I think I'm dead.

It's true what they say. Your life really does flash before your eyes, but it's not really flashing. It's more like relieving those core moments in your life that really made you, you. That can include those five minutes of adrenaline when discovering a secret passion, or the whole hour of a cry session that had changed the way you think. And while it all replays, you feel that intense emotion and twinge in your gut, as if it was happening the first time.

My brother was there more often than I'd like to admit. I knew he was a prominent figure in my life, but I believed he only impacted me after he left. I was so wrong.

He stood far across from me in a field of grass. Everything around us was hazy, but I was so focused on him that I didn't care much. If I had to guess, we were at some kind of park. He smiled at me, pointed down at his feet, and motioned a kick. I looked down at my own feet.

A soccer ball touched my shoes. I anxiously looked back at him, but then I moved my leg back and hit the ball forward. The shockwave almost knocked me down, and the ball itself didn't roll that far.

"Uhm, not quite," Evan said from afar. He jogged over and lightly kicked the ball alongside him as he got next to me.

"Hit it with the side of your foot, like this," he explained, and then gave a demonstration. It rolled across the field, about to where he originally was. We walked up to it together, and he waited for me to attempt the same.

I didn't have as much control and balance of my body as he did. I didn't know how young I was here, but I was very short, and the oldest I possibly could've been was six. I tried to kick it like he did, and I did manage to focus on hitting it at the right angle, but because of that I didn't use nearly enough force. He sighed and glared down at me.

"No," he simply said. I felt ashamed, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I looked down at the grass below us. Evan pushed me aside and kicked the ball, but this time it flew through the air, landing far away from us. I reached out to it and almost started walking towards it, but Evan turned around and began moving the other way. I was conflicted, not knowing which way to go, but ultimately decided to choose to follow Evan.

Mom and Dad sat at a picnic table. Mom was preparing lunch while Dad seemed to be busy typing away at his laptop. Evan rested his arms on the table and sighed dramatically to get their attention.

"When are they going to be here?" he asked.

"Any minute now," Mom replied, not looking away from her unpacking.

"But I'm bored! And Gregory's no help!" he complained, snarling down at me.

"I thought you two were playing soccer," she said, but Evan shook his head.

"He can't kick the ball!" he yelled. I cowered a bit.

"What about the playground?" Mom suggested, but Evan came up with another excuse.

"It's too kiddy," he said.

"How about that swing on the hill?" Dad finally spoke up.

"What swing?" Evan asked, his interest piqued.

"It should be right up there," he said, pointing to the hill behind the play structures. It reached beyond the field, but I couldn't see any swing from where I was. "It's right at the top, can't miss it," he said.

Evan brought his hand up to his chin. "Time to investigate," he declared, and he began to march away.

"Hey! Take Gregory with you," Dad said, and Evan spun around, annoyed.

"But he's–" Evan stopped himself when he saw Dad scowling at him. He let out a sigh and agreed, "Fine. C'mon."

He took hold of my hand and walked faster than what I could keep pace. I had to trot alongside him to stop myself from tripping. "And be careful!" Dad called out to us. We went around the playground before beginning to walk up the hill.

It was littered in trees and bushes, and though it wasn't that steep, I had a bit of trouble climbing up, and I'd have to hold onto the bark of the trees to keep my balance. Evan moved much quicker than me, almost leaving me behind as he made his way up. I eventually spotted him at the top.

It was a singular swing tied to a sturdy branch on a tree. It had one rope that wrapped around a piece of wood around the middle and through a hole with a tight knot, keeping it in place. Without any hesitation, Evan jumped on and stepped back as far as he could on the swing before lifting his legs and swinging into the air.

I ducked down before he could accidentally kick me. I watched him move back and forth as he seemed to be trying to look over the leaves of the other trees in front of him. I slowly made my way to the tree that the swing was attached to and watched from the safety of the other side.

I didn't really want to take a turn, but after Evan got bored, he insisted that I try. I didn't have much of a choice when he carried me on it and pushed the swing, and for those moments I was over the edge, I held on tightly to the rope. I had managed to give myself a rope burn, and out of pain and being too young to understand how physics worked, I let go. I wasn't able to keep balance on the swing, and I tumbled off and down the hill.

I heard Evan yell out to me, but I just started crying. I tried to push myself off the ground, but when I got my upper body up, I didn't have the strength in me to walk. Evan ran up, looking down at me as I sobbed hysterically.

"You're fine, you big baby!" he shouted at me, but I just cried harder. With a groan, Evan said, "Fine! I'll get Dad," and he left me alone.

I laid back on the ground and cried more. I tried bringing my hands to my face, but my rope burn hurt to the touch, so I just wailed, looking up at the leaves of the trees.

The wind had picked up, and they danced around, distracting me from the stinging. My tears still rolled down my face, but I was breathing easier again. Dad arrived with Evan by his side. He picked me up and carried me, letting me see over his shoulder. I kept staring up at the same tree, even if now it was at a different angle.

When Dad placed me down on the bench, the whole world shifted. Suddenly, I wasn't at the park, or even outside. I was in my room, though it didn't look like how it was now. I had grown much taller, and the rope burns on my hands were gone. The motion of sitting that was happening earlier became falling, and I caught myself on my knees and hands. I'd been pushed. I turned around to face my mother.

She shut my door and messed with the handle on the other side. I got up to my feet as quickly as I could and tried to open the knob, fighting her, but it didn't matter. She managed to lock the door.

"Mom! Open the door!" I shouted. I remembered when she had modified my door to lock on the outside. "Mom! Mom, please!"

I kicked at the door, as if that'd make any difference. It just made the same noise of the wood stiffening.

"Mom, I'm sorry! Just open the door!" I cried. I didn't even know what I was apologizing for, I just didn't want to be locked in here again. I heard her move through the house, but never once responding to my pleas.

I glanced over at my window. I knew it wasn't going to work, but I tried to lift it open anyways. It reached a couple inches, but Mom had installed metal bars to prevent me from opening the door further than that. I tried to pull them out, reaching up as far as I could, but they were bolted in.

I let out a frustrated shriek and hit my head with my fists. I collapsed head-first into my bed and cried, drenching my sheets in my tears as my whole body trembled. Everything felt heavy, my limbs twisting as I tried to console myself.

It's not that I hated this room. It was really the only place I felt safe in. But being cooped up inside, unable to leave and unsure when I could again, it was a special kind of torture. I wasn't strong enough to break the walls or put a hole in the door. Believe me, I had tried that before.

After crying for a while, I fell asleep, and when I woke up again, I went to the door. Still locked. I punched it, but still, nothing. I shook my hand, trying to air off the pain I felt.

It was early morning now. I was pretty sure it was a school day, but if Mom hadn't returned to let me out, I couldn't go. Most people would like to skip, but honestly, it felt nice being somewhere where I wouldn't have to worry about my mom. I had some teachers who were nice to me, and sometimes, the band teacher would let me stay in her classroom after school when she was offering extra lessons. I didn't play an instrument, but she'd let me hang out, watch, and do homework. I was fine with this setup. The longer I was away from home, the better.

I didn't know how many days of school I've missed because of my mom. Sometimes, she'd find ways to forge fake doctor's notes to keep me home without the school having to penalize me for it. If she didn't, I'd probably be forced to retake a year.

I was on the floor now. This feeling of boredom was overwhelming. I didn't have anything cool in my room, unlike Evan. His whiteboard came to my mind frequently. It was easy entertainment, just writing and drawing and erasing. I had to remind myself to get something that I could entertain myself with the next time this happened.

I felt my stomach growl. I wasn't sure when was the last time I had eaten something. I got up and walked into my bathroom, turning on the sink faucet and lowering my head in, drinking the water as it fell. It was uncomfortable, but it got a lot more water than using the cup-hands method. When I felt like I had gotten enough, I turned it off and left.

I went back to laying on the floor, daydreaming myself out of here. It was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept imagining the same thing over and over, trying to get it perfect, before I could move on to the next. I didn't think the little stories in my head were all that interesting. It was just the act itself that kept me awake.

I lost track of time. Daydreaming, crying, sleeping, repeat. I played dress up for a while, too. I had some of my old Halloween costumes still in my closet, so I tried them on. I'd gotten too big for a few of them, so I threw those into a pile to throw out. I tried on some other clothes, mix-matching things that probably shouldn't be together. I knew this was kind of a "girlie" activity, but it was one of the few things I could do to keep myself sane.

I didn't know when my Mom returned, but she unlocked the door and stared at me. She looked tired and smelled like smoke. She brought out her arms, waiting for a hug. I didn't want to, but I knew if I didn't she'd get mad at me, so I sucked it up and gave her one.

"Oh, Evan," she mumbled, and I let go and stumbled back. She looked at me again, blinking and rubbing her eyes. "Shit! Gregory! I-I meant Gregory," she assured.

I just stared down at the floor, fighting back my tears. I can't keep doing this; going through my own personal Hell only to be greeted with a name that isn't even my own.

The room morphed once again. I kept getting nausea each time I was transported to a new place, but this was the strangest teleportation so far. It was a pizzeria, with two golden yellow animatronics performing on stage, their bodies robotic in movement compared to the other animatronics I met in the pizzaplex. The bear sang while the bunny danced. I had never seen anything quite like it. The walls were lined with this weird pattern, the floor a confetti carpet mess, and tables had balloons tied to them. I've never been here before, and I was sure of it. So, just what was this?

I felt out of place, out of my own body, but I had to figure out what was going on. I glanced around, trying to find some kind of clue. I sat on my knees, crying uncontrollably, while four older boys surrounded me, wearing the masks of the Fazbear gang; Freddy, Foxy, Chica, and Bonnie.

Oh no. I realized it almost immediately. This wasn't my memory. I read Michael's journal, and I knew what was coming. I sobbed harder, feeling terrified of what was to come. He had said he had named his first son after him, so this person I was playing... His name must be Evan.

"Wow, your brother is kind of a baby, isn't he?" the boy in Bonnie's mask said.

"It's hilarious," Michael chuckled back. He glanced between his friends and proposed an idea. "Why don't we help him get a closer look? He'll love it!"

"No! Please!" I shouted, but my cries seemed to go unheard.

"Come on guys, let's give this little man a lift. He wants to get up close and personal!" Michael declared. He and his Bonnie friend picked me up as I yelled and screamed, kicking out my legs as I tried to escape his grasp.

Michael, don't! You'll regret it for the rest of your life! I cried out in my mind. For whatever reason, I couldn't seem to yell out those exact words to him. Instead, all I could muster out was a terrified shriek, "No! I don't want to go!" Nothing wavered them. In fact, all it did was provoke them even more.

"You heard the little man!" Michael shouted over my crying. "He wants to get even closer!" He let out a deep laugh.

They got close to the bear, and my sobs became louder and more intense. "Hey guys," Michael said, "I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!"

Michael, you stupid idiot! He had no idea what he was about to do.

He began a countdown. "On three! One, two..." Michael didn't even say three before he and his friends pushed my head into the jaws of Fredbear.

I could see the animatronic's insides from this angle. I struggled in place, wailing as my hands scurried around Fredbear's face, pushing against the suit to try and escape. Michael and his friends just laughed at my weak attempts.

When Fredbear's jaws clenched, I felt his teeth sink into the back of my head and face. The mix of my wet tears and blood glitched Fredbear to the point of being unable to move. My arms that were placed upon Fredbear went limp, and I dangled from that spot. The pre-recorded music continued to play while the bunny animatronic continued to dance, as if nothing had happened. My blood poured from Fredbear's mouth, dripping onto his chest and the floor.

I wasn't quite dead yet, though I wished I was. I didn't know how to explain it, but it felt as if my soul extracted itself from the persona of Evan, letting me become a random observer watching from the corner.

Michael was frozen in place. His friends stepped back, as if to displace the blame off of them. Michael ripped the foxy mask off of him, it getting caught on a piece of his hair. He tossed it to the floor and climbed onto the stage, suddenly bursting with nervous energy. He tried to tear apart Fredbear's jaws. "Evan!" he shrieked, pulling as hard as he possibly could. His hands were now covered in Evan's blood, and when he noticed nothing he did would tear him out, he anxiously tried to wipe off the blood on his clothes and face.

"Michael! What did you do?" a taller man got onto the stage to join him. He looked similar to the Michael I knew, so I guessed this was William, his father.

And my grandfather.

"I-I didn't... I only... I-It was an accident," he stammered on his words, cowering away from him. His father didn't hesitate to pull his arm back and strike his fist into Michael's face. He fell to the floor, landing on his back and not bothering to get up as he started to violently cry. His friends crowded around him, trying to get him up, as William with his expertise was able to get the jaw open.

I couldn't watch this anymore. I spun around and ran towards the exit, but when I opened the door and made it to the road, the ground gave way to a bottomless pit, to which the thundering rain spilled in. I stepped back and turned around, but now everything was different.

It was raining, and my clothes and hair were soaking wet, sticking onto my skin as if I'd been outside for a long time. I peered into the window. The interior had changed, and there were no golden animatronics to be seen, no Evan dying in the jaws of Fredbear, and no Michael crying on the stage. Instead, children were running around back and forth as they played, leaving behind me in the cold rain.

I put my hands along the window, noticing the green band around my wrist. I wasn't myself here, either. I tried to look at the faint reflection in the window, just to see who I was now.

The face of a young girl stared back at me. She looked terrified and scared. I didn't know who she was or why I was acting as her now, but I knew I had to get inside.

"Let me in! Let me in!" I shouted, pounding my fists on the glass. Each time I hit it, it felt like the world shook, and my head whirled as it tried to adjust. When nothing I did brought any attention, I let my hands drag along the window as I sighed, leaving my fingerprints on the window.

A car drove up along the road, levitating above the bottomless pit beneath it. A man stepped out, floating above the nothingness while his steps somehow lit up below him, and I recognized him as William. This wasn't going to end well.

"Uncle William!" I yelled, relieved, though I cringed a bit on the inside calling him that. "Sammy locked me out again. Can you let me inside?" I asked. I didn't know who Sammy was or why they locked me out. I didn't have control of the things I said and did, even if I knew what was coming.

He smiled down at me and nodded, but I then noticed the knife in his hand and anxiously stepped back. The real girl's whose memories I was reliving was probably thinking different things than me; she most likely believed he needed it for some other reason she didn't understand, but I anticipated his next move.

"Mr. Afton?" I asked, sounding confused. The real girl was starting to grasp what was happening, but still seemed rather reluctant to believe it. Without another word, William thrusted the knife towards me. I flinched and felt that weird sensation when something passed through me. I gasped and gurgled. I'd been struck in the chest between my lungs and heart, and I began murmuring as William removed the knife. Without the balance he was previously providing, I collapsed to the ground, and my blood poured out in pools while I began sobbing. I cried for a few moments before I felt too tired to even move, feeling paralyzed in place. William turned away and walked back to his car, where he drove off into nothing. I didn't bother to keep my eyes on him.

I hated this. I hated it so much. Seeing my own life was sad enough, but living the deaths of other victims was so much worse. I'd trade my life for theirs if I could, but I knew these deaths were long in the past.

The door opened, finally, and I was barely able to move my eyes far enough to see who it was. On one hand, I hoped it was Sammy, just so that I knew whoever they were was kind enough to open the door at some point, but on the other hand, I hoped it wasn't. How were they going to react to this dead girl? Either way, someone needed to find her before William returned, if he ever would.

What walked out wasn't human, though, and I recognized its face as the security puppet from ages ago. Its limbs were long and shaky as it stumbled out to the alley. The rain drenched it as it moved over, having to crawl a bit as its circuits began to fry. It collapsed on top of me, giving me a consoling embrace before it, too, couldn't move anymore.