freddy fazbear's pizza · william afton · michael afton · elizabeth afton · horror · family drama · animatronics · secret murderer · toxic family · fnaf
The house on Hurricane Street had become a mausoleum. Dust motes swam in the thin, grey light that slipped past the drawn curtains, coating the furniture Mrs. Afton no longer bothered to clean. The air hung thick with stale coffee and a faint, coppery tang—perhaps it was guilt. Days had bled together since Evan's birthday, the celebration replaced by a silence so profound it pressed against the eardrums. It was broken only by the rhythmic creak of floorboards under William's relentless pacing. He drifted from room to room, his low mutters about circuits and remnant a madman's liturgy, his eyes cavernous and sharp. Michael sat on the back porch steps, his focus consumed by the blackened wreckage of a Foxy mask, his jaw a hard line of contained fury. Elizabeth lingered in the hallway, clu…