Alone and afraid. Just like always. Lost and lonely, left in the endless darkness and silence. Just like always. Just him and a black, black world, both endless and confining. Isolation. Complete and utter solitude. And peace. Darkness and silence. Darkness and peace. Nothing but him and the darkness. Alone together. Silent. Lost. Sad. Hurt. Just like always.

"Can you hear me?" a voice, both off in the distance, and right in his very own mind. Faint and audible. A familiar voice, sweet and kind and gentle. An old friend. He smiles, even though he cannot see.

"I don't know if you can hear me..."

"Yes," he finally whispers back. "I can hear you."

Something fading slowly but steadily into view. Bigger and bigger, clearer and clearer. A small, yellow teddy bear. A purple bow tie and a purple top hat. Piercing white eyes. They see into his soul. They see into his heart and mind. They see him, even when nobody else does. They see him, even when everyone else only sees lies and masks. They see him, even after the rest of the world has forgotten. He smiles.

"I knew you would come back for me, old friend," he whispers, although his lips do not move. The toy continues to fade into view, growing bigger and bigger, clearer and clearer. It floats out from the depths of the shadows and right into his arms. He cannot see his arms, but he can feel the bear resting safely inside them. Or is he resting safely inside the bear? Tears, warm and wet, running down his face. Just like always. Alone and afraid. Just like always. Left lost and alone in the darkness, locked away from the rest of the world, forgotten, unloved, unwanted, unseen. Just like always. It is cold. He hugs the bear closer. Or does the bear hug him? Just like always.

"I'm sorry," another mysterious voice. The same as the last time, but different somehow. Another bodiless whisper, ghosting through the eternal planes of darkness and through the eternal planes of his tortured, tormented mind and soul. But another familiar voice. An old friend. An old ghost. An unanswered prayer. An unsettled score. An unpaid debt. An untaken revenge... An unavenged death. But not an unrepentant sin. Perhaps.

"You, I know you. Voice, mysterious voice, I know you," he thinks, or does he whisper?

Voice. He hears a voice. But whose voice? Is it the father? Who ignored? The brother? Who abused? The guardian? Who failed to protect? The boy himself? Who failed to live? A voice. But whose? Drifting through the ether. The only thing that grounds him in this world, this life, this reality is the warmth in his arms. Nothing above his head, nothing below his feet. Nothing, except in his arms, and something faint within his heart.

"You're broken," says the voice. It is not a question, nor an apology, but simply a statement. A cold, hard fact.

"I am," he answers, just as expressionlessly. It was a voice from above and below that told him so. The bear clutched to his chest, clutching at his chest, told him so. So did the men far above him.

"Broken," he says. "I am broken."

He accepts the fact easily enough. But why not? It is the only truth he has ever known. Who else finds company in the very things that they fear? Who else finds friendship in their own enemies? Who else finds angels in their own demons? Who else clings to life using the very things that kill them slowly, piece by piece and night by night, until there is nothing left except nothingness itself.
"We are still your friends," as if on cue, the voice pressed against his heart, the one deep inside, speaks, the same as the voice speaking above and around. He smiles again. He nods. He knows. He knows. He has always known. They have always been friends. They have been his only friends. The pain and suffering and grief has always been his best and only friend. It is like an old friend. He should try to grow up and leave them behind, but he cannot, for he is not strong enough to leave behind his closest, oldest, dearest companions.

His closest and most constant companions, his worst and most volatile enemies. His sweetest, kindest, gentlest dreams, his worst nightmares. His hated and sworn phobia, his one and only counselors and advisors. The bane of his existence, his only comforters and guardians. He is his own worst enemy and worst nightmare. He is his only friend and savior. No one else. Nothing else. Just him. And the endless blackness. The everlasting, eternal darkness. Just him and nothing. Just like always.

He must be insane. The hive mind in his head and the hive mind all around. Who else cradles their demons as angels? Nightmares as dreams? Friends as enemies? How can his only source of joy and safety be his greatest source of fear and misery? How can he be so afraid of the one and only thing he feels safe around? They are little, now. Sweet, harmless little plushies. Cold, hard, metal skin is gone. Razor sharp teeth are gone. Glowing, hateful, hungry eyes are gone. Nothing but warmth and trust remains. Solitude and friendship from the very things that drove him into the darkness. His light, his one source of bravery in a very lonely, very scary world. Small. They are so small. Just like him. Weak and helpless. Alone. This darkness still wasn't as black as the bruises on his very heart and mind and soul. His biggest fear was his greatest addiction.

"Do you still believe that?"

"Yes. Of course I do. Who else do I have? Except you. My oldest, closest, dearest and most constant of companions. I will not leave you, because I am too afraid to. You are always there. In the corners of my mind. You are big and small. You are scary and you are mine. My pain, my love. I cannot part with that. I cannot part with you. I won't. I should. I shouldn't. I won't."

"I'm still here."

"I know you are. You always are. You always were. And you always will be. Because you come back. You will always come back. And so will I. Because I cannot leave. Nor can you. I am too afraid to. I don't want to. This is all I have, and all I have ever known. And this is all you have ever known as well. You and I. Endless agony and love combined. You are my supporter and advocate. You put me in this darkness to show me your light. You put me in this darkness to save me from myself. You put me in this darkness to protect me from the flames. I know. I know."

Alone and afraid, he sits. Just like always, he sits. Lost and lonely, left in the endless darkness and silence, he sits. Just like always. Just him and a black, black world, both endless and confining. Isolation. Complete and utter solitude. And peace. Darkness and silence. Darkness and peace. Nothing but him and the darkness. Alone together. Silent. Lost. Sad. Hurt. Just like always. A closet. A bed. A spare room. A nightmare.

"You're broken. We are still your friends. Do you still believe that? I'm still here.

And I will put you back together."

The bear clutching his chest. He holds it tight. He can feel it. It is cold. It sits heavily in his arms. There is nothing inside anymore. Nothing in his chest. But there is something outside. A gentle, monotonous beep, and the darkness closing in all around him, cold and metallic.

"And I will put you back together."

Then the lights turn back on. Two bright white lights, peering out of a bright golden mask.

And I will put you back together...

AN: Random, literally senseless and plotless drabble about the Kid in FNAF 4. IDK why I wrote this. I just did. Sorry if it isn't very good. But special shout outs to TigerCat111, Darkgamer FNAF, GoldenFazbearGreen, NoirAngelo11, Dardmulzombie for being my most constant and loyal fans back in my FNAF days. All of you guys are amazing! (Sorry for the random sentimentality. IDK what's up with me today, LOL. First weird fanfics, now nostalgic shout outs!)