I pulled up to the apartment complex I called home, dizzy from loss of blood; the pain of all my cuts the only thing keeping me from the dark, welcome abyss of unconsciousness. I got out of the old truck that had, mere hours ago, allowed me and my brother to enter this nightmare. Closing and locking the door of the thing was challenging, as my arm shook constantly, but soon I was walking through the mostly empty parking lot.

Sarah, the woman who welcomed people into the building and took care of divvying out the rooms, sat at the front desk. Thankfully, she didn't hear me walk in, careful with the door as I was, and I managed to get to the elevator without anyone noticing my presence. Of-course, it was just my luck that the doors opened when I was about to press the button and a young woman nearly stepped into me.

She let out a surprised gasp when she nearly ran into me and immediately began to apologize. "Oh, crap, I'm so sorry! I- What happened to you?" She stared in horror at the long, thin, bloody cuts that laced their way along both my clothing and skin. She began to raise a bigger fuss, but I quickly dodged around her and pressed the buttons to close the elevator door and get me to my floor. She was shocked enough that she only managed to turn around in time to see the doors closed. I hoped I wouldn't see her again; the poor girl had nearly alerted Sarah. That would've lead to a very awkward conversation; and someone stopping me from going back to the bakery.

I wouldn't - no... couldn't- let that happen.

The elevator stopped on the third floor, one floor below mine, and I prepared to dash out of the small box. The door opened to reveal a teenage boy, slightly younger than myself, holding a can of spray-paint and wearing an apologetic grimace. I barely hesitated, only for the moment needed to see where he was, but that was all the time he needed to spray me with his can; straight in the chest.

Right where my cuts were deepest.

I let out a scream as the paint in the can hit my still open wounds, and felt my limbs spasm in response to the pain. My knees also caved in, causing me to collapse to the ground and my mind to finally admit defeat and allow itself to give-in to exhaustion.

The last thing I saw or heard was the kid rushing over to me and calling for help. Then everything went black.

When I finally managed to return to consciousness, I let out groan and sat up, ignoring the throbbing cuts all over my body. I hadn't forgotten, even in sleep, what had happened and immediately tried to get out of bed. If I was going to be the new night-guard and save Pauls' life, I'd have to quit my current job and apply at the bakery. Hopefully someone else hadn't yet applied.

My thoughts came to a halt when I opened my eyes and saw a bedroom that did not belong to me. I sat there, frozen, for what felt like minutes as I tried to process what was going on. Then my memory clicked and I remembered.

I felt like punching the idiot and dropping him out of the nearest alleyway window, but that brought back memories that had me almost shutting down, and I forced myself to calm down. I was terrified that I might repeat what I'd done the last time I'd gotten angry at someone; I hadn't allowed myself to feel the emotion of anger in almost four years. Annoyance, jealousy, disgust, sure I'd felt those; but anger was another story...

I shook myself from my daze, and finished standing up. I walked to the window, letting out a sigh of relief to see that I had at least a few hours to do everything I needed to. That relief turned to panic as I heard voices outside the door, getting louder and nearer with every second. "How's his condition?" asked a harsh, lightly feminine voice. "He isn't sick Janice, but he's covered in really long cuts." Replied an equally light, though much more boyish voice, "I... I didn't want to check how deep they went..."

There was silence for a second and I began to work open the window, grateful that I recognized the building on the opposite street. We were only a floor or so below my own apartment. Then they started up again, just outside the door. "You like him, don't you!" Accused the girl; I assumed she was a girl. "What! No! I-" "Just admit you're a closet case! You spend enough time with your 'friends' and little enough with any actual people..." I could hear a chuckle after she'd said that, almost like they having an old argument that they'd turned into a game. "That's not true!" he shot back, obviously not playing along, "They may not be human, but that doesn't..." I couldn't hear the rest, my mind was too busy dealing with a sudden influx of information.

I saw a crowd of children, though it was through some kind of mask, and I was straining to hold in screams of pain. Every jerky movement that whatever suit I was in made, I felt my muscles stretch, my bones bend and crack, and even felt my skin tear slightly as was pulled to tightly. None of my life had prepared me for the amount of discomfort and pain I had been feeling for the past day; or the amount of exhaustion that I was now feeling. Blood-loss, lack of sleep, pain, and whatever twisted 'magic' the animatronic creatures were using to keep me awake only kept me awake; I still felt every agonizing bit of tiredness, even though I couldn't fall asleep.

Without warning, the suit stretched itself into a spine-stretching pose, and I felt another scream form inside me. I desperately held it in, though I didn't know why, I only knew something terrible would happen if I made a sound. Then I felt arms grab me, arms that weren't animatronic, or human. It felt almost like an elongated, freezing corpse was holding me in an embrace from behind. At the same time, I felt breath on my ear and a wet, fleshy, thing traced my cheek, leaving something that smelled like blood in its wake. Something whispered, "See you tonight."

My eyes snapped open, seeing the room I'd woken up in earlier, and I let out a scream. My arms and legs flung themselves, almost of their own volition, in random directions, trying to help do something, anything, to escape whatever had said those words. I struggled with the person holding me for a few minutes before someone else splashed water on us. I gasped in shock, nearly breathing in the water as the cold liquid snapped me out of my terror. I stopped moving and stared at the girl who had tossed the water on me, only to feel the arms that were holding me squeeze me again, probably afraid I'd start flailing about again.

The arms brought back memories; a similar situation, someone standing behind me...

I felt panic rising again, only to force it down. I wouldn't let my emotions get the better of me, not while Paul needed me. With my fear in check, I threw myself into a backwards somersault, surprising whomever was holding me and effectively wrenching myself out of their now-awkward hold. I then jumped to my feet, letting gravity pull me down slightly into a running stance when my feet had a solid grip on the floor. Both the girl and the boy(I could now see that it was the spray-paint boy who had been holding me) looked a little surprised; I was a little shocked as well, though I chocked it up to adrenaline.

"Look, I just wanna go home, okay?" I said, pain and exhaustion lacing my tone. I knew it was the wrong thing to say when they looked first at each-other, then back to me. The girl spoke first, her hands raised in a calming gesture; despite the large bowl in one hand. "You should probably just calm down and let me look at your injuries... okay?" She took a step forward and I tensed my legs, though I let my face show off just how tired I was. She took another step, emboldened by my apparent acceptance.

"Hey," called the boy, rubbing his arms and moving to stand up, "please listen to Janice. She's in med school; she'll know how to help you." He started to get to his feet, and Janice took another step forward. I bolted, pushing off the wall and dashing past her fast enough to shock her into frozen silence. I heard them start to give chase, though rather poorly, even before I reached the door. It had three locks that I managed to undo just as they got out of their hallway and into the front room. I pulled open the door and ran out, despite their protests and pleas, and ran to the staircase as fast as I could. I was running up the stairs before the stairwell door had finished closing behind me.

The boy was a fast runner to, though, and I heard him chasing me up the stairs before I could get to the next floor. When I did reach it, I saw that it was only the third floor; they must've taken me down a floor. I groaned as I kept running, past the third door exit and up to the fourth floor where my apartment was. I heard him pass the third floor door as I reached the top of the next set of stairs and mentally slapped myself for not thinking to try and confuse him by leaving the door open and slowing my own pace.

When I finally did reach the fourth floor, the highest floor of the building aside from the roof, I immediately threw open the door; only to be greeted by Janice's stern face. Before I could turn and dash away, she grabbed my shoulder and pinched the nerve above my collar-bone. "Stay still and let me help you!" She said, nearly yelling. I almost crumpled to the floor, the pain adding to what was already there, but I forced myself to ignore it and push her. The push made her fall to the floor, surprising her with its abruptness, and I leapt over her to keep running. Sweat had begun to form on me, and it stung my cuts like sea-water.

I kept running until I reached my door, which I remembered was locked. I fell to the floor and pulled up the welcome mat pulling at some stitching on the bottom until the key was visible. I then snatched it and leapt to my feet, my hand shaking almost too much to let me put the key into the keyhole. I managed to turn the key, but the boy grabbed my wrist before I could pull open the door. "What is wrong with you!?" he asked as his sister caught up with him, panting from the exertion, "Just let us help you and quit being so-" I interrupted him, choosing to fake my anger and try to scare him away. "You sprayed paint on my cuts and you expect me to trust you?!" He froze, the anger in my voice confusing him. Janice, for her part stopped as well;her gaze turning to glare at the boy.

I didn't wait to let her finish her glare, though. I knew I looked scared, and the anger sounded false even to me, but the boys confusion gave me a chance that I took. I kicked him in the stomach, winding him and making him trip into his sister, giving me enough time to open the door, step in, and slam it in their protesting faces. I twisted the lock, preventing them from simply opening the door and coming after me again. Then I reached up and twisted the lock near the top of the door, practically bolting it shut; I was not going to let anyone keep me from helping my brother.

I sighed, leaning against the door as they banged on it, trying to convince me to come out. I turned around so my back was against the door, then I slowly lowered myself to the floor. I finally let myself relax, letting the pain from every cut and ache wash over me, my own agony dulling itself.

Eventually, a few minutes after the yelling had stopped, I got up and unbolted the door. My roommate would get home eventually and need to get in. I then went to get myself cleaned up; If I was going to get a new job, and quit my old one, I'd need to at least look presentable. My mental bar of conscious thought would also have to be raised a bit, and I decided something cold would help. I would've gone with coffee, if the stuff hadn't been tied to some of my brothers' darker memories of our biological dad; or his memories of mom... Needless to say, we'd avoided the stuff, and I continued to do so out of habit. I grabbed a smoothie from the fridge instead.

After I finished the smoothie, I showered, changed, and even brushed my hair; something I rarely did. As I was doing so, my hair still wet from the shower, I realized that my cuts didn't hurt as badly as they had earlier. I carefully rolled up a sleeve of my shirt and saw that most of them had scabbed over, despite having been reopened less than an hour ago; some of them even looked like fading scars. I didn't know for certain what had caused it, but my mind began to believe that the rapid healing was somehow linked to the buildings early-morning self-repair. Maybe the animatronics were already active and I was late.

I stumbled out of the bathroom and nearly knocked over my room-mate, Keith. He looked like he was heading to the bedroom we shared. That surprised me; I thought I would've heard him come in. I grabbed his shoulders, as much to steady him as to catch his attention. "What time is it!?" I all but screamed in his face. "He seemed taken aback by the urgency of my tone. "Well... it's after seven. I don't know exactly when, I only just got home." He looked and sounded intimidated, and very much confused. I pushed him back slightly, trying not to jostle him as I flew down the hall, running hard. I stopped in the kitchen, horror flooding me as I saw that it was seven twenty-one; Simons would be closing soon. I called out a quick explanation before running out the door as fast as I could.

I made it to my truck only to realize that my keys had been on me when I'd first gone into the apartment that morning. They hadn't been in my pocket when I had finally gotten home. Behind me I heard the same boy from earlier say, "Finally, what took you so long?" I whipped around and saw him standing there, my keys on one of his fingers, a smug, if self-conscious, grin on his face. The girl, Janice, also stood next to him, her arms crossed and an expression of contempt on her face. "Why the heck did you run off!?" she practically yelled, stalking forward. I glanced at my watch; I had half an hour to make it to Simons, and I knew the way. I looked at the roof, thinking.

"Why on earth would you act like such an idiot?! And what are you looking at?" the last part was said so calmly and curiously that I looked down in surprise. The boy clenched his fist, eyes darting to the roof, and I saw a light come on in his head. I grimaced as he stared at me in awe. "You can't be planning to run! Not across the rooftops!" he exclaimed, amazement and what sounded like disbelief in his tone. Janice frowned and moved closer to me. "What are you talking about, Paul?"

The name hit me like a physical blow; I gasped, clutching my chest and trying to breath. My knees buckled and tears began to prick my eyes; panic flooded me too, along with phantom pain from injuries I'd never received. I felt them shaking me, felt them yelling for help, and I forced myself to move. I snatched the keys from Pau- the boy, and I lunged into a run, first away from, then backtracking awkwardly towards, my truck. I managed to get in, my vision fuzzing slightly from oxygen deprivation, and lock the door. Slowly, my breath came back, and I started the thing up. Maybe I could get to Simons before they closed if I hurried.

I called up my employer, the owner of a store who'd had me making party supplies, as I drove and let her know that, due to unforeseen circumstances, I'd have to leave my position. She accepted what I said and hung up, leaving me jobless. I all but sped there, too afraid of getting pulled over to risk breaking the speed limit. I managed to get there just as the manager- I prayed it was the manager -was locking the door. I threw open my cars door and ran over to him as he walked up to his car. He looked up in shock as I stopped next to him, panting slightly. My ears ringing and my heart pounding I spoke before he got over his shock.

"I'm here to apply for the position of night-guard!" I nearly yelled the words, barely holding myself in check. I was wound up tighter than a spring, and I felt I might simply pop if things didn't work out. "Well..." he said still confused and now a little scared, "how did you know we needed that position filled? We only just learned of Mister Sean's' dea-departure, this morning." He looked at me, fear showing in his eyes. "I... I was there last night when Sean died, sir." I replied bluntly, "I'm probably the reason he's dead, and..." I thought quickly, "And I want to make up for it. I feel terrible that he died, and I feel like it's my fault. Please let me atone for that mistake." I let a pleading tone enter my voice at the end.

He stared at me in abject terror for a moment, something obviously wrong about what I'd said. I bit my lower lip, hoping against hope that he'd agree. He shook his head for a moment, almost making me think he was saying no, and then he said, in a dejected tone, "Go ahead. I know that's not the real reason, but what does it matter? Go ahead, I guess tonight will be a sort of... test trial. Tomorrow, you'll officially become the security guard. Here are the keys." He looked up, what looked like hope sparking in his eyes, "Goodnight mister..." he let himself trail off, sounding anxious and hopeful at the same time. "Schumann," I replied. "Jack Schumann." His face fell, and he looked almost forlorn. "Goodnight Mister Schumann, and good luck. I'll see you tomorrow." He quickly turned back to his car and opened the door.

I watched him drive off and I noted his license plate. Based on the number, and the graffiti, I'd have said he was from san-Francisco. I shuddered and faced the doors of the bakery. I had ten minutes before eight o'clock, and it would probably be a good idea to get some sleep...

Something told me it would be better if I began to prepare for the night ahead, so I sighed and, after unlocking the doors, walked into the building.

____________________________________________________________

(A/N) Welp! Another section of my mildly disturbing imagination is up! Enjoy!

Your Poet (well, in this case, Scribe {-u-}),

-ShadeFinder ;)