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October 31, 1983
THE PUPPET IS DETERMINED TO GET OUT. The gift boxes stacked on top of its own box weren't deterring it from its duty. It had to protect Charlotte Emily.
It kept throwing itself at the lid of its box, hoping to make the boxes on top fall over so it could get out. It had to get outside and find Charlie. For all it knew, the young girl was out there all alone, cold, completely soaked, muddy, and scared.
The boxes eventually topple over, crashing to the floor. The Puppet emerges from its box, the lid falling on the floor too. It looks around, green eyes screening the pizzeria for a green wristband.
It spots it by the back door. But Charlie was nowhere to be found.
Something within The Puppet activates as it climbs out of its box. Anyone who noticed the sudden movement was watching it with confusion. The only reason The Puppet ever left the confines of its box was to trade tickets for prizes or to prevent children from leaving. But neither was happening. These kids were confused, but The Puppet wasn't focused on that.
It had to find Charlotte Emily.
It headed to the back door and pushes it open. The weather is absolutely horrible. It's pouring down rain. The rain is battering the windows and the walls. The Puppet heads outside into the rainy night, the doors closing behind it.
The rain water seeps into the fabric of The Puppet as it makes its way around the building. The water slips behind the mask and enters the machinery within. The Puppet starts to malfunction, but it can't give up yet. Not now.
The longer it was out here, the harder it was to walk. So much water had gotten in and The Puppet could now barely stand. The LED lights of its eyes flicker sporadically and dimly, and its crawling through the rain puddles now. Mud is smeared onto the fabric and plastic of the animatronic toy.
Eventually, it reaches the trash. The rain is dripping off of the roof of the pizzeria and onto the dumpster's lid and into the trash cans. The puddles on the ground ripple from each droplet. The Puppet sees a trail of blood along the ground and mixing with the muddy water. It sees the form of a body, a bloodied one, and it knows that it's Charlie. It knows.
With the last remaining bit of energy left, The Puppet crawls toward her. There is no pulse from her. Mud and blood stain her clothes. Her hair was matted. There was a stab wound. Her throat was slit.
The Puppet wraps its arms around her and pulls her close, holding her tightly in its arms. If it could cry, it probably would.
