That moment when you're pretty much as sleep deprived as the main character of your book-

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Mike bolted awake, sitting upright on his bed, drenched with sweat, snot, and tears. His temples were throbbing, his breaths were heavy, his sobs were loud, and his entire body was trembling. He was in his own room, with only the moonlight from outside shining through the half-closed blinds.

He rolled to his side and checked the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand beside his bed: it was half past three in the morning.

The teen then sat back up on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands, wiping the dried tears away. He kept his head bowed down and sat there, feeling as if he was drained of all his energy. A few minutes later, he managed to get up and slowly walk to his door, but he had the drowsiness still burning his eyes. He peeked outside the hall. It was dark outside, and there was only one night light at the end of the hallway.

Mike reached for the flashlight on his nightstand and shone it into the dark hallway before going outside of his room. He walked down the hall with quiet steps, moving his light from side to side, checking all of the doors as he wandered about. He walked up to one door and opened it, realizing that it was the closet. The teen reached for the light switch and clicked it, the orange bulb flickering on, showing that the inside was filled with clothes, most of them being his and his father's.

The beam circled the small space, until he noticed something chilling: some of the clothes were torn, like something sharp slashed them. Then something on the floor reflected the beam back to him. He looked down at the object and picked it up.

It was a hook.

Mike dropped it in shock, recalling that the hook was his and that it came with the Foxy mask he owned. However, he found it odd, because the last thing he remembered was that he left the hook back at the diner. His heart thumped, uneasiness creeping into his veins. This isn't supposed to be here. I left it at the diner with the mask.

He stepped back outside and closed the door before facing the hallway back again. Lizzie couldn't have brought it, he knew. She was staying with one of her friends.

"Mom? Dad?" He called out, but there was no reply. The house was dead silent. His parents weren't home yet, he realized. He remembered that they were still at the hospital with Evan.

Evan... Oh, God...

Tears began to leak from his eyes once again. It was like he was blinded by his swollen eyes. He shook his head and proceeded to walk through the halls, but at the back of his mind were those horrific memories, especially what happened last night.

Deep in his mind, among those thoughts was him wishing that everything happening to them was just a dream.

The beam moved around the hallway until it stopped at a partially opened door of a bedroom. The teenager walked towards the room and turned on the lights. Inside was an average-sized bed covered with a blue and yellow bed sheet that was untidy. And opposite Mike was another door that led to a different hallway. The floor was covered entirely with sky blue carpet; there were toys scattered on the floor, too, a purple toy telephone set and a bunch of colorful blocks.

Evan’s room.

He walked inside, the smell of a child's cologne filling his nose: the sweet scent of lilac that Evan would always wear. He looked at the toys on the floor and reminisced the times he'd catch his father playing with his young brother.

He checked the nightstand where he spotted a yellow Fredbear plushie- Evan's favorite toy- sitting on the top with three other stuffed toys: Freddy Fazbear, Chica and Bonnie. Mike recalled that he would oftentimes catch Evan talking to the plushies in his room, as if they were alive.

To his left was a large closet, the doors having wooden blinds on them. He reached for the knob and pushed the doors open, sliding the panels and folding them to the side. There were a few clothes on hangers, but what caught his attention was a small doll among the shoes on the floor. It was missing its head, and the white cotton stuffing was exposed through the large opening on its neck. The toy had red fur and a small hook on one of its hands.

A Foxy plushie.

He picked it up and looked at it, and upon seeing the macabre-like appearance of the headless toy, the horrible memories replayed in his mind.

Mike waited in the dark space, peeking through the blinds as a beam of flashlight bobbed around, moving right outside where he was, and illuminating the bedroom. He snickered, his slow and steady breaths brushing against the inside of his Foxy mask.

This is gonna be fun. He thought, waiting for his queue. The light grew bigger, accompanied by footsteps. He looked through the slits on the door and watched his helpless victim walk into his trap. I can't wait to see the look on Evan's face.

Dead silence surrounded them, almost as silent as a graveyard. Evan trembled while he walked across the bedroom, obviously nervous about what could be awaiting him.

"Hey!" Mike uttered, breaking the silence and catching his brother's attention. He saw Evan turn his head to his direction, eyes widening in fear.

"Who- who's there?" The young boy asked, trembling and terrified, a sight that brought joy to the older brother. Evan had the flashlight and his Fredbear plushie with him, clutching them tightly.

Mike prepared himself, his heart leaping with excitement as he held the doors shut. Evan, a little closer, now. He watched his brother take small steps towards where he was, grinning to himself. When the kid finally was close enough, Mike shoved the door open and screamed as loud as he could, leaning towards Evan and bringing his terrifying mask near his face.

The little boy fell down onto the floor, screaming in fright, holding onto his Fredbear plushie tightly. Evan closed his eyes and wailed, crying loudly.

"Got ya!" Mike laughed at his brother, feeling not a single shred of remorse, but rather entertainment, whenever he managed to scare Evan.

"Why, Mike?!" Evan wept, "Why are you doing this?" He lay curled up on the floor, feeling the carpet brush against his cheek, never looking back up at his brother.

The older brother laughed sarcastically, "Don't be such a baby, which you are."

"I didn't do anything bad to you..." Evan replied, whimpering. "You're a monster."

You're a monster...

You're a monster...

You're a monster...

Those words echoed in his head over and over again.

The cold breeze of the morning wind blew against the curtains as he walked to his brother's bed. Chills ran down Mike's spine, the silence of the night terrifying the teen in a way that didn't happen before. Perhaps it was just the lack of sleep, but Mike could have sworn that something was watching him.

He collapsed on the bed, feeling the soft, cold mattress cushion his fall. He reached for the covers and went under them, the comforting scent of lilac wafting through his nostrils.

The words kept replaying in his head like it was stuck on a continuous loop. He curled up like he was seven years old again, holding the headless Foxy plushie near him and bringing his knees to his chest. He stared into the darkness under the sheets as he trembled, remembering the horrible things he did to the little brother he was supposed to protect.

This is all real. Nothing can change the past. I can't undo what I've done. Oh, God.

It was driving him insane, knowing that life will never be the same again, that his baby brother may stay in a coma for the rest of his life, or end up passing away during the night. Mike didn't know which would be worse, in all honesty.

The tears trickled down the side of Mike's face and onto the mattress. He let his growing depression trigger his drowsiness and rock him to sleep. But upon closing his eyes, Mike saw nothing but the image of his brother's lifeless, bloodied body hanging from the mouth of the yellow bear animatronic, and Evan's deformed, bloody head. And everything at the edges of Mike's vision was red. Blood red.

I'm a monster.