The Fall of the Aftons

052: William Afton

William flopped onto his bed and buried his face into his motel mattress. That whole bloody funeral service was three and a half hours of his life wasted. Wasted with his stupid mother, who wouldn't shut up about him finally having a family. Wasted with extended family members that hated him because he was homosexual. Wasted with his step-father's "friends" that had heard nothing but bad things about William from Jamison.

At least the food was good. Most of it, at least. The green bean casserole tasted like it was poisonous, though. It was obvious his mom had made it. His mom was never a good cook. Probably where he got it from. And his sister. His birthfather and brother were good cooks, though.

He flopped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He wondered what was going on at home. He had called earlier that morning, but none of them had answered the phone. They must've left early so they could stop by Fazbear's before Henry dropped the boys off at school.

He sat up with a tired groan and reached for the phone on the nightstand, then dialed the Afton home number. He put the phone up to his ear. He played with the curlicue cord as it rang. The phone continued to ring until it went to the automated voice message.

That's weird. There were three phones in the house, one on each floor, and they were plenty loud enough to hear anywhere in the house--even if you were up in the attic!

William put the phone back on its base. They must not be home, he decided.

~ ~ ~

William shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his key ring. He fumbled to find his house key. When he found it, he slid it into the front door's lock and shoved the door open. He walked inside, dragging his suitcase inside behind him. He left the suitcase next to the doorway as he shut the door and put his keys back in his pocket. Just as he was about to grab his suitcase to bring it upstairs and empty it, somebody's scream reverberated throughout the house. It sounded like Michael.

"Michael? Is everything okay?" he shouted, looking around for his son. "Hello? Anybody?"

"Henry, Uncle William is home!" Terrance shouted from somewhere in the house. The boy suddenly rushed down the stairs, stopping halfway. He looked worried. "Follow me, Uncle! There's something we have to show you," he said before he ran back upstairs.

William left his suitcase and followed after his nephew as quickly as he could. Terrance led him to the bathroom on the second floor. There Michael was, sitting on the edge of the sink counter. He winced as Henry carefully unwrapped bandages from around the little boy's leg.

"What in the world?! Michael, are you okay?" William asked frantically as he rushed to his son's side. "What in the world happened?"

"Some bastard decided that it would be a great idea to take scissors from their classroom and slice him up with the blade," Terrance grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was definitely not happy with this situation.

"Ow!" Michael exclaimed, grabbing onto William's arm. "Henry, be careful! That hurt!"

"I'm sorry, Michael. I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," Henry explained, frowning.

Terrance suddenly grabbed William's hand and dragged him out into the hallway.

"What's wrong?" William asked. "Did something happen while I was gone? Other than what happened with Michael, I mean."

"N-No, nothing happened," he answered quietly. "I'm... I'm worried about Michael. He hasn't been eating anything recently--he told me that his classmates are always mocking him and calling him fat--he's clearly underweight--when he does eat, it's not nearly enough. I... I think he may have an eating disorder of some sort."

William chuckled. "I doubt he has an eating disorder, but I'll keep an eye on it. It's sweet how you're so worried for him, though."