The daisy

\ 7 - 9 /

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Bonnie

I could spend the rest of my life writing a book about the restless suffer I was going to get through today and the rest of the days Springtrap decided to come over and that way satisfy, what seemed to be, his wild lust. Despite all he'd done, I found this wasn't something I was gonna be able to seal deep down; Chica hugged me today in breakfast, and I felt like they dropped the whole stereo over me. I could tell Frog was subtly studying the way I moved and shuddered all breakfast long.

   Some humans had already gotten in the restaurant. I barely spotted them huddled in the parking lot, but for sure they hadn't checked the dining area yet. Chica and I were in our original positions totally motionless; Foxy had talked with us about the possibilities of these men to go and inspect every bedroom, including ourselves as robots. Fortunately, Frog wasn't part of Freddy Fazbear's crew, so she had locked herself in with Freddy. Not even in my other life I would forgive myself if something happened to him.

   "Bonnie," Chica whispered, "Bonnie."

   "Chica?" I whispered back.

   "Are you ok?"

   "What do you mean?" I kept whispering.

   "Didn't I hurt today in breakfast?"

   "Don't worr—" And then I went quiet when I heard someone walking into the place.

   It must have been 8 A. M. due to the fact that humans weren't used to come across this early.

   "We'll just need to work from here, to here."

   "I'll get the others."

   Some men were talking in the entrance of the restaurant. I opened slightly my eye so I could make out what I was hearing: they were two men dressed up with white shirts and black ties. One of them had crotched down to, apparently, pick something up from the floor.

   "Mike Schmidt."

   "What?"

   "This was on the floor."

   "What is it?"

   "Looks like an identification."

   Those men got closer to each other to see what one of them picked up from the floor.

   "He's an employee of the restaurant. He works here as a night guard."

   "Good for 'im, he won't have to be here picking up this crap."

   "Good for him? Who'd dream of spending a whole night here with those freaks?"

   I saw one of them pointed at the stage. I quickly closed my eyes again.

   "What's up with them?"

   "This restaurant's got a longer history than you could imagine, s'just hard to find out the real one." The men kept talking to each other.

   Even though their conversation was pretty hearable, somehow I found it quite worthless to obtain clues or more theories about the past of this restaurant.

10:00 P. M.

After several hours standing up and zoning out, there was no way for me to contain my exacerbated necessity to flee to the bathroom. Chica, a few minutes ago, got out from here. She walked toward the kitchen to make dinner; thankfully, she wouldn't stop cooking around here, not even before a half collapsed wall that granted quite a view from outside.