The Fall of the Aftons

116: Michael Afton

Michael scrubbed and scoured the stains on the checker-pattern tile floor with a damp rag. Sure, the actions made his arm hurt more, but he didn't care. He couldn't care, not if wanted to be able to do things. All he wanted right now was to finish his cleaning rounds, go home, do his homework, and head over to Ella's house to hang out with the gang.

Suddenly, someone tapped his shoulder, making him flinch so hard that he dropped the rag. Agitation flared through him and he groaned loudly. "Would everyone please stop sneaking up on me?!" he shouted. "It's so excruciatingly frustrating!"

"Sorry," Henry apologized quietly. "Where were you hiding? We couldn't find you."

"I was in the supply closet."

"Why?"

"I was getting cleaning supplies."

"For your entire shift? Bullshit."

Michael shrugged, unsure of how to answer.

Henry was quiet for a few moments before he asked, "What'd you do to your wrist?" He pointed to the wrapped bandages around Michael's wrist.

"Nothing."

"Michael, I know that's not true."

"I said nothing!" he exclaimed.

Henry stayed quiet for a few moments again before he sighed. "Will, I'm going to take Michael home to get started on his homework!" he shouted through the restaurant. "Can you finish everything up here?"

"Yeah, sure," William shouted back. "I can finish everything. Meet you at my house in a couple of hours!"

~ ~ ~

"Holy shit," Henry mumbled as he inspected Michael's with extreme caution. "How are you not in tears, screaming in agony? I was sobbing for hours when it happened to my hand. And you're sitting here with your whole arm springlocked!"

Michael shrugged in silent response.

"How did this even happen?" Henry continued, his voice filled with worry. "You're not even allowed to touch the costumes because of how dangerous they are because things like this can happen!"

"I... I-I don't want to talk about it."

Henry hesitated. "Okay. That's fine, I guess. I won't make you tell me."

Henry started to clean the numerous wounds left on Michael's arm from the springlocks. It took all that he could to not scream in sheer anguish as the iodine and water mixture disinfected the bleeding cuts. His entire arms burned deeply and stung sharply, only adding to the overall pain in his arm. Hot tears filled his eyes and he tried to blink them back, but he failed within seconds. They spilled out of his eyes almost immediately, blurring his vision.

"How were you cleaning the floor with your arm like this?" Henry asked, trying to distract Michael from the pain. "I couldn't even hold a piece of paper when my hand was springlocked."

He sniffled. "I gritted my teeth and dealt with it."

"You must have a high pain tolerance, then." Henry laughed softly before he sighed exhaustively. "You should tell your father about this. He can call your physical education teacher and tell him that you can't participate for a while."

"No. That's not necessary. I'll be fine."

"Michael, your arm is covered in cuts and gashes that will hurt like Hell if a feather lightly grazes it. You are in no condition to do your P.E. class anytime soon. Or work at Fredbear's and Fazbear's, too. You need to rest and let your arm heal."