A light flickered on and off.

Hurried, nervous footsteps ran across the room.

Breaths came in gasps.

The little boy couldn't hold it much longer, every night was the same. Since that day, that horrid day in which he died at the hands of what he thought was his brother and his poor excuses for friends, he lived a terrifying nightmare from which he'd never escape unless he died there. The deceased kid was alive in his very own afterlife, it was as real as he used to be, but he had nowhere to go other than exploring what lied to be his house, which was only a mix between his bedroom and the hospital and nothing else. Monsters lurked the empty halls in vicious attempts to get him, creatures that lied to be those friendly animatronics that everyone loved.

Everyone but the little Ryan.

He truly preferred to live the rest of his life being constantly bullied by his brother rather than repeating a deadly routine every night. His nights never ended, it was dark after dark, it'd never cease. If the child died in his dream, he'd disappear out of existence. He'd never open his eyes again, he'd feel nothing. He'd vanish completely. And he was aware of it.

Ryan was panting as he reached for the right door's golden knob. He was sweating, his legs were hurt of running from left to right, back and forth, and he had been doing that for the past week. Ryan stared at the unnerving darkness that engulfed the corridors. A deep, warm huff of air waved his auburn hair, causing his reflexes to snap and close the door shut. Ryan closed his eyes as well, waiting for the monster outside to leave. It was probably the millionth time it happened. Low footsteps left the door, and Ryan just took a brief second to let go of the knob and flash the light at his bed, seeing how two Fredlets had already gotten up, twitching and calling for their complete version. The white light reflected on their glowing eyes, and they immediately vanished down the bed.

Quick running caught the kid's ears, making him gasp. His closet creaked, and for when he turned around, one of the doors moved. Almost tripping over for being so tired, to the point of barely being able to breathe, Ryan walked towards the closet and closed it right ahead; he didn't bother to flash the light yet, otherwise he would only catch glimpse of a monstrous fox snapping his gaping jaws at his face. He already knew how many time had he to wait until the beast became a simple, harmless plushie, and for when that time reached its end, the boy let go of the closet and moved to the left door. Much to his delight, nothing was there to greet him, leaving him the opportunity to shine the hall. Empty, what a relief. Ryan took a moment to sit in front of the bedroom, his hand clutching his grey shirt as he gasped to breathe. He knew he couldn't idle for longer though, the Nightmares were trying to tire him out to find the perfect moment to end what was left of his life.

His legs refused to respond, but Ryan did a great effort to get back on his feet and check the right door. Nothing in front of him, but the flashlight revealed the figure of Nightmare Chica staring at him with her only good eye, before trailing off around the corner, keeping her treacherous sight on the boy all the time. Ryan left the door as soon as possible and went to the closet. If he kept Nightmare Foxy unchecked for too long, his gleaming teeth would be the last things he'd ever see. He closed the door, waited impatiently, and realized it was about time to leave the fox and check on the Fredlets before their calls awakened the much larger Freddy. All three of them were up on the bed, but Ryan could tell the third and last one just jumped in as it left sooner than usual, the other two following.

The boy's legs weren't hurting, but aching. He felt like collapsing if he made another move. He knew what would happen if he gave up, and say that he was only frightened was an understatement. The Nightmares weren't precisely swift killers. It was in their nature to literally scare their victims to death as they mauled them with their pointed teeth and tore their flesh with their razor-sharp claws.

And then, his nightmare became a dreamland. The alarm clock screamed 6 AM, making Ryan limp down on the soft blue carpet with a long, pained sigh. He breathed heavily, staring at the flashlight on his slumbering hand. He had in mind how time would soon turn to 12 AM again, however, but he paid no attention. It was better to enjoy his moment of peace while it lasted.

Ryan started to realize how unfair everything was. How unfair his life was. He was just a normal nine year old whose life was ruined by a bully brother. He hadn't done anything wrong, nor that he would ever want to, but his short life was lived like he was in Hell. He was constantly scared by his brother, laughed at by the older kids in the town, given mocking glares and comments by the children that lived around him, and finally, killed by his own blood during a 'harmless' prank. And to put the icing on the cake, he had to spend his afterlife being chased by monsters with death written all over them as if it was a punishment.

Thinking of all that caused tears to roll down Ryan's cheeks. He didn't deserve anything like that. He was a charm. He was a sweetheart. And everything… everything was because of his brother. I'm sorry. It was the last thing Ryan heard from him, but he didn't accept the useless apology. What was it going to fix anyways? Ryan's hand holding the flashlight curled into a fist as he reminded himself how miserable his life was.

He slowly got up to his feet. He had about the exact time to get out of the bedroom and reunite with Plushtrap before the Nightmares returned. He didn't turn on the flashlight, just in case, but he really didn't need to anyways; after so long, he knew the walk towards Plushtrap's corridor by memory. He lightly sat down, legs crossed. For a moment, Ryan became entranced with the sound of the wind outside. He watched the shadowy tree's leaves flow gently. By far, it was the most beautiful sight on his own little world.

He flashed the light at the cue of feet stepping on the floor. Plushtrap quickly sprang up on the chair, acting as if nothing happened, grinning widely and staring lifelessly at the boy, who turned off the flashlight and waited. He felt a whole lot more comfortable around Plushtrap than around the Nightmares. In fact, he would stay there forever if it wasn't for the fact that Plushtrap wanted time of its own. At least the plush wouldn't kill him, but then there was the downside – Plushtrap wanted its game to be played correctly, it would hurt him if it didn't go the way it wanted to. Ryan had already gotten a few scars from Plushtrap's teeth connecting with his arms and legs. Thanks God they weren't as sharp and deadly as the Nightmares', otherwise Ryan would've been limbless by now.

The rattling of feet awakened the kid's attention. When the flashlight illuminated the hall, Plushtrap's mocking face vanished into the far right doorway. The game got serious. Ryan had to stop the living plushie on the X. It was that over losing his chance to pass time or getting angrily bitten by an annoyed Plushtrap. He waited for more noises. The golden stuffed toy was unpredictable. One night it could go fast as a blur, another night it could go as slow as a wandering snail. That thing sure was mischievous and tricky.

Ryan flashed the light. He caught Plushtrap in front of its chair, where it let its body limp down to a sitting position with a quiet thud, its mouth wide open. Ryan was getting nervous. It was a guessing game in which he'd have to ponder about if he would succeed, fail or get hurt. As silence took over the hallway, the boy closed his eyes, thinking about everything that had been going on during his life. He tended to do that a lot.

He snapped out of his thoughts as Plushtrap restarted his race, hiding within the left and closest doorway. Now it was the decisive moment. Ryan had to flash the light at the exact moment. He kept telling to himself that he'd win no matter what, or at least fail by that matter. He wasn't in the mood to get struck by something that equaled a rabid dog's attack. His muscles tensed, his ears waited for footsteps. His blue eyes narrowed with reliance, he knew he could do it.

And so it was.

His nervous finger clicked the flashlight's button, catching Plushtrap right on the X. Ryan restrained from giving a victorious jump and instead stood up with an attempt of a content smirk. "Better luck next time." he muttered to the lifeless plushie, walking back to his bedroom, letting a scared huff escape his gritted teeth. Each time he entered after having had fun with Plushtrap was like entering through a doorway to his fate, in which the lone options were live or die. And he wasn't the one choosing.