Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Millie screamed, kicking her arms and legs out and feeling her bones throb and skin bruise as she pounded against metal.

"Scream all you want, nobody can hear you, Silly Millie!" The voice that had haunted her for weeks taunted. "It's just you and me, but soon it'll just be me!" The laughter was like nails on a chalkboard, carving up her brain.

"I don't want to die! I don't deserve to die!" Millie shrieked, desperate. "I'm doing better! I'm being better! I'm just a kid!"

"Aw, no way, cupcake! You're still being selfish! You don't even care about what I want! How I've been bored out of my mind, only able to listen to you whine and whine about death and misery while you pore over books even older than me. And after all you made your choice, and now you have to live with the consequences! Well, actually, you'll die with the consequences!"

His entire body rattled around her, his blue eyes flashing from every angle as if they were filling up the empty space around her. She tried to force the door open with the cuff on her wrist, sobbing and trying to escape those damned eyes, eventually throwing her entire body against the door to no avail.

She heard the animatronic begin his jaunty countdown, a truly terrible french accent grating her ears, and screamed for her parents.

The rattling stopped.

The sound of a blade.

Pain.

Millie shot awake, struggling to move. Her body felt paralyzed, as if she was still trapped in the small cavity of Funtime Freddy's belly.

Her eyes rolled frantically in her head, almost like a dying animal, and she frantically willed her limbs to move. Though her room was completely dark, she could feel the horrible animatronic somewhere just out of her vision, grinning his horrible unhinged grin and just waiting to pounce. Terror seeped through her, down into her very bones, and she silently wept, tears falling down her face.

Was that a chuckle?

A creak?

A flash of gray-pink metal?

Plastic eyes that seemed almost human?

When she could finally move, Millie pushed her face into her pillow and sobbed. With shaky hands, she ripped open her curtains to let the moonlight in, and flicked on her bedside lamp. She quickly opened up her propranolol and took a dose, dripping water all over her sheets as she did.

She struggled to breathe evenly, remembering her psychiatrist's tips. She cast a quick glance out the window to make sure nothing was there, then around the room, and cried with the relief of it.

She brought her knees to her chest and truly cried, guttural and agonized, until she could cry no more. She swept the wet hair out of her face and heaved each breath, her limbs shaky and jelly-like. She picked up her bottle of water and groaned when she saw it was empty, the last of it spilled over her bedsheets.

She stood up and sighed, forcing herself out of the room. Just get some water, go pee, back to bed. Nothing's there. It wasn't real. They told me it wasn't real.But still, she ran as fast as she could towards the kitchen.

She gasped when she flipped the light on, adrenaline spiking back up and making her feel like she was going to puke. The stupid, ugly little rabbit hand puppet was on the kitchen table, a few screwdrivers and springs next to it. Her grandfather must have been fiddling with it when she went to do her homework and go to bed after dinner-what unfortunate timing.

"I hate these stupid robots." She growled, twisting away and stomping toward the sink. In reality, she hated the power they held over her. "I never should've let Grandpa bring that awful thing home." Though she faced away, she swore she could feel the smiling rabbit's eyes trail after her.

Her skin felt on fire, and she finally whipped around and bared her teeth at the wretched thing. "I hate you! I hate you and your big stupid buddy! I hate you and you can't hurt me! I'm tired of you controlling me! You're not real!" For the first time she really believed it too. She really was tired of hurting, tired of letting misery control her life. Tired of night terrors and the sleep paralysis and panic attacks and flashbacks to something everyone told her hadn't really happened. "You can't hurt me!"

The rabbit stared back at her blankly.

She stared right back, panic fighting rage in her chest like a pair of rabid dogs. "You know what? I'm just going to go throw you in the workshop right now. I'm going to prove to myself that none of it, none of you, are real!" Her heart pounded like a jackhammer, threatening to break free of her ribs. "I'm not going to let this control me anymore!"

She plucked the rabbit up from the table, ignoring the icy flames of fright rocketing through her hands and up her arms. She grunted at its unexpected weight, stomping to the front door and walking outside without bothering to even put on shoes. She headed straight for the workshop, ignoring the cold seeping into her feet, snatching up the spare key and throwing the door open.

Millie flicked on the light and shook violently, looking at the dingy old animatronic in the corner. "You stupid thing." She snarled, holding the hand-puppet at her hip and clenching her free hand into a fist. "I oughta just take a crowbar and beat you into junk metal!" Anger was so much easier than despair. "You're not real."

She looked down to the floor, trying to catch her breath and slow her heart rate. So much for the propranolol helping with panic. She focused on a tiny ant, crawling through the cracks in the concrete all alone. It soothed her, and she found herself hoping it'd make its way back to its colony.

"Well, that's no way to talk to a friend, lambchop!"

The entire world stopped for Millie.

"You know, before you looked like you were dressed for your own funeral. Now you just look like a scared little girl! I guess it's fitting though, right, with your latest fits and all!" The jeer was instantly recognizable and utterly undeniable.

Auditory hallucinations from stress. Maladaptive daydreaming. Her mind trying to create fantastic out-there scenarios to give her reasons to die. To hate herself. It wasn't real.

"You can't hurt me."

She looked up and nearly screamed, but it felt as if all energy instantaneously drained out of her. She just stood there, the weight of the hand-puppet like the entire sky on her shoulders.

"Aw, Silly Millie! I won't hurt you! I will kill you though, and I can bet it's gonna hurt anyways!" The animatronic bear grinned his inhuman grin right at her, eyes flickering cheerfully. He sat slumped on a bench, the wood bowed from his weight as he lifted one rusty arm, the metal giving a haunted-sounding creak, and held out a hand to her. "How about an encore performance? I've just been dying to see you again, cupcake!"

All at once, rage surged through Millie. She thought of her rude uncle, of Dylan falling for another girl and their embarrassing fallout, of her parents on the other side of the map, on Hannah for abandoning her, for this ugly old robot for torturing her and trying to kill her when she was just a child. For him mocking her and haunting her nightmares, and apparently waiting for her to return.

"I hate you!" She snarled. "I hate you, and I hate what you did to me! I'll burn this whole workshop down to the ground to get rid of you if I have to! I don't care what Grandpa does, or what the doctors say!" She grabbed the rabbit with both hands, screaming as she threw it into the wall. It crashed loudly into a pyramid of 1950s glass soda bottles, all falling to the floor and shattering. One of the rabbit ears snapped off, skidding across the ground.

Funtime Freddy laughed a belly-laugh, amused by her rage. He opened his mouth to cast more stones at her, but suddenly paused when his gaze jerked to the floor. "...Bon-Bon?"

Millie's face scrunched, confused. He said it like 'Bawn-Bawn', and so softly that it was almost a whisper.

"My grandpa told me this was supposed to go where your missing hand is." Millie murmured. "You miss your little pet?" She stepped forward, ignoring the red-hot pain of glass slicing into her feet. It wasn't the first time she had felt pain like it. "I should smash it before I smash you."

"Wait, Silly Millie!" The bear's voice seemed to rise a pitch. "Let's not be hasty… I'm only trying to help you, after all! Your fate was sealed the moment you crawled into my belly, the moment you began idolizing death over enjoying life! It's what you wanted, what you craved! I'm the best friend you ever had. And he's the best friend I ever had!"

"As if." Millie sniffed. "You can't walk right can you, you old thing?" Her eyes grew hard. "Tell me."

"Maybe not right now, but give your paw-paw a little more time and maybe we can make more than one dream of yours come to life." He cackled, almost as if he couldn't help himself.

"Yeah, right." She gritted her teeth, feet bloody and on fire from the glass. "You're about to get a fate way worse than a boring junkyard." Where is all this confidence coming from? Maybe therapy really is working.

Millie leaned down, hand outstretched for the rabbit's still intact ear. She would smash him against the wall again and again and again until the stupid bear cried, just like he had made her cry. And this time, she'd decide his fate.

"Wait!"

Millie stopped, frozen in time. Even Funtime Freddy didn't have anything to say.

"Millie, please stop." The hand-puppet rattled as it attempted to right itself, its round paws scrabbling for purchase on the ground. It turned its eyes up to her, a soft purple gaze that held not even a lick of contempt. He sounded boyish and charming, almost musical in the way that he spoke. "I know you must be upset, and very scared, but please let me explain things!"

All Millie could see was its inhuman eyes, the clacking of its jaw as it spoke. Even though it wasn't even two feet tall, she could picture its metal teeth digging into her flesh. She backed away, now realizing that she was in a room with two living animatronics, glass studded in the soles of her bloody feet.

She swore she could feel a blade inches from her neck.

"Please," She whimpered, all the fire gone out of her. She felt like little more than a tired fourteen year old girl again.

"Bon-Bon! Oh, I have so much to tell you! Where have you been?" Funtime Freddy beamed. "Let me take care of Silly Millie here and we can catch up!"

"No, Freddy," Bon-Bon seemed reluctant to take his gaze from Millie, but was swift in his denial. "How about we calm down and just catch up instead?"

Funtime Freddy's shoulders slumped. "Oh, but Bon-Bon, you have no idea just how bored I've been! It's been killing me! And now I just want to kill her, she's the most interesting thing I've seen in years!"

"I know, I know, Freddy." Bon-Bon pulled himself across the floor with his arms, speaking softly. "But I have so much I want to tell you too! Don't you want to hear?"

Funtime Freddy lifted his hand, tapping his wide chin with a single finger. "Hmm… I really have missed your sweet voice. And I've really been wanting to catch you up on all my fun research! I think I've grown to be quite the genius after…" He blinked, looking confused. "After something. Somewhere. Anyways, have you ever heard of an iron maiden?"

Millie stood silent in a corner of the workshop, her mind racing and feet burning. She watched their back and forth with bated breath, her mind desperately attempting to process what she was seeing.

Bon-Bon patted Funtime Freddy's foot, shaking his head. "I haven't, no! Why don't we connect and you can tell me all about it? The night is still young!"

Before she could hear Funtime Freddy's answer, Millie's body caught up with her sheer panic. She dashed out of the workshop and slammed the door, not even bothering to lock it. She ran until she was back in the house, upstairs and in her bathroom.

Her breathing went out of control, her vision spotty, and before she knew it she was heaving over the toilet. She vomited until her stomach was empty, until the tears stopped running, until she was left with nothing but shaking limbs and a hollow feeling in her chest.

She sat on the edge of the tub and pulled each shard of glass from her foot, not even whimpering at the pain-in fact, she couldn't even feel it. She was completely numb.

She didn't bother disinfecting, just rinsed them off and held a rag to her soles until the blood was staunched and stopped flowing. She stared at the wall for a long time, then down to the tile, and then up at the ceiling.

She leaned against the toilet, the taste of bile on her tongue, and just stared blankly forward until her body betrayed her and her eyes drifted closed.

XXX

Millie awoke to a stiff neck and sore back, curled up on the bathroom floor. Annabel Lee meowed loudly outside the bathroom door, and she could see her little black paws scrabbling underneath the door frame.

"I'm okay, Annabel," Millie murmured, yawning and scrubbing her eyes with her fists. "What a dream…" She began to stand up and winced at the pain in her feet, a flash of dread speeding up her awakening and settling deep in the pit of her stomach. "No… I've gotta talk to Grandpa. Why the hell did I just run away? I should've…" Should've what? Could a skinny fourteen year old girl really beat a giant robot bear to death? Burn a building down and go to juvie?

She limped out of the bathroom, grimacing at the pain in her feet. She quickly slipped on a pair of socks so her grandfather wouldn't notice, and shuffled forlornly into the hallway, Annabel Lee trotting beside her.

Her grandfather was in the kitchen, hunched over the stove. "Good morning, Millie! I saw what you did last night, so I wanted to do something nice and special for you. I found a recipe for these no egg banana chocolate chip pancakes, so I'm seeing how I do with them!"

Millie blinked, taken aback. "What...did I do?" Other than break glass bottles and run crying from animatronics again?

Grandpa turned around, smiling kindly. "I saw you took my Bonnie puppet up to the workshop last night. I know it would've been the first time you went back in there since Christmas, and I'm proud of you. You even put him on old Freddy. One of the ears fell off, but that'll be an easy was loose anyways." He chuckled. "That was very brave of you, Millie. I'm really so proud of how far you've come in a short amount of time." His voice turned serious. "But what happened to make you do it?"

Millie was dumbfounded. "...What? Did you see the blood and broken glass?"

He looked concerned, tilting his head with an addled, yet kind, chuckle. "No? Everything was spic and span in there, girlie! Were you having trouble with seeing things again?"

Millie felt the world spin, and had to lean against the doorway. "...No, Grandpa. The rabbit was freaking me out, so I took it out there. To face my fears too. I…" She battled within herself. Why would all the blood and glass be gone? Had it not happened? But her feet… She had hurt herself before though, and maybe the whole ordeal was sleepwalking and dreaming-her doctor had said it was a part of night terrors before.

Logic and fear roared at each other inside of her, battling for dominance.

"I… Was really scared last night. But I'm fine. Now."

"Well that's good sweetpea! You know, if you need to talk, I'm here." He smiled. "I know it must've been hard for you. But hopefully pancakes will make it easier."

He turned back around, and Millie slunk to the dining table, slipping down into her chair with a scowl on her face and a sour feeling in her stomach. Feeling crazy, confused, and downright miserable, she pulled out her phone and opened Woogle, beginning to aimlessly scroll on Pixogram.

At this point, she didn't know what to believe. She swore everything last night was real, but after weeks of treatment...how could something that fantastic possibly be true? But then again, how else would the hand puppet get out there? And what about her sliced up feet?

But where was the blood? The broken glass bottles?

She was stumped. She didn't know what was real anymore, and only wanted peace.

Well, there's always one way to be at peace… She thought of the poem she had written about death months and months ago, before Dylan or any of the animatronic insanity. A mysterious stranger, the only one in the whole cold universe who could set her free.

Girl Found Dead in Beach House Bathroom. Lab Partner Claims Robot Dog!

Millie grimaced at the headline on her screen. Robot bears, robot rabbits, robot dogs. Animatronics gone rogue? Or something more sinister? What the hell is going on? She suddenly felt cold all over, and both the soreness from her night on the bathroom floor and the cuts on her feet seemed to ache more fiercely. This strange new world of mystery that was forcing itself upon her felt too heavy for her head to bear, much less make some semblance of sense out of.

She startled when Grandpa slid a plate down in front of her, piled three pancakes high, pooling with maple syrup and fresh banana. He looked at her sympathetically and stepped around to his side of the table. "I hope you like them, sweetpea." He poked his head above a pile of knick-knacks, pushing them aside so he could see her better. "You sure there's nothing you want to talk about, kiddo?"

Millie shook her head, stabbing her pancakes with more force than she meant to. What can I tell you? That I wished I had been brave enough to burn down the workshop and the two...things inside it like I wanted to? That I can't figure out if I'm insane and suicidal or actually part of some terribly ironic horror story? She stuffed the pancake into her mouth, and forced a smile. "No, Gramps. I'm fine. These pancakes, on the other hand, are great though! Thank you for trying them out."

"No problem, Millie. I'm happy I'm finding more things you like!"

The syrup was soothing on her raw throat, and the pancakes really did taste great. But her lingering panic and dread remained, and she wasn't sure where to go from here without ending up in a police car or in the mental hospital. Not to mention the headline she saw weighing heavy on her mind now too.

Right now, the mess was cleaned and the doors were locked. That had to mean something. Right now, Grandpa was with her, and she was safe. She would stay with him until school, and then stay with him after too. Try to calm down and figure things out.

Tomorrow was another day.