Whitney's Nights at Freddy's: An Untold Chapter (EDITING)

Chapter Three

She found herself pacing the room quite often, hands in her pockets as she distracted herself with the many posters and child-like drawings that hung in the office. Whitney hadn't expected much to happen, but she had hoped there was more to the night shift than her current predicament.

She half-heartedly spun around in her chair for about five minutes; she paced the room for ten minutes, then returned to her chair and watched several videos on YouTube; after convincing herself to abandon that method of entertainment to save battery, she found herself standing again and now looking at the "creative" pieces on the wall.

Some looked a little creepier than intended, but she didn't blame the kids for trying. After all, these drawings were old and beginning to wear, if some hadn't already.

Whitney sighed with new disinterest in looking at the old pieces of artwork. She released her hands from the comfort of her pockets as she reached up to scratch her head; looking around the room in hopes something new would make itself known to her and she'd find her fascination again. She was met with disappointment.

"I don't know what I was expecting," she began, making her way back to the office computer and looking at the cameras. "I guess a part of me figured I'd be working outside a single room," she muttered and glanced to the doors after reviewing the camera feeds, "but here I am, stuck in here."

She gave a deep sigh of despair and went back to pacing while listening to the room's ventilation as it came and went. It had taken her a little more than an hour to get over her persistent doubts and anxieties. Whitney was occasionally sobbing when she saw her thoughts wandering to the events of that night, but she felt in control of her inner turmoil again—at least for the time being. All she needed was more distractions.

Something, anything to get me out of this stupid office.

Whitney was already on the verge of going insane; typically, it took a person a few days of staring at the same four walls before they began to lose their minds. When she slumped into the office chair for what felt like the fifth time, she groaned loudly. She blew a curl of hair out of her face with a huff, but when it went right back in, she snorted in defeat. She closed her eyes as she contemplated what may be sufficient to satiate her craving for movement in such a still, dark, and foreboding atmosphere.

Her eyes opened at a thought that graced her mind, a mental reminder perking up her mood in an instant. "Why don't I clean the animatronics?" As quickly as it came, her mood was shut down by the echoing of Jeremy's words.

Don't leave this office. Don't lose power.

"For fuck's sake," Whitney scoffed, repeating the words to herself as she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temple. She had done just as he expected of her so far, but how long did he expect her to keep this up exactly? She was beginning to deteriorate with the rest of the place from boredom alone!

Even still, the notion of providing her services to the heroes of her youth nagged at her thoughts, nearly asking her to take a gamble with her job. Jeremy was the former nightguard, right? She thought about it briefly. Given his hurried departure an hour prior, it seemed improbable that he would offer to come check the cameras on his own accord. Whitney was dying to escape the "protection" of the office, but she couldn't help but remember the stares the robots had given her and Jeremy. Jeremy had called it a "glitch," and she somewhat agreed with him; nonetheless, animatronic eyes weren't designed to be "follow me" eyes, as they were dubbed.

Whitney looked back at the doorway and then at the cameras in front of her as her curiosity grew. She said faintly as if attempting to rationalize her impulses, "Not like anything is happening." She kept looking between the computer and the door while drumming loudly to the beat of her thoughts with one palm on her temple and the other on the desk.