if it will only mess with then, like the music I'm hearing now.
When a waft of pizza-scented air filters in through my lungs, I realize I might not have long before the building comes back to life before my eyes.
"Jeremy, why did you call us here?" I ask, breaking the silence.
No sense in wasting anymore time.
"What were you doing here yesterday?" he asks, looking up at me.
"We were looking for you. The five spirits from the other building. The building where we spoke," I explain, my voice quiet as the music fluctuates louder and softer and spits static for a moment. I try to focus on Jeremy in front of me, but it sounds so close.
"The one I made you leave," he clarifies, words slow and clear. I nod, unable to produce a verbal response.
How ironic.
"It's not safe for you here," he whispers, "either of you." I feel him shut down then. His energy retracts from the room and pulls back into him. He nearly disappears from my spiritual radar, though his solid form doesn't waver or blur once.
I need to keep him here.
We can't lose him.
"Obviously," I reply, laughing a bit to lighten the mood, "there's killer animatronics everywhere." He glares at me, and I hold my hands up innocently. "I was just validating your statement."
"The Puppet is trying to stuff you in a suit," Jeremy admits, looking into my eyes with a slight expression of concern.
Oh. Great.
As if my other assumptions weren't worse enough.
"Why?" I question, anticipating a clear answer. The kid in front of us tries to speak, but then he stops and lowers his gaze.
He's shutting down again.
"Jeremy, why did you ask us to come here?" I press, needing to keep his mind and his spirit here. If either leaves the room, it's over. Abby and I will be on our own. And we can't have that.
"You won't like it," he mumbles, shaking his head.
"I haven't liked a lot of what I've learned since I got here yesterday," I assure him, once again trying to lighten the dark energy in the room, "just tell me what it is. It might help—" The music cuts out and my voice goes with it. I turn, looking out of the glass window in the wall. The dark hallway hasn't changed at all, but the energy is different.
Something's missing.
"Please, Jeremy," Abby chimes. I watch her step closer to him in the reflection of the window, and then I turn around. "The sooner we figure this out, the sooner you can go home." I anticipate her words to convince him— even if it's just slightly and I have to push through the rest of the way— but he snaps back unexpectedly at the offer.
"The old pizzeria isn't my home," he spits, glaring at the two of us as if our mention of the old building was somehow offensive to him. "It never was. It never will be."
"Then maybe we can get you to your actual home," I attempt, glancing over at Abby before I turn my attention to Jeremy and walk in between the tables. He looks at me, his face giving away nothing. "We can get you out of here. All your friends, too. If you help us." I crouch down, trying to carry the same determination Abby has. The same confidence Mike had in the other building.
There's a lot I could learn from those two.
"We really want to help, Jeremy," I say, balancing my elbows on my knees. I'm short than he is while in this position, but the slight angle I have on him allows me to see the twitch in his lower lip; the telltale sign that he wants to accept my offer.
After a moment of letting our eyes rest while locked together, I gently ask, "Why is the Puppet trying to stuff me in a suit? Let's start there, then we'll work up to how to fix this."
"She..." he pauses and shakes his hands at his side, a somewhat effective way to rid himself of his own nerves. "Charlie sees you and your friends from yesterday as children."
"Children?" I ask, wondering if my assumption was right.
"Dead children," he clarifies.
My first assumption.
But I thought the Puppet couldn't see ages at all? I thought I confirmed that?
"Why?" I press, trying not to set the question up too much. I need whatever answers he gives me, not just the answers I want to hear.
Lucky for us, his answer is both.
"You already felt why. The Puppet is split. The animatronic and Charlie are two different... things," he says vaguely. His gaze flicks across the ground as if he can't meet our eyes. I can't tell if it's because he's scared to or if that's just a quirk of his. He's tall enough that he could easily look at the both of us, but he's definitely choosing to look down. That I can feel.
"Charlotte Emily?" Abby asks, joining me and standing on my left. Her voice is softer, more curious. Her eyes reflect this tone, a soft sparkle dancing along her irises. She stands closer to me, her hand almost brushing my shoulder. The bracelets on her wrist are dull as they sit in my shadow, but my belief in them is anything but.
"Yeah," Jeremy replies, looking over at her. Slowly, as we sit in silence, I turn my gaze up to the boy in front of us. I let the quiet settle, but before it gets too comfortable, I break it again.
"Can you tell me any more about the split, or this place?" I inquire, shifting so I can sit down. The floor is cold and dirty and uncomfortable, but the movement instantly causes Jeremy's nerves to dissipate a little more. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I'm doing the right thing. Even if it makes me an easier target for anything that walks in unexpectedly.
Abby sits next to me, and I scoot back to put myself between her and the door. Jeremy follows our lead, sitting down with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap. Something in the way his posture instantly gets worse and how he subconsciously reaches up to fix the rabbit ears reminds me he's a kid.
Sometimes I forget that spirits are children. Especially in this case, because Jeremy's energy feels the age it actually is, which means that, to me, he feels as old as Mike. Even though I can see him clearly, my mind works on energies rather than visuals. Thus, my brain registers Jeremy as a twenty-five(ish)-year-old. Maybe even twenty-six.
"I... I don't know much," he admits, looking at the ground between us. His voice shakes slightly, but he clears his throat and I have a strong feeling it won't happen again. He doesn't want to seem weak.
This is the kid that fought Afton, after all. Weakness probably isn't his thing.
"That's okay," I assure him, "anything you know might help us." He opens his mouth once again, but like before, only silence falls out. He panics.
"Jeremy," Abby says gently, drawing the eyes of the spirit to her, "start with why you came here. Just tell us the full story."
"The Puppet brought me here," he admits, and I nod. His eyes search my face for just a moment, just long enough to assure himself I'm not going to cut in, and then the whole story falls out.
"When Cass locked Afton away, there was a moment where we all felt... free. Susie mentioned it out loud. She said something like 'was that it?' or 'is it over?'... something like that. Then we all felt like... this weird tug feeling. We tried to ignore it, but it drove us insane so fast... Not long after Afton got spring locked, we destroyed ourselves. The animatronics tore each other apart. We were in a back room, I think. You saw it, right?" he asks, looking up to me.
"Yeah," I reply, nodding a bit. I don't want to interrupt him too much, so I keep my response word-count to a minimum.
"We were out, for a moment, but then we were here. The Puppet was the first thing I saw, but I wasn't with my friends anymore. There were nowhere to be found. I tried to ask what had happened, but the Puppet wouldn't talk. It would try, but something would stop it," he explains. After a breath and a soft nod, he continues, "It was the first night I was here. I was trying to find a way into the parts and services room— because I felt like I needed to be in there—, when I heard the access door open. I went to go check it out, and I found Bonnie, the toy one, leading a kid inside. She was... five? Six? Bonnie led her around, showing her everything."
Abby shifts uncomfortably and I offer her my hand. She bypasses the hand-squeezing and goes straight for a hug, scooting closer to me and keeping her arms around me. When she shivers, I realize why.
"The Toys only work from midnight to six in the morning, like our animatronics at the old building," he explains, "so when it turned to six, Bonnie went back to his stage and shut down. The kid was left alone. That's when the Puppet woke up."
Abby shivers again and I carefully nudge her aside, using the new space to take my hoodie off. She graciously accepts it as I pass the warm clothing over, and her small body slips into it the first moment she can. Even though the building is cold, there is an odd warmth that comes with the use of my ability. I won't freeze. Not yet, at least.
"What did the Puppet do?" I ask, gently grabbing the hood and lifting it up to help Abby slip her head through the head hole.
"The Puppet did nothing, but Charlie was angry. Really angry. I don't know why." His voice catches in his throat as he tries to continue. Once again, he clears it and carries on. "Charlie's not in the right state of mind. The Puppet has facial scans that can tell adult from child, but Charlie sees further than that. She sees spirits, not children. That's what she saw in you, Josie."
"She saw the seven-year-old," I whisper, and he nods. "And Mike? Jonah?"
"Same for them," he replies, shrugging a bit. "Charlie overrides the Puppet at night. She lets Mangle kill. She encourages it..." Anger begins to bloom in his chest, spreading quickly. "She opens Kids Cove and lets Mangle kill whatever they want."
The energy shifts. The room darkens. Jeremy's face blurs for a moment and his body fades just slightly.
"Jeremy," I warn, and the boy looks up at me, "it's okay. We'll figure it out. Keep telling us what you know, please."
"My friends are trapped," he snaps, anger biting in his tone, "they're trapped here. The Puppet can't do anything and Charlie's killing every kid who walks in. Bonnie's luring them in and leading them right to their deaths and there's nothing I can do."
"Jeremy—"
The flashlights cut out and Abby grabs onto me. When they come back on, Jeremy is almost completely faded, his knees to his chest and his head resting on them. I say nothing, my arms around Abby as she presses into my chest and watches Jeremy. Her heart beats quick, matching pace with mine.
"I can hear them, Josie," he admits, his voice quiet now. "My friends, the others here, the Mangle. I can hear them."
My own memories scream in between the echoes of his voice.
I see him every night, Mom.
I can't help you, kid. You'll just have to close your eyes.
I can't leave this place. Not without freeing the spirits trapped here. Jeremy, the rest of the five, Charlie, the spirits in the Mangle, Sam. I can't leave them all here.
I won't.
Jeremy's been stuck here since February. Ten months he's been locked in these walls watching children die and hearing the voices of the dead scream for help. For ten months, he's been apart from his friends, the kids he spent years with in the in-between. For ten months, his only time out of this building has been in the place of his death a hotel where he had to fight to be heard.
I'm not leaving this building until he can walk out with me.
Until they all can.
"Where are your friends?" I ask, rather sharply.
"Parts and service," he replies, lifting his right hand weakly and pointing to the corner the banner is in. Pointing to parts and service through the walls. "And I can't get in, and I don't know why."
"Is it locked?" I question, a new determination burning in my chest. He must notice the shift in my tone, because he looks up with surprise in his eyes.
"I would... assume so," he responds, quickly trying to gather himself back up. "But there's a key."
"Where?" The look in his eyes tells me the answer isn't one I want to hear. Still, I press. "Where is the key?"
"Kid's Cove," he whispers, and I inhale sharply.
"We can't go in there," Abby says, shaking her head. "I had a nightmare about the thing in there."
"Mangle?" I ask, and she nods into me, curling her legs up into the hoodie. I turn to Jeremy, silently asking how we're supposed to make this work. As he opens his mouth to reply, another question spills from my lips. "Why were you separated from the other spirits?"
He shuts his mouth too quick to not have an answer.
"I don't know," he lies.
We both know he's lying, and we both know the other know.
"Jeremy," I say gently, trying not to snap at the kid who's a hair away from breaking down in front of me, "there's a reason you're here and they're in there. There's a reason you were able to come back to the old pizzeria. There's a reason you can leave."
"I can't," he argues, quickly adding, as fast as he can speak, "not all at once."
"What does that mean?" I press, not skipping a beat or allowing him any time to think.
"Toy Bonnie," he breathes as if the words hurt him physically to say. "I'm..."
The room falls silent. Nobody knows what to say next, but the situation becomes clear when Jeremy looks up at me.
One half of him is a little clearer than the other.
"How?" I ask, bypassing the admission to get to the source.
"I don't know," he admits, shaking his head, "but it has to have something to do with how I died." Abby flinches and the two of us go silent for several long seconds.
"Abs?" I ask, rubbing her arm. "Are you okay to listen to this?"
"I've seen your death," she says, pointing her words to Jeremy. "I've seen you fight him..." The spirit nods, a sensation of pain rising in his chest and thus mine as well. Pain blooms from a memory that hurts. Since I don't have a death memory to be sad about, my brain flips to the next best thing.
"I think part of me died when I realized I'd have to fight to get out of it," he admits, and I bite my tongue, looking down at the ground with a sickening sensation in my stomach. Guilt, sadness, all of the bad emotions mixed into a medley of horrible feelings.
"You were... eleven?" I offer, quietly.
"Twelve," he responds, and the pain strikes again.
No kid that age should have to fight an adult for their life.
"I'm sorry," I say, and the apology goes unanswered.
"I think... what happened to you... happened to me," Jeremy admits, and I look up at him. He's still curled, but his head is up and his eyes are angled down. "I wasn't... me when I fought back. Not... not by the end of it."
"I understand," I say gently, remembering the first night I watched the residual energies in my old house. How I woke up and that was the first thing I thought about. How that was the first thing I thought about every morning I lived in that house, and even after.
I wasn't the same person either.
I never have been.
"So... you think half of you is... controlling Toy Bonnie?" I ask, and he nods.
"When we got here—" he speaks slowly and at a very soft volume— "I split. I didn't realize it at first, because... the part of me that fought was the part haunted the old building. I only came back when Afton's control was cut by Abby's drawing."
"I knew you felt different," Abby whispers, pride and hope lace into her voice. I glance down at her, then back to Jeremy.
"When I was brought here, I split again," he explains, stopping himself before he continues further. I don't press him this time, because I don't want him to feel like he has to overshare the more personal parts of this 'split'.
I never would've anticipated what he says next.
"I think it's because of Afton," he admits, and the flashlights flicker around us. We look up, eyes scanning the room.
"Our time must be running out," I whisper, turning to look behind me. I sense nothing in the halls, not even memories, which confirms my assumption.
The Puppet's coming.
"Why do you think it's because of Afton?" I ask, turning back to Jeremy.
"When I got here, I felt the way I did under his control. I think—" A loud crash sounds from the hallway. I grab onto Abby as she wraps her arms around me. We all stare at the window for a second before Jeremy quickly says, "I think Charlie's still stuck under his control. I think her goal is to continue feeding spirits into Mangle."
"What do we do?" I ask, begging for answers.
"The five of us— we can show her. But we need to get them out of parts and service," he replies, his voice panicking.
"And the key is in Kid's Cove?" I press.
"Yes, guarded by Mangle," he responds. Another crash rings out, this one closer. "One more thing!"
"What?" I ask, turning to him.
"When Puppet told you that you were 'waking them up' last night, I think it might have meant your spirit was triggering the Toys to wake up manually. If it did and you wake them up before midnight, Toy Bonnie is going to try to lead Abby away from you even if she's outside—" Another crash, and the door handle begins to shake— "He takes kids, not adults, and he can somehow control the other Toy animatronics. Somewhere in the pizzeria— I think in the office— there's two animatronics named Balloon Boy and JJ. Find them, they trick the Toys because they look like kids. They aren't aggressive and they will help you, but they'll demand something in return," he explains, his voice going as fast as it can. "I can leave the pizzeria for a few minutes at a time after sunset, so if you need me then, I'll be there. Until then, we need that key and we need to get the others out of parts and service."
"How will we free your other half?" I ask, fear tripping my voice up.
For the first time, Jeremy sounds more confident than Abby did speaking to the Puppet, "I'll handle that once I can attach myself to an animatronic. I think there's an old Bonnie in parts and service. Get me in there."
"On it," I say, trying to mimic his confidence. He looks at me for a long second, then he nods and a soft smile appears on the edges of his mouth. He steps back and disappears into the spirit world, and I snatch the amethyst off the table.
"I locked the door," Abby admits, and I turn to the handle. Sure enough, it's locked.
"Good job," I whisper, grabbing her hand and jogging over to it after we gather our flashlights. "Let it know we're leaving." She nods confidently and I unlock the door, opening it slowly.
"How was your visit?" The Puppet asks.
"Wonderful, thank you," Abby replies, her voice firm and oddly confident. "We're leaving now. Nothing can touch us as we go."
"Of course," the Puppet says gently, stepping back away from the door. I hold tight onto Abby's hand and step out into the hallway.
Immediately, I feel a sensation I've never experienced before. Abby gasps and grabs onto my shirt, pulling herself as close to me as she can get. I hold my breath and hand her the amethyst, shifting my flashlight to my left hand. Very carefully, with my eyes frozen on the figure at the end of the hall, I reach down and pick Abby up.
I'm not the strongest person alive, but the adrenaline boosts me enough to negate any struggle I have with lifting her.
"Nothing can hurt us," Abby begins to mumble, wrapping her free arm around my neck and her legs around my waist, taking some of the weight out of my arm. She whispers the same four words over and over again as I inch closer to the figure, knowing I'll have to pass it to get out.
They work together. They work together. The Puppet controls it, and Abby controls the Puppet right now.
"Is that..." Abby whispers as we get closer.
"The Mangle, yeah," I whisper back.
The thing is a... well... it's a mangled mess. There are wires and bars and tubes and hands and feet and eyes and two heads: one with a faceplate and one without. It's silver and reflective but also white and pink in some places. The resemblance to Foxy is uncanny but not overpowering. I know this thing is different. I know this thing is broken.
"It's okay," I assure Abby. "I'll just..."
As we grow close enough to see the fine details on the animatronic's body, I feel my heart beating way too fast in my chest. My mouth is dry, and my hands are clammy, and even with the light of the flashlight, I can tell my pupils are dilated to about their maximum. My body is in protection mode. My entire being has now dedicated itself to getting Abby past this thing and out the access door.
I slide past it and watch in horror as both of the heads turn to follow us. Abby hides her face in the crook of my neck, and I feel little tears rolling down onto my shoulders.
She's so fucking scared.
So am I.
She's had spirit friends; she's been basically kidnapped; she's been through so much, but she's never had to experience this kind of closeness with a hostile being.
Not to mention her nightmares about Mangle.
"It's okay," I whisper, looking back to where the Puppet is down the hall.
Behind it, I see a little face peeking out from behind the right corner.
It disappears as Mangle begins to turn to us.
The moment the animatronic's eyes land on mine, the voices of so many children begin screaming in my ears.
Help us.
Free us.
You did this.
You killed me.
That thing—
Help!
Please!
You did—
Please!
No!
No!
So many voices drown out my thoughts and leave me practically gasping for air.
I back into a wall and squeeze onto Abby, watching in horror as Mangle drags itself in a semi-circle so that it can face us fully. The head with the faceplate tilts and the ears bounce.
I try to run, to escape, to put distance between me and the thing containing more spirits inside of it than all the spirits I've ever talked to combined. My heart is racing and lungs are spasming, but I cannot force my legs to move.
I physically cannot run.
My emotions are blitzed: I'm experiencing so much in this moment. The fear from Abby, the determination I have, the curiosity of the Mangle, the pure rage from Charlie, the pleased condition of the Puppet, and even Jeremy holding his metaphorical breath somewhere nearby watching this all unfold with anxiety clawing in his chest. Not to mention the emotions and voices and memories and traumas of every single spirit inside of the animatronic ten feet ahead of me.
I can't move.
"Abby," I whisper, my voice out of breath as I try to explain the situation to her, "Abby, I have to set you down and you have to go."
"No!" she exclaims, much louder than I expected. "No! No! Please! Please, Josie! Please, I'm scared! Please!" Her silent tears evolve into audible cries, but my body has placed itself and I cannot force my knees to bend or my lungs to inhale enough to support a run.
I can't do anything.
I can't save her.
"Abby, listen," I say, my voice shaking as my legs start to shiver. "You have to go, Abs. Go straight to the door."
"Josie, please!" she cries, but there's nothing else I can do. More and more panic rises in my chest, icy cold fear strangling my throat. My chest tightens, my vision blurs, my hands shake, and I feel so, so nauseous. Thoughts race through my mind, all my own horrible mental pictures of what could happen to her if she doesn't go. All the memories of the children who have died by this animatronics hand. Every possible death, every possible bite or claw, I imagine them all as Abby and I cannot function anymore.
"Abby, I need—" I can't get the words out, so I try another approach. "You have your bracelets, you—" A cry escapes my lips, and my knees buckle before I can stop either from happening.
Fuck.
Shit.
Oh no.
"Abby—" I plead, unable to force out any more words. I'm crying now too, and when Abby looks up at me with fear in her eyes as I start to slump back into the wall, I know she sees something she shouldn't have to. My mind is blanking, my body is faltering. Her protection is failing, and it's about to pass out. "Abs..."
So many deaths. So much blood. So much...
So much...
So...
So fucking much...
Mangle... here... there... the five... the rest... my dad...
So much death.
So many.
Death.
So—
"Mike," Abby whispers breathlessly, her voice getting further and further from me as I feel like I'm falling further from her. I try to keep her in my hands, trying to keep her away from Mangle, but she squirms and kicks and fights her way out.
As soon as her weight isn't grounding me, I slump to the floor and grab at my chest, needing to breath, needing air. My lungs are locked like I've been running for hours. My eyes are full of tears and blurred memories.
I don't even know if I'm in the pizzeria anymore.
I can hear Abby yelling somewhere nearby, and in my panic, I reach for her.
Nothing.
Air.
Emptiness.
I lost her.
I lost her.
I lost.
They all lost. We all lost. Everything is lost.
It's over.
I'm sorry.
I'm so fucking sorry.
Hands— hands that cannot be Abby's— grab me. I don't know what they're doing.
Then I'm off the ground. Moving. I don't know where I'm going.
Sunlight beams into my face for a moment, but then it's gone. I don't know where I am.
I can't see. I can't hear.
All I feel are the children dying. The spirits and their deaths. My father in a doorframe. My mother in her room. All dead. All dying. All silent and so, so fucking loud.
Somewhere in the muddled mess of horrors flashing between my ears, I feel something like water wrapping around my head and filling my lungs, the cool kiss of water welcoming me to the bottom of a river I never knew existed.
All is calm.
All is quiet.
And I lost.
(A/N: She's not dead, don't worry.)
Please leave a like if you enjoyed and again, feel free to correct my spelling/grammar in the comments :)