𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 | William Afton x Reader

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮-𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

content warning - read with caution or don't read at all if you are uncomfortable with the following topics: detailed gore, trauma

William's POV

   Now that I was finally leaving for the day, I had my mind set on one thing. One person.

   Y/N.

   I felt guilty about the way she'd been feeling... after all, I knew pure hopelessness when I saw it. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to comfort her. The way I'd been acting didn't make it seem like I loved her very much, and that thought killed me more than anything.

   I exited my office, flicking the light switch off as I did so. The hallways were already dark - the lights had been shut off. Usually, I didn't leave so late, but here I was, struggling to see.

   But it was important to me that I got home as soon as possible.

   Suddenly, a silhouette came through the door frame at the end of the hall - the one that led to the lobby. It was lighter out there, since the sunlight outside could reach that room. They meandered over to me, seemingly not taking notice of me.

   "Hello?" I called out.

   The person paused.

   "Hello?"

   Much to my surprise, the answering voice was of a child - perhaps twelve or so was my guess. She approached me until she could actually discern what she was looking at, then gasped.

   "Oh," she said. "You look important. Are you going to try taking me back to my dad, too?"

   I frowned, then put my hands on my knees and crouched to see eye-to-eye with her.

   "Are you lost?" I questioned. But the girl shook her head.

   "I'm exploring," she corrected me. "And I don't want to go home. I want to stay here forever!"

   "...Do you, now?"

   The child was much shorter than I was, with short, jagged red hair and bright eyes. This must have been the one everybody was searching for earlier. I smiled, and the sane part of my mind seemed to wash away with the tidal wave of bloodlust that greeted me.

   One more couldn't hurt.

Christine's POV

   I watched intently, crouched in the doorway that the little girl had come through. I was right - she had walked directly into his vicious trap. In seconds, she'd be dead.

   Or, at least... I thought she would be. It was so hard to see in the dark that I couldn't tell what was going on.

   They were talking. It didn't strike me as odd that Vincent spoke with his victims before murdering them. He seemed like the type; charming and charismatic. I hated all of it.

   Eventually, Ray snuck up next to me to ask what was happening.

   "Hush," I whispered. "Don't let him notice us... I think he's-"

   Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the air, and I instinctually grabbed Ray. He tensed in my grip, eyes wide. It took no verbal conversation to let him know where I needed him to be - by the doors that led outside. Not here.

   He went his way, and I went mine.

   It was clear even in this lighting: Vincent had stabbed her. She was in a pitiful heap on the floor against the wall, likely bleeding onto the tile. The man was leaning over her body, reaching for the handle that stuck out of her reddened chest.