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Night three in this hell and they still thought he was William
Honestly he had tried everything short of a fucking DNA test. Talking, yelling, bringing up things only he and Evan should know. The damn ghosts just kept trying to kill him. He didn’t look that much like the bastard, right?
He slammed another door in S̶u̶s̶i̶e̶’s Chica’s face. Honestly he was close to leaving. ‘No, Michael. You need to help all the ghosts. None of them deserve this.’
“Seriously! I’m not William! I didn’t kill you!”
"̵̗̋Â̸̩r̴̖̣̠̈̊ȅ̴̲͕͝ ̵̣̦́y̶̻̻̬̍̇͗o̵̡̫͘ͅu̵̥͕͂́́ͅ ̸̟̎́s̴͍͚̼̄͑ủ̶͚͓̭̕r̶̠̠̿͜͝é̶͓̼͂ ̶̟̒͆a̶̡̼͎̋̆b̵̰̩̋ỏ̸̻̪͛u̴̬̓͝t̵̮̓ ̴̰̬̋t̶̪̓̋͒ḩ̴̥̇͐͝a̴̰̽̀͝t̵̘̝͚̋͛̏?̷̰̀"̴̦̳̣͛́
Michael froze at his desk. None of them had talked before. If that even was talking. Although the voice was somewhat familiar, in an uncanny way.
“Yes! I am not a kil-”
"̷̮̺̱̬͇̬̦̭̪̼̍͂I̸̋̌͆̀͂̏̄͐̑͋ͅt̶̡͚̘̗̠̗͖̿̓̓͌͐̅̑͘'̴̡͔͇̪͇̤͕͉̍̆̃̍͌̓̄̾̓͠s̵̛̛͈̩͕̩̣̟̪̖̈̔̎͂͝ ̷͔̭̞͛͝m̵̰̐ḙ̸̡̢̣̺̺̱͐,̸̠͍͉͇̥͎̖͙̣̆͋̓ͅ ̷̼͍̻̦̜̠͉͍͕̬̆̿͂́̎͛̕͝t̵̢̢͈͓̟͚̤̹̘͒̑͋̑̀̈͘ḧ̸̛̹͙̙̖́̏͘͠͝o̶͂̾͑̆̔̕ͅu̴̢̮̝̻̓̾̓͌̈́̓̓̕g̵͙͈͖͎̯̥̦̋̋͘ͅh̸̳̳̻̜̏̊̈̐̾͜͠͠"̴͍̭̦̮̯̭͍̄́͜
The vent plate began rattling. His pen cup flew off the table, crashing into the wall. Someone was pounding at the door again.
“I just want this nightmare to be over. For this whole thing to be dead permanently.” Tears were forming in his eyes. Michael had a feeling he knew who was doing this. He got Foxy out of the vent just as something flickered at the other end of the office.
It was Fredbear.
There were still bloodstains on its jaws.
They fell open and the screaming began.
"̷̪̻̫̘̆I̶̢͎̟͐̌t̶͇̬̲̐̏̎'̸̡͍̆s̸̢͉͚̜̋ ̴̙͓͇̾m̷̦̖͉̫͊̀̿̚ë̴̼̥́́͌̇!̶͍̱̇ ̸̻̎̐̃͛I̵̢̛̋͆́ṱ̶̔̋'̶̼̬̯̄́̈́̀ͅs̵͕̮̝̎̈́̊ͅ ̸̛̪̆̎́m̴̢͍̈́̽ȇ̸͇̀̃͝!̴̛̤̫͑̀̒ ̶̩͚̰̺̓̈́̚̚I̶̪̠͔̭͌̃t̶̡̛̠̝'̶̺̙̞̒͋̓̋s̴̪̱̮̜̈ ̷̺͕̦̓̄̔m̸͓̆͆ĕ̵̡̛̥͇̜͒̚!̵̺̬̓̓̏̿"̷̨̧̪̀
̶̊͝͝
̴͚͘"̵̪̫̠̾̈́́̀D̶̖̎͝ȍ̶̳̱̟̓͒̀ņ̷̟͙͔͋̚'̸̜̟̼͚̄t̴̺̣͈̑̄͛͠ ̴͔̠͇̝͑̌͐̈t̴̙͓͑͘͝ĕ̴̱ḻ̸̳̽̉l̴̺͙̬͚̚͝ ̶͚͒̕͜͝m̵̢̲̈́̈́ę̶͉̭̔͊ ̴̨̦̯͚̔̾̒̅y̴̥͉̰͘ǒ̴͖͎̈́͠ù̶͖'̶͇͐́͌̿ͅv̴͖̤̩̦̉̂̾̃ẽ̶͈̜̪̉͠ ̷̬̮͙̆͐f̶͕̙̯͑͋́o̸͚̙͖̒̂̂r̵̝̄g̴̡͓̠͝o̶̙̾͌̓̅ț̵̓͒͠t̷̺͒̈́͘͝ẽ̷̘̳̖n̸͖͒̈̉ ̵̦̤̉̉ẁ̴̨̦̄h̸͎̾̋̌a̵̦̙̺͛͛̎t̴̪͓̀́̀ ̸̮̹̟̹̒̀ȳ̵̢̺̘͇̍̉͂ơ̸̡̧̡̜̈́͝ủ̸͖͙͔͎'̷̧̧͔̮͊͘v̴͔̠̳̜̈́́̉̇e̴͚̅ ̸̨̦̭͝d̴̲̯̀̑͛̊ö̸͓́̓n̸̝͌́̓e̴̜̥̥͐͝?̸̥̈͛͘̚"̶̡̙̾́ͅ
Michael couldn’t breathe. He slid onto his knees. He knew, on some rational level, that Evan wouldn’t want to see him. That he’d never be forgiven. “I’m sorry! I- I didn’t want that to happen. I-I-”
Fredbear began to shake in its spot on the floor. Its joints rattling. A flickering image of a boy standing with his fists clenched began to form.
“Evan, I-”
He looked just like the day he died. Same shirt, same shorts, same hair. The only difference was the bloody bandages around his forehead and his furyios expression. Evan never looked mad when he was alive.
"̵W̵h̶a̷t̶?̴ ̷C̶a̸n̸'̵t̶ ̷s̵p̸e̷a̶k̷?̶ ̶I̶ ̷t̵h̶o̷u̴g̷h̷t̸ ̵y̷o̶u̶ ̷c̷a̶m̷e̷ ̵h̴e̶r̷e̸ ̷t̸o̶ ̶a̸p̸o̴l̵o̶g̷i̸z̷e̶.̵ ̵T̴o̴ ̸s̵a̴y̵ ̶y̴o̵u̸'̷r̴e̸ ̸s̷o̵r̶r̴y̸.̶"̴
Michael swallowed. “I am. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to die. And I don’t want you to be stuck here anymore.”
̷"̷Y̶o̴u̸'̸r̷e̸ ̴s̸o̶r̵r̸y̵?̶ ̶Y̸o̸u̷'̸r̷e̷ ̸S̸o̷r̶r̵y̴!̷?̴ ̸I̷ ̵d̶i̸e̶d̵!̷ ̸A̵n̵d̷ ̷b̸e̶f̶o̵r̶e̷ ̶t̸h̶a̵t̴ ̶yo̷u̸ ̵m̸a̵d̵e̷ ̸m̷y̴ ̸l̷i̸f̷e̴ ̶h̸e̷l̸l̵.̷ ̸A̶l̶l̴ ̴b̶e̷c̶a̵u̵s̴e̷ ̴y̵o̷u̸ ̷c̵o̶u̷l̵d̵n̸'̴t̵ ̶b̴e̶l̵i̸e̸v̸e̸ ̶m̸e̶ ̷a̵n̸d̸ ̷n̴e̵e̴d̸e̴d̶ ̶f̷a̷t̷h̶e̶r̸'̵s̷ ̴a̶p̷p̸r̷o̷v̶a̴l̷.̵ ̸D̶i̷d̴ ̷y̴o̷u̸ ̸g̸e̸t̶ ̵i̵t̵?̶ ̷D̴i̶d̶ ̸h̵e̴ ̸s̵a̸y̴ ̵h̵e̸ ̷w̶a̵s̴ ̸p̶r̶o̸u̷d̶ ̴a̶f̴t̸e̷r̷ ̵y̴o̶u̷ ̸b̴e̴g̷a̸n̴ ̵t̶o̸ ̴a̵c̶t̷ ̷l̶i̶k̷e̶ ̶h̶i̸m̴?̴"̸
Michael flinched at the comparison. He didn’t mean to do it. He wasn’t like him. ‘You still did.’
“Evan, I don’t know what to say. I…” Tears slid down Michael's cheeks. “I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. But I’m still sorry.”
Something slammed into the still closed door. That was draining a lot of power.
"̷̯͊Ś̶̠o̶̤͂r̴̦͒r̴͉͒y̸̗̌ ̸̺̃s̶͚̐ȏ̷̲r̷̘̓r̶͈̉y̵͖̓ ̴̤̿s̷͜͠o̴͇̾r̸̨̈r̵͓̿y̴͓͠!̵̦̀ ̷̘͊Y̴̬̆o̶̧͒u̴͇͌-̷̟̓ ̴̺́Y̸̬̾o̸͇̅ų̸̈́"̶̢̃
Evan began to scream at this point. Tears were streaming from his bitch black eyes. The bear suit was rattling so hard it looked as if it was going to break its limbs.
"̷̝̆I̵̪͝ ̸̪͗w̷̆ͅa̷̘̿n̶͉̉ţ̷͑ ̴̹̋y̵̦̋o̴̭͌ü̴̞ ̵̨͆d̷̩̑e̷̪͊a̷͐͜d̴͖̎!̷̨́ ̷̢̏W̵͍̍h̸͎̔ÿ̵̹́ ̵͙̎w̷͘ͅö̵̠ñ̶̢'̴̡͋t̵̤̄ ̸̹̀y̵̝͗o̴̰͒u̶̱̽ ̵̢͋ľ̵̝e̴̛͕t̵̟̂ ̵̮̂m̷̤̆e̶͎͘ ̵̧͠j̶͓̎u̵͇͒s̴͓̈́ț̸̐ ̶͝ͅh̴̠̑a̴͓͂v̵̩͋ë̶͉́ ̴̥̏ṭ̷́h̶̼̕i̶͋ͅs̸͔̎?̵͔̿ ̶͉͝S̸̬̈́t̸͚̐o̷͇͒p̵̰̚ ̶̬̚b̶͙̌é̵̥i̶̲͠n̴̫͝g̵̟̋ ̶̥͛ș̴͋o̵͖̐r̸͇̒r̷̖̈ý̷̧!̴̰̏"̶̣̕
Michael stood up and began to back away. He slid towards the door. He could barely see clearly if there were any animatronics in the hall. He didn’t care if there were. Once he got out of the office he sprinted out of the building. He spent the rest of his shift crying in his car.