Chapter Text
Breathe in, breathe out. That’s what Michael’s therapist once said to do. His panic settles down when he sees the house, still left as is. It had not changed at all since he had moved out. He was very young then, freshly 18. He couldn’t do it anymore. Not with his father. Not that he even knew his father anymore.
No one has heard from his father in a few weeks. Not the neighbors, not the few remaining people that even gave a damn about him. No one knew what a monster that man was. These people only knew of what Michael had done and glared at him. That’s what the people in this town did, they glared at him, avoided his gaze, and all around, avoided him. He was essentially an outcast from the time he was thirteen until now. Of course, he couldn’t blame them after all he had done. It was no wonder he was hated by everyone, even his own father hated him.
Uncle Henry never hated him, he always treated him kindly, but he wasn’t here anymore. Since Charlie’s disappearance, and his wife leaving him with their son, no one had heard from him. He sold his rights to Fredbear’s and moved away. Michael hated him for it. Why couldn’t he have stayed? Henry knew that Michael needed help, how could someone do that to a kid?
Michael looked down at the letter, wondering how his father could lose his mind. Look for his sister? Elizabeth has been dead for years now. There was no way he could find someone dead, but according to his father, she was right here. He never knew much of her death, besides the basics, an animatronic his father built had caused it and there was no way to give the burial that she deserved. The house was silent after her death. His father became crueler in his ways. His mother left and never thought of taking Michael with.
This damned house, with all its hellish memories, and all his father’s experiments. It was the reason he left, for who could stay with a father like him? He could never forget the nights he would walk into his father’s workroom, and seeing the papers thrown about, the contraptions’ he would make. It only took Michael to find the notes about a fear gas to leave, he had known that it was used on him. He knew his father wanted to torment him about the incident. Those horrible creatures will always haunt him for the rest of his life.
Approaching the front door was something else, the weeds had overgrown onto the walkway, and the grass had begun to die off, turning a sickly yellow and leaving bald spots showing the dirt underneath. Trash had been left to sit on the porch, which had left a putrid smell causing Michael to plug his nose. The animals surely have gotten to it at this point. This was not how he had once remembered it. Once upon a time, the front yard had been neatly trimmed and taken care of. Not a single imperfection had existed.
In front of the door sat a mat, it was long beyond the point that anything could be read on the mat, but Michael could only assume it was a Freddy’s mat. The house had always had Freddy’s merchandise all around, Michael’s entire childhood had revolved around it after all. He bent down and lifted the mat as gently as possible, and slightly grossed out. Beneath the mat sits the spare key that his father had always kept. With quick precision, Michael picks up the key and inserts it into the keyhole. The locks had not been changed, though it gave a little resistance. Michael steps into the house.