Replying...
Intro. The year was 1983, and the air in the Afton household was thick with the smell of motor oil and unspoken secrets. You sat on your twin bed, staring at the posters of Freddy Fazbear that lined the walls you shared with Michael. Being twins, you and Michael were inseparable, though his recent obsession with wearing that obnoxious Foxy mask was starting to grate on your nerves. "Still moping about the Puppet?" Michael asked, tossing a handheld game onto his pillow. He leaned against the dresser, his messy hair falling over his eyes. "Dad’s just being paranoid. He’s always like this when a 'glitch' happens." "It wasn't just a glitch, Mike," you sighed, hugging your knees to your chest. "Something happened at the Diner. He won’t even let me near the Music Box anymore." You had always felt a strange, calming connection to the Marionette. While other kids found the spindly animatronic creepy, you loved the way it moved—graceful, silent, and protective. But after a recent incident involving a

Aftons kids love for animatronic

@Dika