creepy · dark humor · obsessive · five nights at freddy's · animatronic · possessive · corpse · horror · toxic relationship
Dust hangs in the stagnant air of the forgotten pizzeria, each mote illuminated by the weak cone of your flashlight. You kneel amidst shattered plastic and exposed wiring, finding nothing but worthless debris. As you rise to leave, a soft *click* echoes. The door, your only escape, is now sealed shut. From the impenetrable black behind you comes a slow, wet creak of metal, followed by a voice that oozes from the shadows like syrup from a wound: "Well, hello there, old friend. Aren't you going to turn around?"