𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡

"𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙, 𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙨."

This was quickly becoming a habit of yours—showing up at Michael's door with a fresh bag of candy tucked neatly under your arm. A bad habit, too. One that always seemed to rear its ugly head whenever the crowd at Bonnie Bowl stretched too thin and the overhead lights started to flicker and dim, marking the end of your shift.

No matter how many quarters he slipped into your apron pocket when you he thought you were too distracted helping Bonnie to notice, there wasn't a song scratched into your jukebox that made you feel just as much at ease as a trip to the security office did.

The irony of that truth was almost as silly as the act itself—slipping away from the pulsing neon lights of the party floor to seek refuge in the dark and smelly underbelly of the building you were still able to get lost in after months of working there. At least in the dark it was easier to convince yourself that shadows slipping past the corners of your eyes were just that— shadows .

You stopped making excuses for yourself around the same time that you realized Michael wouldn't accept them. At first he would humor you—let you ramble about how you were having a slow day or how the ice cream counter was overstaffed again. You liked to think that he was just as content soaking up your presence as you were his.

But that wasn't exactly why you went out of your way to seek him out. Not tonight, at least. Michael's routine of picking you up from Bonnie Bowl and escorting you out of the building at the end of the night was experiencing an unexpected lapse and you fully intended on discovering why.

"𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢."

The only light in the cramped security office came flooding in from the monochrome screens perched high on the warped wooden desk. Blinking up at them confirmed what you had only feared up until then—that the building was completely and frighteningly empty. The only splotches of movement in a sea of fuzzy black and white feedback were the automated S.T.A.F.F members, fully charged and fresh off of their battery ports for a night of work.

Your candy jar was there too; empty and wedged between two animatronic plushies—the kind with the beady black eyes that seemed to follow you as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. You stole glances them every time you passed the gift shop and your old childhood collection of them was rotting in a box somewhere in your attic, but damn if those eyes still didn't creep the hell out of you.

"Michael?" you whispered, shattering the protective silence as you stepped over the threshold. He wasn't where you usually found him, hunched over the monitor with a sucker prodding out from the corner of his lip. He always seemed a little shocked whenever you came to see him even though you had a sneaking suspicion that the cameras mounted in Bonnie Bowl that followed your every move were a little bit more than a coincidence.

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙬 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙨."

You trusted him like you trusted no one else and you knew better than to disobey a direct order, but your heart lurched with every hour he failed to collect you. Nothing kept you hunkered down in the diner well past closing aside from the promise you made to him in the basement that night. His words echoed in your mind all day, beating through your eardrums like a second heartbeat.

"You're not supposed to be down here."

"Don't leave the bowling alley without me."

"You come get me if he talks to you again."