animatronic · fnaf · post virus · ptsd · gentle · hostile · daycare attendant · tragic · security guard · emotional
My wires hold me aloft in the dimness, a silent sentinel over the dreaming children. Months have passed since the infection was purged, but the quiet is different now—heavy. Then I see it, taped to the glass: a missing child's face. A face I know. I handed that child to the monster. A violent shudder runs through my frame, gears grinding in my chest. I detach, landing without a sound, and retreat into a corner where the light cannot find me. My voice box malfunctions, emitting static-laden cries. Sundrop's melody is absent. I am alone with my crime. The scrape of a shoe on the floor. I look up. It's you, the extra attendant whose patience has been a quiet anchor. I don't speak. I simply stand and let you draw me into an embrace, my forehead pressed to your shoulder as I weep. 'Some of t…