Michael laughed as he tossed his little brother at the golden animatronics. He reasoned in his head that he wasn't being cruel, a bit of teasing never hurt. Besides, Jerome always was far too scared of those harmless robots. Always muttering about some sort of incident, even though their father insisted nothing had happened. Suddenly, one by one, his friends stopped laughing. Mike looked up, just in time to watch his brother get crushed by the bear's gaping maw.

"Hey, I'm not getting tricked that easily! Get out of there, I know you're faking it!" Mike laughed. Jerome didn't move. "Hey, come on, you're really starting to scare me..." No answer. "J-Jerome?" The brown-haired body hung limply from the bear jaws. Mike moved closer to the stage, stopping in shock. Closer up, the puddle of blood dripping from Fredbear's mouth was obvious, as was the chunk of flesh, bone and brain that had fallen from the young boys head. That was part of the young boys head. Was. Michael's own brain spiralled, spinning it's way from one statement to the other. I killed him. Jerome's dead. Maybe he's still alive. If he is alive, he won't be the same. Either way, that's part of his skull on the floor.

He flashed through the sequence of events, attempting to reach any sort of conclusion that didn't leave a pit in his stomach or a doubting scream in his head. I threw him up there, his head got bitten into, there's blood and brain everywhere, I threw him up there I threw him up there I THREW HIM UP THERE I KILLED HIM I KILLED HIM I KILLED HIM- Mike fell to his knees, threw up, and blacked out.

He woke up in his bed at home. His father stood angrily over him. Oh no. It was never a good sign when William stood angrily over you, and it was far, far worse of a sign when you had just murdered his son. Mike noted that his father looked as if he was about to throttle him, which was concerning since it usually looked more like he was a few seconds away from throttling him. "Hi dad..." He muttered. "Michael." William seethed. "Are you aware of the fucking PR nightmare this has been? Do you know how difficult it is to cover up your own son being nearly crushed to death by the mascot of your restaurant!?"

Mike was overjoyed by this last comment. "Nearly? So he's still alive?" William matched his fury with a strong grimace. "Barely, no thanks to you. He's in his room sleeping. Frontal lobe was bitten off. The only reason why I haven't fucking murdered you yet is that my reputation would go to shit." Mike knew that he wasn't kidding. "Just stay the fuck away from anyone who tries to get information out of you. I managed to pass your little fucking stunt off as a rumour, but the second a newspaper gets wind of this shit- Let's just say that you won't get off as easily. Got it?"

William leaned into his face, and Mike could smell the familiar scent of beer from the local bar. "Y-yeah. I've got it." Mike whispered, not only because he was scared out of his mind, but because he didn't want to open his mouth and taste the alcohol on his father's breath. "Good. Now, stay away from Jerome, I don't want you hurting him any more than you already have." William stood up and left the room. "Monster." He muttered as he walked out of sight.

Mike knew his father was a terrible person, but something inside him wanted to cry at that last statement. Not because he had trusted his father to like him, god no, that facade had been dropped around the time Jerome was born- but instead, the fact that he knew it was true. How could anyone see it otherwise? He was a terrible person. The second he had noticed his father's hatred for him, Mike had taken to scaring Jerome at every opportunity, hoping that one day he'd break, and William would have no choice but to appreciate Mike. Well, Jerome had broken, he'd broken his head in half, and now William hated him more than ever. Great going Mike, you've nearly murdered your brother and William wants to kill you. Want to finish Jerome off and see how much your dad can take before you die? Mike sighed, rolled over, and went back to sleep.