Mentions Of Child Abuse// - Tumblr Posts

★ — The way in which he's currently being held ( several feet off the ground at that ) makes it impossible for Gregory to escape the man's cold scrutiny. Even so, the boy finds he's subconsciously curling in on himself, arms pulled in towards his chest, legs curled beneath him and shoulders rounding forward as his head practically ducks down into his neck — making himself as small as possible, as if a meek, mild mannered response might aid him somehow.

( he's long since learned that when adults are angry, it's best to keep to yourself as much as possible, lest you make things worse for yourself by talking back. even if he didn't follow his own advice often ).

Gregory feels like a mouse who was smart enough to avoid the trap itself, but not clever enough to look for the thing that set it out in the first place.

He doesn't know. He doesn't know — and that's the scary part. There's still so much that remains unanswered, too many possibilities beyond Gregory's certainty that someone close to the Fazbear restaurants is the start of everything. William Afton had been a suspect, along with what felt like a dozen others.

The man certainly wasn't doing anything to prove his innocence, though.

" .... figured the kitchen would be, uh, too obvious. All the kids would be sneaking in there. But — maybe I got ahead of myself."

Sheepish laugh, and Gregory timidly lifts a single hand towards the man's grip on the back of his shirt, a silent plea to put him down. If he's to be stuck in a predator's den, he'd at least like the opportunity to run.

The question catches him off guard — his parents? Nonexistent, even in his own time. Shock flickers into his expression only for a brief moment ( blink and you'll miss it ). Please, god, don't let him be caught in his own lie.

"They, uh, both work. All day. So they let me come here. We .... live close enough to walk. That's probably why you've never seen them."

𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝, 'round his large knuckles in order to hoist the child up in the air. nobody around. clearly he had to be more careful. children are curious, and who knows whether he would have noticed the break in the wall [...] that which was left out of all building plans.

he doesn't look happy. 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘. fingers tightening around unwashed fabric, as he contemplates. as upper lip jumps. -- his scowling features accompanied by an even lower descent of his eyebrows. though he doesn't look any more than slightly confused, or perhaps annoyed.. further perpetuated as one ridge peaks with a large inhale.

the child is high up off the floor, from the height of william's grasp. what would happen if he just [...] "oh? -- i would have suspected you'd be clever enough to guess the kitchen, first."

he believes the boy as far as he could throw him. that reminds him.. 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎-𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠... but it wouldn't be near as enjoyable. without bonnie. without the knife.

the clatter and chatter outside enough to steal his gaze, whilst watching staff pass by the corridor. will clenches his jaw with a visible wince - expression tightening with the burn of his headache. looking from behind his red-tinted glasses. one hand on his hip, while he shifts his weight.

he twists the child to view him.

the boy suspected him. 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝? sniffing about back here. was that his paranoia talking? or.... "now that you mention it." [...] he tilts his head, with his still bouncing lip tilted the opposite direction. upward into a lopsided, subtle smirk. if he wanted information, he'd just have to play unfair... "--- where are your parents? surely they're looking for you, by now."

★ — Every moment of time that this interaction stretches onwards feels more precarious than the last — Gregory's heart racing, a heavy, thrumming staccato in his ears, against his ribcage, beating so furiously ( like the wings of a scared bird ) that it's nearly painful ; trapped, trapped, trapped.

This is the edge of a cliff. One wrong move, and everything comes crashing down. Gregory will fall with the rocks and rubble, only to be buried. An afterthought, not even begetting of a footnote in the list of tragedies. Even in his own timeline, there's no one looking for him, no one that cares enough to make sure nothing happens to him. Hell, he'd been living on the streets for a week before he'd stumbled into the pizzaplex, found himself out of his mind and out of his time. Here? There is no one who will care — no one to notice.

Avoiding eye contact ; it's too much, the realization, this horrific game of cat and mouse he's found himself trapped in. All at once he feels much too small, too much of a child overwhelmed and in over his head.

Then Mr. Afton starts laughing, low and quiet but he's so close that Gregory has no choice but to hear. It's enough to snap him out of his head and back to reality ; the sound akin to ice - water being forced through his veins. His eyes go wide.

" i think you don't have any parents. "

It's a familiar taunt, one he's heard dozens of times from anyone who thought he might make an easy target — bullies in the form of other children and adults. However many times he's heard it doesn't make it sting any less, still clouding his reason and rationality as he begins to kick and shift his weight under Afton's vice - like grip, a hand reaching up to claw at the hand holding him aloft.

"Why do you care?! It's none of your business! I'm here and I leave and nothing else matters! Put me down ——! Put me down or I'll start yelling and all the people out there will come in here to see what's wrong!"

𝚆𝙰𝚂𝙽'𝚃 𝙳𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴. . . . perhaps he didn't have to. somewhere within his charming visage is something dark -- somehow simultaneously screaming out both his innocence &. his guilt. to a degree in which if you saw him in the right light, every explanation would fall into place. henry was arrested, first. next he'll be put through the ringer, though he doesn't yet realize this. the police's lack of evidence was shocking enough as it is. confidence not allowing any sort of worry to live outside general paranoia. if nobody found out, they couldn't prove it. end of discussion.

he would not let this little shit be the end of him. pounding, pulsating compulsions pushing blood against veins . . . hearing the rush in his ears, in the twitches of curled fingers . . .

knows better. you think you're safe to put one down &. off they go crying to the police, or their parents. even if this one didn't have parents around, there were many concerned patrons outside ripe for the picking. no . . . he wouldn't go down so easily. needed to be ensured of silence.

" -- quite amusing, yes. perhaps you have." more than you know, little one. more than you know.

his brows were still lowered in scrutiny, lip curled a bit with jumps in twitching fits. the desire to mangle the child's spine is so unbearably hard to control, but he must. cameras, business. it was a horrid combination. besides, it just wasn't right . . . none of it was right, &. it stank like shit &. suspicion.

yet explanation sends his lowered brow in an arch, grey eyes flickering back &. forth over their shared eye contact. however, all of a sudden, all at once . . . features come alive with manic amusement. curling smile like a bow, with dark chuckles slipping from between the cracks in his teeth. "surely . . ." he replies.

"would you like to know what i think? i think you don't have any parents -- whether that means they've croaked, or that they just don't care about you enough to stay sober for an iota of their pathetic lives. now, would i be right about that?" he asks, hoping to use this as a bargaining chip . . . yes, with an eleven year old.