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(tw: death, gore, ptsd, mentions of drinking, mentions of abuse)
HE'S LOST TRACK OF TIME. How long has he been down here in this personalized hell of his that Cassidy has created? He doesn't know. He stopped counting after day seven, when he was faced with the Old Friends challenge. But now he was faced with a new challenge, one he couldn't even bare to understand why it ever existed in the first place.
50/20.
The non-camera tablet sits in front of him, all fifty animatronics and distractions selected, all set to the max level difficulty: twenty. He sucks in a breath, trying to fathom why Cassidy would ever create this challenge. It already didn't seem possible. William could deal with a few animatronics and distractions at a time per night. But all of them at once? On the max level difficulty?
When he tries the night, he only lasts six seconds in this new challenge. Five animatronic distractions spawn in the office immediately. William does not bother to try and make them go away; he just wants to see how long he could survive without fending any of them off.
Nightmarionne was the one to kill him, though. Long, striped arms reach over the desk, spindly fingers grabbing him forcefully by the throat, lifting him out of the chair.
The camera monitor falls from the man's pale, bony, hands as he screams. William struggles in its grip, wriggling and writhing violently in agony. He claws at the animatronic's hands as it presses its fingers against his throat, bruising it and crushing his windpipe. The sharp ends of its fingers dig into his throat, piercing it.
He chokes on his own blood and the lack of air making its way into his throat. Tears prick at his eyes as he continues to try and claw at the black and white fingers having a death grip on his throat. But it's no use. The pain is becoming unbearable.
There's a resounding crack and crunch. Two different things have happened. Nightmarionne has snapped his neck. Nightmarionne's sharp, metal teeth have clamped down on his head, crushing his skull and brain. Blood pours from the wound in his head, cascading down his face.
It's not long before darkness consumes the man and what was once in front of him vanishes into nothingness. He rubs at his throat, grimacing at the invisible pain. He soon realizes he hasn't spawned back in that dreaded amalgamation of an office.
He's just in the pitch black darkness still.
"Hello?" his voice sounds hoarse, echoing in the darkness.
