"This whole town is weird," Terry said when I asked him about weird things going on. "Kids are dying at pizza restaurants left and right, robots are becoming sentient, and I'm not even sure how you're alive after being dead for nine months. But hey, you're here, and everything's back to normal."

"Mom and Dad don't think so," I refuted.

"Well Mom and Dad are crybabies who can't deal with change," Terry shot back. "Mom was just getting over your... 'death,' and all of a sudden you're alive again. Like, no shit she's losing her mind. And the funny thing is, Dad seems completely fine about all of this! Like, Jesus Christ! He was a MESS over Liz, and he's completely fine! Which would probably confuse anyone who knew him."

"Why?"

"Like I said, he's a crybaby. Both of them are."

"And you're not?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Terry responded confidently. "You know why?" I was about to answer, but he kept talking. "I'll tell you why. I'm a teenager. I'm completely devoid of feelings and compassion, and since I killed you, I have taken it upon myself to ignore any feelings I might have."

"You were being nice yesterday-"

"Well you just woke up and I wanted to get you back to reality. Now get out of my room."

I left the room and heard Terry slam the door behind me. Okay then. Emotionless brother, overly emotional parents, dead sister. What a life I have to look forward to.

I didn't really sleep last night. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened at Freddy's, and why Chica started freaking out.Why I saw dead kids, why I saw my sister I don't know, why everyone is acting like this is normal.

Once I got done thinking about that, another disembodied voice started singing to me. And it couldn't have been someone in another room, because the voice was right in my ear. A lot of times I would be drifting off, then hear the voice, and jump up to see where it was coming from.

Just more dead people, I figured.

I finally did get to sleep, but woke up to light streaming through my window. The clock said it was 7:48. I strolled over to the calendar and picked up a marker to complete my first morning task: I circled the date, and at night, I would put an X through it. Terry said that's always what he did.

Anyway, with me being kicked out of my brother's room, I went to go look for something to do. Mom said Dad was at work, and to leave her alone. We don't have any pets or some other living thing in the house, so I was by myself.

I went back to my room and found myself by the window. I tried to open it, but it looked like it was sealed shut. I started to get somewhat claustrophobic. I don't even know why. I kept trying to open the window, when finally, with a suction sound and a rip, the window flew open, and I was hit with the feeling of spring air.

I leaned out the window to take it in, and realized just how stuffy my room was. Terry said something about air conditioning; I guess there wasn't any in my room. Or it was off. Come to think of it, I didn't see any vents. Wonder why.

From my window, I looked around the neighborhood, and saw houses, kids playing, and even a cemetery off in the distance. Maybe... no one will mind if I go over there for a while...

I looked at the clock again and saw it was 10:27. Yeah. I'll have enough time.

I hopped out the window(and figured I could easily climb back in), and made my way to the cemetery.

Wow. There are a lot of dead people around here.

I strolled around, looking for anyone I knew, or was told I knew. There wasn't a lot I recognised.

And the deeper in I went, the newer the graves looked. I then saw a grave sitting by itself, with a cross buried in the ground next to it.

I went over to go see it, because what kind of grave is just alone? I made my way over and knelt down to read what was on the grave first.

Elizabeth Afton. 1977-1982. Beloved Daughter.

All of a sudden I got really excited. Someone I used to know! No more memories came back to me, though.

I glanced over at the cross and almost fainted when I read what was on it.

Michael Afton. 1972-1983.

Nothing else. No wonder everyone thinks I'm dead. I am dead. I'm not sure why I'm sharing a grave with my sister, though. But if I'm really dead, and I really Michael? Am I really who I think I am?

I ripped the cross out of the ground and ran back to the house, swung open the front door, and almost pounded on the door of Mom's room, before deciding not to. She wasn't the one I needed an explanation from.

I hid the cross under my bed and decided to go find Dad. Wherever he was. Where was he? Work? Where does he work?

I went back to Terry's room and knocked on the door again.

"Where does Dad work?" I asked as soon as he opened it.

"Freddy's."

"The one we went to?"

"Yeah. Don't bother him."

All that did was make me want to bother him more. But the last thing I wanted to do right now is go to Freddy's, especially considering what happened just yesterday. So I decided to wait. And God, how much I decided I hated waiting. Sure, there are things to do while you wait, but I'm not familiar with much and all I've been wanting to do lately is get my memory back or at least figure out what's going on here.

But all I did was sit by the window and watch some clouds drift across the sky. It was all I felt like doing. But during that time, I heard more singing. Once again from the disembodied voice of a dead child. I couldn't tell if it was Rachel, my sister, or anyone else, so I just sat and listened. They weren't half bad.

Finally, finally, after waiting for what felt like days, I saw a purple car pull up to the driveway. Dad stepped out, and I dug the cross back up and ran to the entryway.

"Dad, what's this!?" I shouted, shoving the cross in his face. He leapt back and almost fell over, but recovered and took the cross from me.

"Where did you find this?" He asked, just as confused as I was.

"At the cemetery," I said. "By Liz's."

"The cemetery?"

"Yeah. It was buried in the ground by Liz's grave, and I thought you said I wasn't dead." Dad looked at the cross closer.

"I'll ask your mom," He said as she pushed me aside to go to his room.

Well, that answered nothing. So much for that idea.

I went back to my room and flopped over on my bed. Everyone in this house seemed less than willing to tell me what's going on here.

"Hey dead people!" I cried into the emptiness of my room. "What's going on? Since everyone in my family won't say anything!" I stayed quiet for a minute, but all that came to me was whispers of you aren't you over and over.

I sighed, but the whispers weren't threatening in any way, so I let myself be lulled to sleep by them.

That was a mistake, because I woke up again, and six kids were standing over me. Five had no masks. Four girls. A boy. A puppet. Their eyes were black with a small colored dot where their pupils should be.

I sprung up and looked around at where I was. Freddy's.

"What am I doing here?" I cried, turning to the kids. They were quiet. Then they started laughing.

"No, seriously! What's going on?" I insisted. One girl with long brown hair and a pink sweater grabbed my shoulders and pulled herself closer to me, as well as wrapping her arms around my neck and still laughing. Which turned to crying.

I was uncomfortable. I didn't know what to do. I looked to the others who had started to hug around me as well. I let it happen, but I had to pull off after a minute.

"What's going on?" I asked, more calm this time.

"Michael, you're home," The girl in the pink sweater said while wiping away tears. "You're with us again."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, you're one of us," A plump girl with long blonde hair explained. "Your soul is in a robot. Do you remember us?" I shook my head. The kid in the puppet mask seemed to squint at me, then left.

"Who's that?" I asked no one in particular.

"We're not sure," Another blonde girl said. Rachel. "We're not even sure if it's a girl or a boy."

"She's a girl," The only other boy in the room said. "I've heard her sing. To the music box. We don't know her name, though, so I just call her Mary. Like, short for marionette." These people. They're... just talking like they've known me forever. I'm not even sure who most of them are.

"Uh, Michael," Rachel said, looking behind me with wide eyes.

I tried to turn, but had hands thrown over my eyes and mouth, thrown to the ground, and once again, a mass of spirits were screaming my name. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I shouted as I sprang up, back in reality, and had to lay back down and regain my breath. What just happened? What was that?

"Good morning," I heard Terry sarcastically say from the doorway. I sat back up.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. Terry shrugged.

"You were screaming and thrashing around, and that triggered some kind of flashback, and I had to check on you."

"What do you mean?"

"After Liz died, you had a bunch of really bad nightmares," Terry started. "And you'd scream, and I'd wake up, and you died, and sometimes I'd still wake up, thinking you're still here." Terry stopped and took a breath. "Looks like you are still the same." Terry left, while I stayed in bed, nodding.

I noticed it was light out. It was probably the next day. You're one of us... what did she mean by-

"Terry, wait!" I cried, leaping out of bed. It took me a second to chase him down, but I was out of breath by then.

"What?"

"I... I had a dream... and I saw the kids... they said something..." I tried to catch my breath, but I had to lean on the wall. "Hold on..."

"Again, what?"

I took a breath and tried to finish what I was saying.

"I had a dream where I was back at Freddy's, and all the kids that were killed were there and they all knew my name and they said I... I was home, and that I'm one of them. Do you know what they meant by that?"

"That you're dead?"

"But I'm not?" I shot back. "Or am I? At Liz's grave, there was a cross that said my name and when I died-"

"Oh yeah, Mom put that there," Terry interrupted. "So Mom thought you died, and Dad swore up and down that you were alive and the doctors were just... not experienced enough to save you. And then he spent almost a whole year in the basement 'saving' you. Mom already gave up and accepted that you were dead. Then the other day, you were just back in bed. Mom still isn't convinced."

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't know," Terry responded. "She has every reason to think that... you aren't you. Your eyes, your memory wipe, the fact that your brain was literally crushed... I don't know. Ask Dad."

"I tried, but he just took the cross and slammed the door in my face."

"You probably shouldn't have shown that to him," Terry advised. "Do you think it's back at the cemetery?"

"I'm not sure. He just took it to his room."

"Okay," Terry said. "Okay. Do you want it back?"

"Not really," I answered. "I just wanted to know why it's there. I can go put it back if you want."

"Mom probably wants it put back," Terry said. "Just ask her for it."

I followed Terry's instructions and knocked on our parent's bedroom door. Mom opened it.

"Good morning, Michael," she said. "Do you need something?"

"Uh, yeah," I responded. "Can I have the cross back?"

"The... oh. Dad put it back this morning. Did you want to see it?"

"Kind of, yes."

"Okay, well it's at the cemetery," Mom said before closing the door.

"Are we going back?" I asked, turning to Terry.

"Sure, why not."