Chapter 4

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Henry awoke in the morning, sighing from relief. He'd escaped, dream free. Maybe he should start drinking one too many drinks at night, he thought to himself.

He flipped the covers off himself and got out of bed, heading for his closet. Once the doors were open, the clothes he wanted to wear stood out to him and he made his way towards them. Pulling off his pajamas, he tried to avoid looking in the mirror, and threw on a orange button down, suspenders, and a pair of dark brown dress pants. Henry took a tie that matched the color of his pants and tied it up, humming to himself as he did so.

Henry made his was downstairs, clutching the railing in fear that he knees might give out, for he was starting to get arthritis. The refrigerator door was open in seconds and he was reaching for his coffee. Now all he had to do for the perfect cold-brew is add a little sugar and milk.

Once his coffee was done, he made his way out to his old Volkswagen Bug, heading to work. Opening the car door, Henry sighed. He couldn't wait to get a office job again. After the Fazbear Franchise closed down, Henry's only option for work was a gas station cashier.

He drove towards the gas station, tapping his hand on the steering wheel and singing softly along to the song on the radio. "Wake me up, before you go-go." He turned on his blinker to make his way into the gas station parking lot. A few employees lingered outside, spending their break after the night shift smoking cigarettes.

He opened his car door and walked to the front doors and opened them as well, still singing softly though the music stopped. The male made his way behind the counter and put on his name badge. Henry Emily. Yep, that was him. He pushed his glasses up his nose and waited for the first customers to come in.

Throughout the day, at least twenty people came in a bought some chips or soda, maybe some cigarettes or beers. Henry passed his six hour shift by writing out a new business plan. He had loved having his own business, now he wanted to make a new one. A better one. One where no serial killer would come in and ruin it for him.

Nearing the end of his shift, Henry was cleaning up behind the counter. Some of the workers left their trash back there and it got on his nerves, him being a work perfectionist.

"Hello, sir?" A voice, one slightly familiar, said. Henry stood up straight and looked at his customer. Brown eyes, dark brown hair, a small goatee. Henry gasped and reached for his back pocket, pulling out pepper spray. "William!" He growled. William raised his hands up in a way of surrender. "Woah, old friend, lower the pepper spray!" Henry disobeyed and kept it aimed right at William's face.

William did look quite different. His hair was longer, long enough that it was pulled back into a small ponytail. He looked exhausted and worn down. He was skinnier than he was last month, significantly. Henry glanced over all of William's features, watching his every move—no, breath— at the same time. William smiled.

"Did you miss me?" His voice wasn't teasing or sarcastic, but curious. Henry furrowed his brow. "You killed my kids. You killed other people's kids... I didn't miss you, serial killer." William winced and lowered his hands, hurt. Henry raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry. I want.. I came to apologize. I know you deserve more than an apology but I can only say I'm sorry. You deserve my life. You should have the right to kill me. I just wanted to say I'm sorry, though." Rage filled Henry and kept his pepper spray pointed at William as he walked around the counter to go lock the buildings doors. It may not be smart, but he didn't want anyone walking in on him yelling at William.

"You... YOU CAME TO SAY SORRY?!" He screamed, William wincing again. "YOU'RE RIGHT. I DESRVE MUCH MORE THAN A 'SORRY'!" William nodded fervently. "I know, I know! Please though! Hear me out!" Henry screamed more but nothing was intelligent speech. William eventually was able to speak once Henry had screamed his throat raw.

"Look, I have something to say. It will sound crazy, but please just listen to me." Henry sighed, unable to scream at him more to tell him he didn't want to hear what he had to say. William pushed himself on the counter, which is when Henry realized that they matched. They bother we're wearing the same clothes, just different colors. William was wearing purple and black, rather than orange and brown. He really did look good in purple... Henry furrowed his brow angrily and pushed the thought out of his head.

"I was controlled. I didn't kill your kids."

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