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Bonnie
I could spend the rest of my life writing a book about the restless suffer I was going to get through today and the rest of the days Springtrap decided to come over and that way satisfy, what seemed to be, his wild lust. Despite all he'd done, I found this wasn't something I was gonna be able to seal deep down; Chica hugged me today in breakfast, and I felt like they dropped the whole stereo over me. I could tell Frog was subtly studying the way I moved and shuddered all breakfast long.
Some humans had already gotten in the restaurant. I barely spotted them huddled in the parking lot, but for sure they hadn't checked the dining area yet. Chica and I were in our original positions totally motionless; Foxy had talked with us about the possibilities of these men to go and inspect every bedroom, including ourselves as robots. Fortunately, Frog wasn't part of Freddy Fazbear's crew, so she had locked herself in with Freddy. Not even in my other life I would forgive myself if something happened to him.
"Bonnie," Chica whispered, "Bonnie."
"Chica?" I whispered back.
"Are you ok?"
"What do you mean?" I kept whispering.
"Didn't I hurt today in breakfast?"
"Don't worr—" And then I went quiet when I heard someone walking into the place.
It must have been 8 A. M. due to the fact that humans weren't used to come across this early.
"We'll just need to work from here, to here."
"I'll get the others."
Some men were talking in the entrance of the restaurant. I opened slightly my eye so I could make out what I was hearing: they were two men dressed up with white shirts and black ties. One of them had crotched down to, apparently, pick something up from the floor.
"Mike Schmidt."
"What?"
"This was on the floor."
"What is it?"
"Looks like an identification."
Those men got closer to each other to see what one of them picked up from the floor.
"He's an employee of the restaurant. He works here as a night guard."
"Good for 'im, he won't have to be here picking up this crap."
"Good for him? Who'd dream of spending a whole night here with those freaks?"
I saw one of them pointed at the stage. I quickly closed my eyes again.
"What's up with them?"
"This restaurant's got a longer history than you could imagine, s'just hard to find out the real one." The men kept talking to each other.
Even though their conversation was pretty hearable, somehow I found it quite worthless to obtain clues or more theories about the past of this restaurant.
10:00 P. M.
After several hours standing up and zoning out, there was no way for me to contain my exacerbated necessity to flee to the bathroom. Chica, a few minutes ago, got out from here. She walked toward the kitchen to make dinner; thankfully, she wouldn't stop cooking around here, not even before a half collapsed wall that granted quite a view from outside.
Nothing scared me more than the clock soon chiming at midnight. This reminded me about the noise: how to keep Chica, Foxy or Frog from listen to us while we... do it? Or should I say, while they raped me? I swore to Freddy that I would be willing to go through this, and for sure I kept my will high.
One of the doubts that couldn't stop but gnaw in my mind was Foxy apparently all cleaned up and in good conditions—physically and emotionally. I thought, after that night, Frog and Chica would turn him into a special case to investigate; however, there wasn't any prove that it would have ever happened. There was not even blood or pieces of Mike anywhere. If this would have been up to me, of course I had treated Foxy the way he deserved in that moment too. I wouldn't have let them hurt Mike. Despite all my intentions, there was just nothing else to do about it. God rested his soul.
As I interrogated myself about Foxy and his involuntary (voluntary, perhaps) commitment of murder, I do it about the noise as well: our rooms were not that far from the stage; even when Freddy sang quietly, without the amplifiers, I made out it. I screamed my butt off for help, but for some reason nobody heard my pleas during that night. It made not even a willy of sense.
11:30 P. M.
Chica, since I knew her, had cooked the best pizzas ever, even when it got burned out edges or with smelly, about-to-expire toppings, or for any natural affair; however, this had been the first tasteless pizza in my life, at lease it was for me, and so was my soda. Right now my taste buds decided to take a break. I couldn't help but think about that there were just thirty minutes left for me to start off with the blind show.
Just to be sure everything was under Springtrap's conditions, I asked my friends to get through with their duties so they could go to bed earlier. I made up the huge good it made to us when we got to sleep eight hours straight, otherwise, it could slowly damage our sanity, which, eventually, was going to be shown up in our work, and as such to the restaurant's image.
11:50 P. M.
I decided to spend a few minutes in Freddy's room; I would love to see how he was going. Frog left for a while to Chica's room. I guessed this was included on her treatment. It also involved Foxy since he refused to go back to his cove once he stayed one night with her; if this was ok for Chica, I didn't see why they had to be apart, and besides, Foxy's cove was really creepy and cold, just like the way this pizzeria was starting to look for me. I never knew how hard it was to pull a smile, a real one.
Freddy was on his bed with his eyes shut, just like the day before yesterday I found him here. I gingerly made my way next to his bed; however, I stepped on a syringe wrapper, which was nearby his nightstand. Freddy slowly opened his eyes again. My heart started to beat joyfully, even though it was already beating fast because of this midnight. This time, Freddy focused his sight on me. I couldn't describe the happiness of this moment. I was awake to see this moment: Freddy looked at me once again! I bended over just a little without unlocking my sight from his. I was on the lookout for a reaction. Freddy did follow along my gaze, and due to the silence of the room I realized he was trying to move his paw. I looked at it and, indeed, his fingers were sort of twitching. My tears wanted to start flowing from my eyes, but I decided not to start a weeping right now. I took with my paw his, clenching it gingerly: his soft paw and somewhat bigger than mine. Freddy then started to close his fingers, still grabbing my paw. I stared at his paw, and I looked back at him, who was still staring at me.
"Freddy," I said while sobbing.
I took his paw between my two paws, raising it upward a little more, still staring at Freddy and his beautiful and blue eyes.
My vision turned back blurred while putting messages on it—'It's me'—in a sudden, the same ones like the day I met Golden Freddy. When I looked at Freddy's clock, I saw it was already 12 A. M. The time for the meeting had come along.
With my palms pressing tightly my temples, I hobbled out of Freddy's room, who kept with his eyes opened; his sight didn't follow mine on my way out. I quickly staggered to the stage; I wanted this pain to finish at once, though for sure this wasn't worse than what I was about to go through. I reached the stage and headed toward the deepest spot, which was found behind the curtains. There was nothing, it was as dark as the last time I was here with Springtrap. After some seconds, the headache faded away, and, inevitably, I spotted Springtrap laying his back on the other side of this place with his arms crossed.
"You're late, slut," he said.
"I'm sorry," I said looking down.
"No problem, actually it's a good moment."
Then Springtrap started striding slowly toward me, closer and closer. When he was standing right in front of me, with his knee he hit my belly. I hardly held back myself from shouting, even though I was already hurt because of the way he kicked me yesterday. This pain was fucking suffocating!
"Now that you're on your knees, you can start." He looked down at me.
Springtrap's gate popped opened. I knew what it meant. He thrusted himself on my face so I could touch his length. It's for you, Freddy! It's for you!
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