FNAF Drabble Collection

Bastard

Chapter Prompt: Mike's Family History.

Mike's childhood was, for lack of a better word; tolerable.

Growing up without a father in the picture was something he didn't want to factor. He had a loving mother, at first; a tall, lean woman who spent half of her life in a secretary's uniform. The other half was spent in sweat pants and hair ties, constantly switching from second jobs to unpleasant sidelines to keep up the rent, and the needs of her more than rambunctious son.

The word 'spoiled' wouldn't exactly apply to him, but there's no doubt he was her priority.

There's no pin point as to when the toddler's fixation with pirates began, but she encourage his enthusiasm none the less. Fake hook, plastic swords, sailor caps, bandannas and a variety of skull and crossbones themed pajamas was all Mike ever wanted. Whatever spare money she had by the end of the month she gladly spent in the local Halloween store, stocking up for birthday parties and Christmas gifts and any clearance item she could get her hands on.

His first few years as a child was arguably the best years of his life yet. Then he got a bit older.

He still didn't know what Father's Day was when first grade rolled around, when other kids his age pulled out a marker and drew stick figures in their notebooks, adding a miniature one next to them. He watched one girl write 'daddy and me' just above the blue markings, tilting his head.

Pulling out a piece of paper, he creates his own drawing, a tiny crude doodle of himself, and a line and circle beside it. He doesn't know what a dad is supposed to look at, but according to the other kids, whom were happily drawing capes and superhero symbols over their fathers, he supposed it was to be whatever he idolized the most.

And so his 'dad' dawns a silly pirate hat, a scraggly beard and an eye patch. His teacher walks by as he finishes, raises a brow and opens her mouth, but remains quiet, continuing on her stroll.

It's big and notable, Mike standing up proudly to boast his work. A few other children wander over to stare, some in awe while others silent. Then, before the teacher could stop him, a boy his age leans over, scribbles out the pirate figure and writes a big word he doesn't quite understand all over his picture.

That afternoon, Mike steps off the school bus, hangs his bookbag, and asks his mother what the word 'Bastard' means.

She simply frowns and tells him to go wash his hands for dinner.

He lives in comfortable ignorance for a while. With his mother working two jobs and no one at home able to watch him, whatever time he didn't spend in school was either in the park or the children's restaurant downtown, one specifically managed so parents could freely drop off their kids and be on they're merry way, trusting the employees to keep careful watch as they ran errands.

Neighbor's often questioned this strategy, wondering to why she didn't just hire a baby sitter or leave him be in a normal daycare. Typically the response was the empty wallet in her pocket, and maybe because Mike had grown quite attached to a certain pirate animatronic. But it was mostly financial.

Freddy Fazbear's was little Mikey's domain. He knew all the hiding places, which employees to mess with and the exact times the animatronics were cued to begin another song. Listening to Foxy's stories had become a welcoming routine to him, not because he told of adventures and battles, curses and mermen, legends of ghosts and Davy Jones, but simply because Mike's childish mind was stuck to the idea that the fox was more than just a bot.

Little Mikey pulls a crinkled paper out of his pocket and holds it up to eye level, glancing back to compare the similarities between the doodle and the animatronic.