WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE SCENES OF BLOOD AND GORE AND CUSS WORDS. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 10 YEARS OF AGE. OR IF YOU DON'T LIKE HORROR. FIRST TO READ: @bmth_is_aswesome (So, follow her pls) Allan dropped his coffee, spilling it all over the counter and himself. Bernard spun around, expecting danger. “Sorry about this.” Allan mumbled. Research. Find. “SHUT UP!” he yelled. The kitchen went quiet. “Um, okay?” Claire said, setting the coffee pot down. She reached into the kitchen cabinet and grabbed a couple of hand towels. She walked over and handed one to Allan. She got down with him and started to clean the mess up. “What’s wrong?” Allan shook his head. “Nothing.” Claire’s mother came walking down the stairs. “Good morning.” she yawned. She glanced and noticed Claire and Allan on the floor. “What happened here?” Bernard waved her over. Allan wiped the floor clean, then sat there on his hands and knees, staring at the floor. Claire tapped him. “Allan.” Allan blinked and sighed. “Yeah, I know.” he stood up, banging the back of his head on the island’s edge. “Ow! Son of a . .” He looked around, seeing everyone staring at him. “Sorry. I’ll head back to the room.” Allan grabbed the hand towel, and made his way towards the bedroom. Allan reached the stairs but felt a hand on his shoulder. TURN AROUND. Allan spun around, falling over the next step, landing right on his side. “ENGH!” Allan felt the pain again. Allan looked up, seeing Bernard. “You’re going to be fine. Just listen to what I tell you.” Allan felt anger growing inside. He smelled the anger, and the fear coming off of Bernard. HE IS AFRAID. Allan felt an unusual force pushing him upwards, making him stand on his feet. He and Bernard were face to face. “Y-yes?” Allan winced. He felt a tear form, and ran down his cheek. He is not evil. Listen. Allan glanced back down into the kitchen, where Claire and her mother watched, eyeing Allan very closely. “Allan. Look at me.” Allan peeled his eyes away from the kitchen. “Y-yeah.?” Bernard patted him on the shoulder. “You need to calm down.” Allan nodded. “O-okay. . .” Allan locked eyes with Bernard. “Listen to me. You need to take a bath. You’re covered in blood.” Allan gasped, looking down. “I don’t see any-” Bernard took his hand off of Allan’s shoulder, showing him the blood. Allan stuttered. “H-how? I-I-I-” Bernard chuckled. “The bed is covered in it. You need to bathe so that way I can take you to the hospital to get you fixed up.” Allan blinked in confusion. “You? Fix me up? how? “ Bernard shook his head. “Never mind that.” Just listen to what I am telling you.” Do as you are told. Allan slammed his fist against the wall in anger. Bernard backed up. “No need to get angry, Allan I’m just-” Allan waved him off. “No!” It’s not you it’s. . .” Allan saw Claire walking up the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asked carefully. Allan looked around in fear. “What’s going on?” Allan asked, glancing back and forth. He felt his head spinning, his heart racing. He felt numb, and his knees went wobbly. “Allan.” he looked up and caught Bernard’s look. “It was caring. Ask to talk alone. Allan regained his posture. “I-I’m okay. . .” Allan grabbed Bernard’s shoulder. “C-can I talk to you for a minute? In private?” Bernard looked surprised. “Well, yes. Follow me.” BErnard walked by Allan, and Allan continued to stare forward. “A-Allan?” Allan broke his stare and glanced at Claire, who stood a couple steps below him. “Are you alright?” Allan opened his mouth to speak, but he found he couldn't. What?! Allan continued to try to talk, but he failed. What is going on?! She. Is. EVIL.
Allan felt his body be yanked backwards, away from Claire. “WOAH!” He yelled. He managed to catch himself before falling again. Claire eyed him. “Let me know when we’re about to go. ‘Kay?” Allan nodded, as that was all he could do. Claire hopped over the railing, landing with a thud, and walked back into the kitchen. “Allan gulped, and walked to where Bernard went. Allan saw a stairway that led up towards what seemed like an attic. Allan gulped. He felt all sweaty, but at the same time cold. He walked carefully towards the stairs, and walked up them. He opened the door at the end of the staircase. “H-hello?” he whispered into the room. “It was dark, mostly because it wasn’t finished. The windows had been boarded up, and the walls a dark brown color. Allan felt of the wall. It was sticky. He wondered if it was because it was just painted, or if it was the humidity. Allan walked in and shut the door. Then, the lights cut on. They blinded him, and Allan shielded his eyes away from them. “Ugh. Bright.” he muttered. “Hello, Allan.” Allan jumped, then looked in front of him. Bernard sat there, in a chair. “Please, sit.” Allan nodded. He pulled up the chair beside him and sat down. Allan sat there for a long while. “Okay, so, I, uh, got something to tell you. And only you. No one else. Okay?” Bernard nodded, then leaned in closer. “I’m listening.” Allan sighed. “Okay, so, last night, we went to Freddy’s. But you already knew that. Didn’t you?” Bernard inhaled sharply. “No, I don’t know-” Allan sat up straight again. “I know you know, Bernard. I don’t know how, but I know. I think. . .” Tell him. Allan rolled his eyes. “I’m hearing something. A voice.” Bernard raised an eyebrow. “A voice?” Allan nodded. “Yes.” Allan felt his pulse quicken. “I don’t know how, though.” Bernard leaned back. “Tell me more on the way to the hospital.” Allan glanced up quickly. “N-no! I can’t!” Bernard eyed him suspiciously. “Why not?” Allan flushed then looked at his feet. “I don’t want her to know about it.” Bernard smiled then exhaled. “Okay. I won’t bother you with it, then. Tell Claire we’re leaving in two hours. That’ll give you enough time to freshen up. Allan sighed then stood up. “Thanks. You got any spare clothes?” Bernard shook his head. “Sadly, no.” I’l get her mother to run to the store and grab some.” Allan looked up, and weakly smiled. “Thanks.” Bernard smiled. “No problem. I’m always happy to help.” Allan stood up. “Well, I guess I better get to showering,” he said, gesturing down to his gashes. “What do I do with these?” Bernard made a “hmm” noise. “Try to keep as much water off of it as you can. We don’t need it getting infected.” Allan nodded. “Alright. Bye.” Allan walked towards the door. “Oh Allan!” Bernard called after him. Allan turned around. “Yeah?” Bernard smiled, a weird, mocking grin. “What’s with you and my daughter?” Allan turned beet red instantly. “What do you mean?” A half hour later. . . Allan sat on the edge of the freshly cleaned bed. He stared at a wall and thought hard. What is going on. . . Allan lay back and watched the ceiling fan. He blinked. He noticed that the air was somewhat still, even with the fan. He felt himself start to drift off, but he fought it. He blinked once more, this time slower. The last thing Allan saw was the ceiling fan, continuing its endless cycle. . .
