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William awoke to the sound of his bedroom door opening, causing him to turn over with a grumble.
“Dad?” A small, raspy voice peeped shyly, sounding on the brink of tears. William groaned, covering himself with his silky, velvet purple blanket. “Not now, kid, I have work tomorrow.” He mumbled in a frustrated tone, half asleep and on autopilot. His lack of sleep was really getting to him. “Dad, I had a nightmare.” The boy pleaded to him. William groaned with frustration and tiredness and turned over, forcing his eyes open with a squint. Nothing really came into sight for the man, as he couldn't comprehend the shapes and colors that blinded him.
“Can't you talk to Michael?” He asked, moving his head up a little. “He told me to go to you.” The voice mumbled shyly. William sat up with a yawn and looked over at the boy. William recognized him as Evan, with those black eyes of his red from crying, and the black hair that covered most of the boy's face, and that yellow bear he always carried around with him.
“I had a nightmare that I died.” The boy sniffled, tearing up. William frowned with a look of sympathy. “Oh, honey…” He patted the boy's little head. “I'm scared.” Evan stuttered. William tapped on the bed to gesture to the boy to get up. Evan out stretched his arms and William lifted him up, knowing the bed was far too tall for such a little one to be able to climb up.
Evan snuggled up close to him, shaking like a leaf. William gave him a kiss on his forehead, trying to assure the boy. Evan sniffled as he looked up at the man. “What's death like?” He asked. William opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. The hell would he know? He never died before. And he wouldn't want to, either. He was terribly afraid at just the thought. But he didn't want to instill that fear in his son. The fear of death was a fear painful to live with. He wouldn't wish that on his children. Not in the slightest.
William thought for a bit, gathering the right words. He had to think of something, for Evan’s sake. He brought Evan closer to himself, holding the boy lovingly. “Death is- death is a lot like sleeping. A long, dreamless sleep.” He began, speaking softly and capturing the boy's attention. “One you won't wake up from. There won't be breakfast waiting for you and you won't open your eyes to see me waking you up.”
“You won't be scared anymore, you won't cry, you won't smile. You'll just be.” He stroked Evan's silky black hair, removing them from his eyes. “No one is there with you. But you won't feel lonely. It'll be peaceful. It'll be calming. And you won't have to worry.” William smiled softly. He did not believe a word he said. But it was clear Evan did. And so, the father continued. “You won't hurt anymore. It'll only hurt for a little while before you go to sleep. Death will treat you with kindness and take your pain away. Life will hurt, but death will be kind.”
Evan sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye. “Will Fredbear be with me when I die?” He asked. William chuckled with a soft smile on his tired face. “Maybe Fredbear will be an exception.” He grinned. Evan smiled and rested his head on William’s chest.
That smile slowly went away as the boy looked up at his father once more. “Will mom ever wake up?” He asked. William went silent, fighting the negativity within him. He shook his head. “No sweetie, she's- she's not. She's gonna stay asleep for a long, long time.” He spoke in a broken voice, clearing his throat. Evan looked off to the side, hugging his father. “I hope death is nice.” He mumbled. William nodded. “I hope so too, kid.”
***
William, now rotting away in a musty old suit inside a forgotten storage room, laid in pure agony in a corner. Silent, pained sobs could be heard in a muffled sound. A single blackened tear ran down his now plastic eye. He twitched and spasmed, barely able to breathe his raspy, painful breaths. He didn't deserve this. He wanted nothing more to die right now. Was he even alive? Was death painful like he feared it was? How could he do this to him. William really thought he had a friend. He was supposed to be his friend. How could he betray him like that?
William really did lie to himself. About death. About his friend. About it all. “We're going to make it out of this” he told himself. Oh, what a lie. He was stupid to believe it. His wife was dead, his children were dead. And now? Now he was dead, too. A dead man breathing. And Henry? Doing something he didn't deserve; Living. All while Henry's child was dead too. William loved Henry's family. How could Henry do that? How could he get rid of his own child? How could he how could he how could he? William kept asking that same question in his head over and over again.
William was such a liar. He really, really thought he could make it. He thought he could be happy. Now all that he knew was gone.
He wish he was home. He wanted to go home. He replayed memories in his head over and over again. He missed his family. He wanted nothing more but to see his children one more time.
His sobbing grew louder, as he shook with agony and sorry. He tried to say something, anything. But it all only came out in pained gurgles, almost indecipherable.
He wanted to go home.
All of what he said about death was a lie, and he let himself believe it.