Teddy Bear And Cotton Tail-Five Night's At Freddy's

I never Understood (Not Fronnie)

(This is all in Foxy's pov)

I never understood why my parents were together.

My parents were.........okay,together.My mother was around a lot more than my dad.Mom was my full-time carer,stay at home mom,and an absolute angel.Any friends who came around to my house claimed they wished they were her kids,and she made all other parents on our road jealous.She was a home maker.An amazing mother,wonderful wife,anything you could want.But don't get me wrong,she wasn't some prissy perfect housewife.My mother stuck her ground in any argument,and didn't let anyone push her around.She was so smart,always ready with a witty comeback.I got to see this a lot with my dad.

Dad went to work everyday,usually got home about six.He did a lot of stuff with me on the weekends.Dad was a real outdoors type,loved camping,fishing,all that stuff.He'd gotten me into Cub Scouts when I was really young.But that was really all their was to him.He didn't spend as much time with me as mom did,only really when he wanted to.Me and mom were a team,we worked together to maintain a great mother-son relationship.But me and my dad weren't a team,and we didn't have a good bond.Sure,we had fun together,but it just seemed like he only wanted to be around when it benifited him.

My parents weren't ever too pleased with each other.I could sense it,even when they plastered on fake smiles,thy were unhappy.They'd never say they loved each other.They'd never hug.They'd never hold hands.They were just numb towards each other.

I never understood why they stayed that way.

There was a lot of stuff I didn't understand about my parents.

I never understood why they started fighting.

When I was about five,they began fighting.Not normal fighting.Screeching at each other.I'd heard it a few times before-when I went to bed at night it kept me up.

But then I remember the first day the big fights started.I got in from school,ran into the kitchen,and there they were,screaming their heads off.

I really didn't like it.

For the first few big fights,it only happened once or twice a month.But within less than a year,it was everyday.

I never understood a lot of things about my parents,but I thank them for the greatest gift they ever gave me.

I didn't really know how I felt when they told me mom was having another baby.

Throughout mom's pregnancy,the fighting got worse.It made me so mad and upset that I just distanced myself,and learned to do things for myself.I didn't care.I wanted my mother to be hurt by my actions.I wanted her to feel guilty for her and dads constant arguing getting in the way of me and the baby.

After six months,dad dragged me to the hospital and sat me in the waiting room for hours,not even talking to me.He'd stepped out so many times,claiming he needed to take some work calls.

I was so tired when mom's doctor finally came out to me.She didn't take me to an infants ward.My baby sibling wasn't being kept with the other newborns.

Instead she took me into the room beside moms,the one the doctors had taken the baby.Most of the doctors had cleared out with only one or two left to monitor the newborn.

The doctor told me it was fine,to go ahead and look.

I couldn't believe what I saw.There he lay in the incubator,a tiny five pound baby,barely alive.He could probably fit in my two hands.Me,a six year old.

That moment changed me.I stood on my toes,looking into his little glass box,staring at him with huge eyes.I wanted so bad to hold him,to see just how light he was.But I knew I couldn't.