"Hello?"

His voice. Oh my god that voice. It grounded her. In this night of pure chaos it grounded her. She fell to the ground, phone clutched in her hand. She was using the landline phone in Mr. Patrick's small house in the middle of the woods. Tears escaped her eyes, her eyes that had seen so much, they had seen her kill a man. She was not okay.

Was she ever okay? Are most people who are kidnapped not once, but twice ever okay? A sob escaped her lips.

"Hello?" Mike called again. "Fancy?" "Mike." she breathed his name in between sobs. "What's wrong?" He asked, urgently.

He knew. He didn't know exactly of course, how could he? But he knew something was wrong. Something terrible had happened, he just knew.

"Mike I need you. I need your help. Please." She begged on her end of the phone, clutching the landline close to her face. She was reaching for him, through that phone. The closer the phone was the closer he felt.

"Fancy what happened?" "I did something. Someone bad." "where are you?" He asked urgently. She could hear someone else in the background. Abby? No, not Abby, Vanessa. She was asking Mike what was going on. He ignored her. Fancy had all of his attention in that moment. And she always would from that moment on.

"24 Mirkwood Drive." "Mirkwood I know that road. That's on the way." "Mike you don't have time-" Vanessa said from the background. "It's on the way damnit! I'm not leaving her either!" He shouted.

"Stay where you are." He told Fancy who nodded even though he couldn't see.

"Mike." "yeah?" "Can you bring me some clothes?" "Yeah. I've got some in my car." He told her. "Just stay where you are, Francine. I'm coming. I'm on my way. I'm coming to get you." the call ended and Fancy stood from the ground and hung the landline up.

The landline, untraceable. She was never here. She never made that call. Someone else did. Not her. She was never here. She didn't kill Mr. Patrick. Someone else had to have done that. Wasn't her.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

She waited. She waited on the porch for him. She wanted to warn him before he saw what she had done, before she could cover it up. His headlights hit her first and lit her up. The bruised and bloodied barbie stared back. He parked and ran up to her.

"What the hell happened?" He asked as he grabbed her by her arms and looked down at her.

She was disheveled from head to toe and covered in blood.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head, more tears spilling from her eyes.

"He took me Mike." She said softly and Mike leaned down to look in her eyes as he brushed a strand of blood soaked hair from her face. "Who did?" "He did. The man. The man who took me all those years ago. He was here, Mike, and he took me again." "Well where is he now?" "I killed him." "In self defense?" she hesitated.

"No."

She finally replied. "No I had my chance to run and I had my chance for justice. I chose justice." She told him. "But to the law it will be self defense right?" "No." She said again. "No it won't be. It will be third degree murder at the very least, that's a thirty to life sentence. If capital punishment is off the table, that is." "Capital punishment?" "The death penalty." "oh...." Mike muttered.

"Well... how do we fix this?" He asked. She looked to him, blood obscuring her pretty features. "We do what William Afton did. We learn to adapt and over come." She said as she walked into the small house, stepping over Samuel's corpse.

Mike looked down at him as he followed, his face paled and he swallowed a mouthful of bile that threatened to spill out at the sight. "Jesus." He muttered. "You really messed this guy up." he added but Fancy didn't reply. She walked right over to the fire place and picked up two canisters of gasoline. She handed one to Mike and then looked him in the eyes.

"No body, no crime."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Arson?" "Arson."

This was her final full circle moment for the Bear Forest Snatcher. He had burned his own shack down, burning the bodies of the other girls he murdered with it along with any other evidence police could use against him. This would be Fancy's escape as well.

Thank you Afton and Patrick, you have taught me a valuable lesson. Fancy thought. If there is no body, how would they know there had been a murder? They wouldn't. To them, the authorities that is, it would seem as if the fire in Mr. Patrick's fireplace got out of hand and he had burned alive with his house.

Rest in ashes.

Fancy started dousing the ground with the flammable liquid, making sure to pour plenty on the body. Mike followed her lead. And before long their canisters were empty. Fancy tossed hers on the ground and Mike did the same. She looked to him.

"Did you bring those clothes?" She asked him "Oh yeah. I'll uh go grab them." He left to go to his car and came back with a grocery bag of his sweatshirts and sweat pants.

"They're uh mine so they'll probably be big on you." "That doesn't matter." She said simply and took the bag in her hands. "What do you need them for anyways?" He asked. "His blood is all over me." She said. "Evidence. To file a claim you must have evidentiary support meaning you must have evidence."

"Meaning?"

"To charge me with this murder they need evidence that I was connected. So I don't give them any." She threw her shirt off and Mike's face went bright red and he immediately looked away as she stripped. She took everything off. Shirt, pants, underwear, bra. All of it had traces of him on it and if she were honest she didn't want them anymore either.

They would hold reminders in them forever, reminders of this place and this night. She didn't want that. She pulled Mike's sweatshirt on over her head. "My clothes stained with his blood connect me to this crime. So they will have to burn." She explained and Mike turned back around.

She looked so small wearing his oversized sweatshirt. She certainly didn't look capable of murder, even if it was in the third degree, as she had said. "Now," She grabbed a lighter from the counter. "Let's commit arson."