ｒｅｓｔｌｅｓｓ (FNAF x reader) )PAUSED

Ｒｅｔｕｒｎ

I'm here...again.

I know this place well now, here, there's nothing but the colour grey.

Heavy grey clouds of dark hazy smoke floating into an endlessly morbid abyss, churning in my movement as I stalk slowly through this empty space. It's all so suffocating, every time I find myself dragged into this world I'm left coughing out the putrid scent of burning ashes drying out my throat and stinging my reddening, watering eyes.

I wipe the tears, and slowly arising from beyond the haze is the feeble wisps of faltering young voices, their pained muffled sobs echoing through a thick garbling static. There is a pure terror within their pleas shaking me to my very core. I pant, panic, knowing that precious time to find the voices is drastically slipping from my fingers as their cries growing loudly desperate.

All direction becomes unclear, fleeting. Every useless turn I make to pull myself through the dense smoke feels like I'm brought further away from the disturbing screeches of these terrified children in the heavy white noise. I cry out as I'm lost again, pleading into the abyss as I twisted everywhere through the smoke, searching for the horror I cannot find, begging frantically to the unknown as gruesome gargles were brutally rooted out of their small bodies. When they quietened, stuttering and spitting, uneasily gasping for breath... I knew that their lives were coming to a sickly painful end.

I crash to my knees, eyes wide and teary hearing their last brief whimpers of life until there's complete silence. My stomach lurches, I run my fingers through my hair to hastily tug on the locks, repulsion was controlling and taunting me from the inside out.

why?... WHY AM I HERE AGAIN?!

And as if the abyss dared to answer me, the haunting dark song of a whisper brushed lightly against my ear...

"Ｉｔ＇ｓ ｍｅ．"

...These nightmares are always so similar.

The warm red glow of freshly birthed sunlight settled upon my closed eyes, lazily, my lids flutter to an indistinct scene, threatening to draw me back into the temptation of sleep.

And though I try, I can't ever truly progress back to the unconscious realm unless I desired to end up right where I was.

The blurs of awakening seem to happen quickly, it commences in adjustment to the light, shapes and shadows to instantly develop and mix together, bringing a cohesive scene to the eyes. Noticing the sequences of something so simple can be all so effective in leading you away from the present...

Upon the end of my bed, caught by the early golden sunlight, sat the slim figure of my Mother. I blinked twice, she held a steaming cup of tea in her softly aging hands with a faint half-drawn smile on her cheeks.

"Good morning."

Although quite informed on the repetitive discomfort that plagues my mornings, far from being described as 'good', she always greeted me like this.

Maybe with some hope that when I awaken... I would, in fact, have a good morning. But we've been through this situation far too many times to know that peaceful fairytale beginnings to the day were far from being within my reach.

"Mornin'" I mumble from twitching lips, I stretch my arms out to full length as a yawn rips my jaw wide open. "Was...I screaming again?" I mutter the question, noticing my scratchy voice and my heart's elated pulse yet to settle. 

My Mother simply nods her head then averts her eyes past me, retracing what the effects of my nightmare must have looked like from the outside. 

As the weight of cumbersome taciturnity stifled me from speaking any further, I flung my legs over the side of the bed and reach for the tea, but with my hand rather shaky, I sigh and put it back down, waiting for my body to calm down a little more until my throat can be soothed with the warm liquid.