Chapter Text
June 22, 1994
Tick tock tick tock. The old grandfather clock rings in the ears of many, a sound determined to break all manner of silence. The chimes and ticks suspended by rusted gears, creaks against withered maple wood that should be accompanied by a warm hearth blazing bright, reflecting ve;vet curtains. At least, that's what Hayley wished it was, rather than the plastic clock that sat in her kitchen, or the broken boiler that once kept the room warm. Henry sat quietly, ever the attentive Uncle, keeping his eye on the young woman's cheek, the scar of old denting her soft, pale skin. He's afraid to speak, not wanting to make her feel worse, but he builds up that courage, "You and Michael found your sister...inside a machine?"
"That's the problem, Hen. I don't even know if she was in there. I saw the empty shell." her voice breaks, letting out a small hint of vulnerability, a feeling she has kept buried for more years than she would ever admit. Hastily, she stand up, legs shaking as though she is caught in a blizzard and is seeking shelter. Henry watches as Hayley carries herself towards the kitchen. He carefully stands up in case she may need some assistant. She appears as though her legs are about to give out beneath her as she takes every slow step. She grips the handle of the refrigerator, twisting and opening it up before she reaches inside to grab a bottle of off-brand beer, "Want one?" she asks Henry, her voice timid and shaking as she turns to face the older man. Henry shakes his head; she shrugs and begins to look for a bottle opener.
Henry sighs, running his hand through his greying beard as he sits back down on her worn couch. His fingers prod and pull at the fraying fabric as Hayley sits back down besides him, taking a large swig from her beer bottle.
"What's happened to ya, kid?" Henry asks sincerely, gazing from her green eyes and down to the bottle in her hand that matches. She snorts, face scrunching up with a hint of disgust, "My father being a dick happened. And the fact that I basically just watched my brother get murdered!"
***
Beyond the fog that seeps through the city lights, passing through dark ally's and deep into the forest below the old Afton home, Michael struggles as he wheezes and writhes in pain, dark crimson spilling down his jaw and neck from catching himself on a wilted tree branch not too far back. "Now we can be complete," the voice of a young girl splits through his dazed mind.
"Elizabeth...no...it's me...Michael!" he tries to back away, fist clenching into the dirt beneath him in a failed attempt to fight back. The twisted mass of wires and eyes continues to move towards him in jagged movements, holding out it's metallic hand in an almost friendly gesture.
"I will put you back together." from the amalgamation, the sweet voice of the long-gone child had drowned in the whirring of the machine's voice box, distorting as it speaks. Michael screams as it lurches forwards, grasping his legs in the tangles and pulling him along the deadwood and detritus. He fails to hook his bloodied fingers into the foliage to anchor himself to a halt, but the Funtimes are determined to take him into their personal hell as Michael's head crashes against a rough boulder that brings darkness to his vision before slipping into unconsciousness.
A slam of pressurised metal doors awaken the young Afton, pulling him from the darkness. He blinks in an attempt to clear his vision, his body is bound against a hard, cold slab of steel. He thrashes his arms against the leather restraints as panic surges through his body, till he hears the voice of his guide. The one he trusted. The one that brought him back to this place.
"Why didn't you trust me?" the AI's effort of sounding upset is overshadowed by it's hollow nature. "Why didn't you believe me?"
"Elizabeth-"
"I thought you liked me. I thought I did everything right."
Michael's mind was frazzling by the second. Why was he so keen to believe that this monster is his dead sister? Why did he allow himself to get caught in another trap laid out by his father...again?
"We need you, so we can leave. We need you, so that we can look like you."
Static rang in his ears as he tried to wake himself up. This has to be a dream. This MUST be a dream; a stupid dream where he will wake up in his own bed, warm as he listens to the echoes of city traffic just beyond the town.
"Isn't this why you came here? To be with her again?"
He slowly lifts up his head to peer at the clown-face beyond the glass, watching as it twitches and jostles with every small movement. His weakness is apparent, even to him as his throat closes up from holding back the tears that threaten to cascade down and stain his cheeks.
"The scooper only hurts for a moment..."
Sirens ring, the light blazing red that flashes through his vision before his breathing stops. The metal rod lurches forwards and crashes into his chest, piercing his skin and hooking under his ribs, following by pulling backwards and ripping his chest open. He tries to scream, but all he can release is silence as blood ascends up his throat, mingling with his choking breath as it pours down his chin. His ribs have been shattered and ripped apart, his body open like flower petals that have finally bloomed when his heart stops beating and his guts spill onto the tiles below. A perfect home for the monster to live inside till it frees itself from it's fleshy vessel.