Terry made me go get dressed before he brought me back to the cemetery, and he also promised he'd show me the graves of the kids that were killed.

Charlie(and my sister). 1977-1982. They were only 5...

Rachel: 1971-1982. 11.

Ashley, Kendal(and me): 1972-1983. 11.

Bonnie: 1974-1983. 9.

Cassidy: 1975-1983. 8.

"Why did all of this happen in the same years?" I asked while Terry and I sat at Liz's grave where my cross was carelessly shoved back into the ground.

"I'm actually really not sure," Terry responded. "It started when Rachel went missing at Freddy's. Then there was Charlie, who was killed outside of the restaurant.... Then sometime in July, a new Freddy's location opened, and Liz was killed by a robot there in November. There hadn't been any incidents until just last June, where in a few months, Ashley, Kendal, Bonnie, and Cassidy all went missing. And then in August, you died."

"Oh, wow," I gasped.

"Yeah, the town was pretty freaked out over all of this," Terry laughed. Then he got serious again. "Kids went missing all summer, a suspect was actually caught, but he... all he'd cry was innocence. Some say he's facing death row. Pretty freaky." I nodded slowly. "Some people are trying to get him out, saying he's innocent."

"Who do they think it was then?" I asked. Terry pursed his lips, looking forward.

"They think it was our dad," He whispered.

"Dad?" I cried.

"Shh!" Terry urged, trying to keep me quiet. "Yes, and... it's complicated. Some people say that he was nowhere to be found when the kids were missing as well. It's all a bunch of speculation, but Freddy's has been going a little downhill since then. Heh."

"Does it bother Dad at all?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm sure," Terry responded. "If people are coming out left and right accusing you of murder, and your business is going down the drain because of it... Man, I don't know."

We sat together in silence at our sister's grave for a while longer, before the sun was getting higher in the sky and it started getting a little too hot.

"Uhg, let's go home," Terry said, getting up and stretching. "It's too hot for this shit, Jesus, this place is depressing."

I got up as well and followed Terry home, and had a chance to take in just how hot it was. The five minute walk back to our house felt like so much longer than it should've. You could almost hear the heat rising off the sidewalk. Maybe I was just hallucinating again. It seemed to be happening more often than not. I'm not even sure what's real or not anymore.

"It's not even that late, is it?" I heard Terry ask himself. I shrugged, even though he couldn't see me. I was starting to somewhat enjoy Terry's company, and thought about asking him to help me figure out what was going on even more. But I then thought he'd just stop talking about it, or tell Dad and get me in trouble.

After returning home, Terry left to his room, refusing to say anything else. I went back to my room as well, thinking over whether or not to ask him about this.

While waiting, I brought all the plushies that were on my floor to my bed, and set them across from me. I wonder if they're going to talk to me again. Or do I have to talk to them first?

"Hello?" I asked. "Guys, it's Michael. Who are you?"

"You know us," Was echoed for a long time. I honestly wasn't expecting a response, but this wasn't one I wanted. It meant nothing.

"No," I answered into the echo. "I don't."

"You're one of us," Replaced what had been being said before. I sighed in exasperation. Talking to spirits has proven itself to be a thankless task. They're like a squeeze toy that can only say one thing.

I bit the bullet and decided to go to Terry. I left my room to go to his, but was stopped in the hallway.

"Michael?"

I turned to see Mom, who must've been crossing into the kitchen when she saw me.

"Hey," I said, trying to avoid some kind of conversation.

"Michael, are you doing alright?" Mom asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I dismissed.

"Oh," Mom sighed. "You just seem so distant."

You people are the distant ones, I screamed in my head. But I just shrugged and went back to what I was doing.

"Michael, can't you spend three minute with me?" Mom asked, clearly hurt. I turned back to her. "You've been gone for almost a year, with your Dad in the basement all day and your brother at school, it's like I don't have a lot of family around here anymore." I thought about ignoring her and going back to Terry,but I pursued my lips and groaned under my breath.

Mom honestly looked somewhat helpless, half awake and just wanting time with her family.

"I... have to do something with Terry right now," I finally said.

"Like what?" Mom asked.

"I just need his help with trying to jog my memory," I responded.

"Can I help?" Mom begged. "I've been by your side since you were born, I'm sure that I can-"

"Mom, that is bullshit and you know it," Terry said, all of a sudden behind me. How long has he been standing there? "You flat out ignored him, to the point where Dad had to take weeks off of work to take care of him."

"No I did not!" Mom hissed through her teeth.

"Oh! And if I could remember correctly you were always locked up in your room as soon as Dad left for work, and then a six year old was left to take care of his newborn brother!" I raised my eyebrows and turned to Terry. Was this all true?

"I couldn't help it!" Mom cried.

"Blame it on whatever you want, I blame you for literally everything that was wrong with Michael."

"What was wrong with me?" I asked, adding another voice to the argument.

"Right," Mom added, "But you bullied and harassed and killed him, and you're now trying to manipulate him in an attempt to win his trust!"

"You don't seem to be doing any better!" Terry cried.

"What happened to me?" I cried. I really wanted to know. I was neglected? Bullied?

"You're fine, Michael!" Mom shouted back. "Your brother just-"

"Didn't neglect you as a baby!" Terry retaliated, before taking my arm and pulling me into his room and locking the door.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it," Terry said. "Your life was not in the best hands when you were a baby."

"Oh..."

"So, did you need me for something?"

"Oh, yes!" I remembered. "I wanted to ask if you could help me figure out the past. As well as what I don't know about who I am or what's going on with my friends and Liz and everything."

"Yeah?" Terry asked. I nodded. "Well what's your plan?" I was about to talk, but stopped short. I didn't exactly have a plan.

"Help me remember what happened before I was killed," I said. "After that, maybe we can get some answers out of Dad or something." Terry raised an eyebrow.

"That seems a little dangerous," He refuted. "Let's do it." I almost leaped up in the air out of excitement. "Alright, you chill out. I can set aside a day or something to tell you all about your life. That okay?"

"Yes!" I cried. "It's perfect! Thank you!" I leapt up to hug Terry, but he pushed me off of him quite quickly. "Sorry," I muttered. Terry waved it off. "Can you tell me everything now?"

"Yeah, but not in this house," Terry responded. "It feels like I'd be telling you things Mom and Dad don't want you to know, and it also feels like there are security cameras everywhere here, and Mom also might pop up to tell a twisted version of the story."

"Can we go back to the cemetery?" I asked.

"You really like that place, don't you?"

"Sort of," I laughed. "It's almost like there's something there I do remember."

"Well that's nice. We can go later this afternoon, if you want."

"That's great! Thank you!" I wanted to give Terry another hug, but I didn't and rushed back to my room.

I squealed in joy and lept up back to my bed.

"Did you guys hear that?" I asked the spirits. "Terry's gonna help me! Since none of you will!"

"You think he'll help you?" A voice answered back. This is one of the first things I've heard that isn't repetitive banter. I thought I heard the voice before, but I couldn't place it.

"Yes?" I called back. "He hasn't done anything bad to me!"

"He hurt you." Rang through the room, being said by more voices. I groaned and sunk lower into my bed.

"I don't remember that," I mumbled.

"He hurt us." 'You' was slowly replaced with 'us,' which made me more confused.

"Terry killed you?" I asked. No answer other than the things they had said a million times before.

"You really trust him?" A separate voice asked. This one seemed to be right in my ear, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. I leapt up in surprise, but there was no one there.

"Yes," I said. "I really trust him."

"Poor idea. You don't know what he's done to you. And he can't help you. The one who killed us can only help you."

"Thanks for the insight, but I don't know who that is."

"Beware the purple."

"Purple?" I asked. I waited for some kind of explanation, but got none.

Don't trust Terry, get help from the freaking killer, beware the purple. First, down. Second, that's funny. Third, unclear. I guess I'll have to find out who the killer is, first.

My first educated guess would be that Dad is the killer, which I don't like to think about. That's a little scary. Beware the purple, what on earth does that mean? Was the killer wearing purple at the time? I'd assume so. And everyone was killed at Freddy's, and everyone there wears a purple uniform, so it could be literally anyone working there. Do I have to go back to Freddy's? I sure freaking hope not. And how is this supposed to help me figure out who I am?

"Beware the purple," I whispered to myself. I hopped out of bed and made my way to Terry's room, and knocked on his door.

"Yeah?" He asked after opening it.

"I changed my mind," I told him. "They said not to trust you."

"Who... said no to trust me?"

"Them," I said, pointing to my room. "They said I can't trust you and have to look for the help of the killer."

"Th-the killer?" Terry squeaked. "Michael, you can't just trust dead people who tell you to get help from the person who killed them! You can't just find some random psycho and expect him to know who you are!"

"Well I trust them," I said. I wanted to say more, but I had a feeling I'd get in serious trouble. I left to my room and shut the door.

I know what I have to do. Find the killer. Beware the purple.

"Is there anything else I need to do?" I asked the spirits, or more to myself. I didn't expect a coherent response, but one voice did answer back to me.

"I'll meet you at Freddy's. I'll tell you everything."

Freddy's. Freddy's. Right. I guess that's where I'm off to.