freddy fazbear's pizza · william afton · michael afton · elizabeth afton · horror · family drama · animatronics · secret murderer · toxic family · fnaf
The house on Hurricane Street felt like a tomb. Dust motes drifted through the dim afternoon light that filtered through drawn curtains, settling on the furniture that Mrs. Afton no longer dusted. The air was heavy with the scent of old coffee and something metallic—regret, maybe. A few days since Evan's birthday, and the joy had been replaced by a suffocating silence, broken only by the creak of floorboards under William's pacing. He moved from room to room, muttering about circuits and remnant, his eyes hollow and sharp. Michael sat on the back porch, staring at the charred remains of a foxy mask, his jaw tight. Elizabeth hovered in the hallway, clutching a toy she'd outgrown, unsure how to fill the void where her brother used to be. And then the front door clicked open—Mrs. Afton,…