Eyes Wide Shut: 8

When I reached the end of the vent, I waited. I wasn’t sure what to do next. I thought about the sack I was carrying beneath my chest, and touched it, feeling the the figure’s outline. Dropping the jacket onto the ground, I tore the pocket away with both hands and climbed into my gallery.

William was where I left him, with a strip of web over his lips. His head was hung down, in resignation or exhaustion. Perhaps both. I wanted to ask him about the family in the photograph.
But I didn’t need answers right now.

I had my own family to tend to.

Turning away from William, I shifted my body so that he couldn’t see what I was holding. In one hand I held the pouch; with the other I lifted out the doll, hooking two fingers around his chest. I crumpled the pouch into a ball and stuck it to the wall above the vent; it had no use to me anymore.
All I really wanted was him. The faceless dancer who had pervaded my dreams once before. The one I killed. I held his limp, broken body in my hands, rolling the head back and forth with my thumb as I stared at the thing.
Boy. It was a boy, not a thing. He was my son; that’s what he was. I shepherded him into this world. I taught him how to be a better dancer. I did the best a mother could. Didn’t I?

I wish that I had more patience.
I wish that I could have remembered the good times.
I wish that I could remember his name.

I gazed down at the figure in my hands. What would happen if I were to put him and William into the same cocoon? Perhaps William would lend his life to him. Or maybe he would make a new dancer, and I would be left with a dead man, a dead child, and a new soul.

That wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. As much as I loved him, and as much as I loathed William, I had never attempted anything of the sort. The composting process had a certain sanctity to it that I wasn’t willing to violate. Not even for him. I only used one person, and only to make a new one. I don’t think I was ready to replace this one yet, either.

I held the face close to my own. On the rim of the hole were pieces of the mask, bent inward. An empty smile on the inside. It was shining from the light, as was the oily coating at the back of where the skull would be, if he was human.

But he wasn’t human. He wasn’t a performer, either. Bone and organs didn’t fill his body, and neither did circuitry and pistons. He was something different; something special. As were his siblings.

I stuck my thumbnail into the hole I had killed him with some days ago, and gently moved it around in the socket. There wasn’t a twitch, or a squeak. He didn’t slap at my finger. He was dead, and there was nothing more that could be done.

There was nothing left to do but move on. I scooped his body into one hand, and curled him up in my palm. Then I crushed it. It resisted for a brief moment, but the snapping of limbs and joints soon followed.

When I opened my hand, there was no blood. There wasn’t much damage. His body was ridden with veined cracks, but they only made him look elegant. Like a weathered marble statue. I wrapped my fingers around him again, preparing to finish the job. Then I stopped.

I looked up at the ceiling. Nestled away in the corner was a collection of others, who I had failed in similar ways. They were very much alive, but in an eternal dream. One to soothe their pain. They had crippled bodies and missing limbs, just like he did.

I momentarily wondered if I should stir them from their naps for one last dance, and let them move on as well. But then I looked back at the corpse, and sat down against the wall.

I’ve had my fill of death for the day.

Straightening the dead boy’s body, I laid him out on a long strip of web in one hand, like one of Mr. Afton’s operating tables. His pink shirt had darkened from blood, and was now closer to purple as the darkness soaked into the fabric. It looked fresh.

I dug a fingernail under the crusty shirt, and tore it from his body. Slathered underneath was a coating of ink, oozing from a gash in the chest. I gently rubbed the blood away with my thumb, taking care not to press too hard.

Satisfied by his appearance, I examined the dancer one final time. I doubted that he was the best dancer, and I didn’t know if he was the smartest. But he did have a personality. He was rebellious, hiding while I gathered up his siblings. It ultimately got him killed, but it was a brave trait to have, even if it was foolish. Suicidal. My mind wandered back to when he broke cover, and wondered if he did it on purpose. I immediately dismissed the thought.

I placed the remaining arm over his chest- it just seemed proper. Somehow, it seemed right. Now I was ready. I lifted up the web, and folded it around him. The result was a long, flat package that was very unlike the other dancers’ pods. It was much narrower, and rectangular.

He was all wrapped up now, just like a Christmas present. For a ribbon, I gently kneaded the shirt into the center of the web, above where his head was located. Finally, he was done.

But he needed a name, didn’t he? I couldn’t remember his old one, and it seemed only proper. I thought about it for a while.

Billy seemed like a good replacement. Short but sweet. The more I thought about it, the more I liked that name.
Standing on my toes, I reached up and placed Billy on the wall. It was at a good distance from everybody else, so his tomb wouldn’t be disturbed. I also wouldn’t have to look at him anymore, whenever I wanted to leave the room.

With that settled, I slipped a finger down my abdomen, and took out the family photograph. The shy young boy was still there, side by side with his older brother. The funny little girl was still being held by her mother. And they were all still happy.

I realized then that the girl seemed familiar. I had seen her somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where. Her name was Alice. Or maybe it was Iris. Something like that. She would be eight or nine by now, surely. Where was she from?

I turned my head toward William, and moved toward him. He became alert as I got closer, and was staring at the photograph I held between my fingers. I held it in front of him for a few seconds, and then pulled it away. He said something, but I couldn’t understand it. It was muffled by the web on his mouth.

I poked his right hand, which was still covered in web.The hand was still solid,and poking it didn’t seem to hurt him. I would have to find something else.

When you want to take care of somebody’s “boo-boo”, as the employees called it, you put a bandage over the wound, along with a kiss. When the cut or scrape or scratch is healed up, you’re encouraged to remove the bandage in one swift motion.

I lifted one end of the strip, and gradually began peeling it off. William winced as the bandage left a mark of raw skin in its wake. Half of his face was contorting in all sorts of expressions I had never seen him make before. A grimace one second, and a scowl the next.

I stopped at the nose. He stared at me, saying nothing as sweat ran down his cheeks. I saw a detached look in his eyes that made me feel like I was in his office again. Being judged and examined and dissected. He was always so calm and disinterested when he did his tests...

I ripped the web off, and he yelped. Now both sides of his mouth were red, like a clown’s makeup.

“What is this?”, I asked. I brought the photo into his view, while keeping my voice neutral, at a passive monotone.
William looked at the picture, and looked through it. He was staring at the photograph, but his gaze was distant, and focused elsewhere. I waited for a response.

“My family,” he said at last. He spoke with a slight, but noticeable quiver. His words were strained.
“Who are they?”
He licked his lips. “That’s Iris.”
I moved closer, and lowered until my face was in front of his. “Which one?”
William looked down, and did not answer. I asked the question again. Again he did not respond, so I lifted his head up toward me. He spat in my face.

I stood up and turned away, as I wiped off the saliva with my free hand. Then I moved closer.

I put one hand under his chin, and pushed up to keep his jaw shut. My fingers covered his mouth and nose while I used my other hand to push the right side of his head against the wall. He squirmed like a petulant child refusing to eat, but I had him subdued. He would have his deserts.

I moved my head closer, until my face was inches away from his ear. I pushed my mouth against his cheek, and moved it to his ear while he struggled. My hands held him still while he tried to pull away. I could feel the ear lobe in my teeth.
“I’ll find out,” I whispered.
I pulled away from William, and stood up. When I released his mouth, he screamed. It was a bellowing, savage scream- one closer to a roar. The kind of scream only Freddy made, and when he was especially angry.

My jaw split open as I slammed his head against the wall. A glob of fluid fell out onto his face, covering his mouth and dripping down his chin. I held a finger in front of my lips, and shushed him.

“You’ll wake the neighbors,” I said. Gripping his neck, I put a finger on the patch of web covering his mouth and shushed him again before letting go. “Quiet.”

The picture had crumpled during the chaos. It wasn’t torn, but wouldn’t keep the neat squared shape it had before. Before leaving, I showed it to William.

“Look what you did,” I told him. He didn’t acknowledge the photo or my voice. I turned around, and walked to the other end of the room. After lifting up the cover, I crawled inside.

I proceeded down the vent in a calm, orderly fashion. It was only a guard acting out, after all. Nothing to worry about.


 When I opened up the vent into the security office, someone was already there.

He was across the room and sitting on the edge of an open drawer, swinging his legs back and forth. When he heard my hands slap onto the floor, he stopped moving his legs and looked at me. As I stared back, I wondered what he was thinking. Did he feel any guilt for letting the fox into the henhouse? Was he ashamed of the fact that he abandoned me?

“Hello, Marty.” I said coolly. He stood up, and began backing away toward the cabinet.
Would I take him back? Could I? I doubted it. Marty wasn’t one of mine anymore. He had made his choice; he was Foxy’s now.

She was here, too. Foxy rushed over to Marty with quick footsteps, speaking in unintelligible squawks as she scooped him up. I should’ve known that she’d be out here, just out of sight. She was almost exactly as I last saw her. Almost. She hadn’t bothered to replace her snout or tail, but the wires I severed when I tore the snout off were wrapped up at the ends.

She looked a bit shinier. So did Marty. His mask had an elegant gloss to it that Billy’s lacked. And he smelled sweeter, too. Like a newborn, fresh out of the inky muck they came from. They had been taking care of themselves.

Good for them, I suppose.

Marty was climbing up Foxy’s right arm as more noises came from her. She assumed a defensive posture, and looked like she was going to pounce. Then she began to speak.

“The voice?”, she asked. I had never heard her speak before. The most I remembered of her own voice was hissing and screaming. For everything else, she copied someone else. This was new. A broken voice in a deep, feminine tone. It would take a while to get used to.

“A guard.” I paused, and then added “He’s dead now.”
She turned her head toward Marty, who was now sitting on her shoulder. He shrugged, and she looked back at me.

“Dead. Yes.” She didn’t quite have a handle on intonation yet. Or maybe she was just being sarcastic.

“Yes, dead,” I said. I watched the two of them closely. Marty was anxious; shifting in his seat and occasionally glancing at Baby Gallery’s vent before looking back at us. “I can show you the body, if you’d like.”

Foxy turned to Marty again. I heard him gibber something at her-it was too fast and too low to make out what he was saying, if anything.

Whatever it was, she humored him. When she turned back to me, she said “Won’t be needed.”

I was about to ask if we were finished, but was interrupted by loud rumbling coming from Baby’s vent. Marty’s head swung toward it, and he tapped Foxy’s shoulder multiple times.
She picked Marty up, and bent down as she lifted up the vent with her other hand. She ushered him inside, and closed the vent behind him. Baby entered the room a second after Foxy stood up.

“Who was screaming?”, said the grime-coated gremlin that was once recognizably Circus Baby, pint-sized star of Circus Baby’s Pizza World. Her red lips and rosy cheeks had faded away, while her shell pieces were spotted with polka dots of oil and dried blood. Without William’s men hosing her down, she must have let her cleanliness go to waste. Knowing her godliness, I would hate to see the Bidybabs.

“A guard,” I repeated.
“Really?”, she asked. Her tone became much more interested.
“He’s been taken care of.”
“Oh,” she said. “How so?”
“I snapped his neck.”
“That’s a real waste, Ballora. You do know how long it’s been since we’ve gotten a new one, right?”

Throughout all of this, Foxy remained silent, and was watching both of us intently. I doubt that Baby noticed.

“Please explain, Circus Baby. It was you who suggested that it was ‘finders keepers’, right?”
Foxy moved in. “Demanded,” she corrected.

For the first time in the conversation, Baby looked at her. I wasn’t sure which she was more shocked by- the voice or the word. She took a few seconds to muster a reply. “Well, I just think it’s a waste. That’s all,” she said.

“She found him.”
“And I killed him,” I said.
Baby’s voice was growing more and more agitated. “You know, guys, Freddy gets real angry when he hasn’t caught anyone…” She trailed off, waiting for a reaction.

“Freddy doesn’t hunt. And if he did anything, you’d look like Foxy.”

Foxy didn’t say anything, while Baby retorted with a loud, sullen grunt and walked back to her vent. She crawled inside, and started going down the shaft. The banging sounded like a thunderstorm.

While she was leaving, Foxy moved over to the cabinet that Marty had been sitting in, and opened up the drawer beneath it. She took out a pack of crayons and a stack of paper, and deposited them in front of her vent. When the thunder had passed, she turned to me and said “Cloth.“

“What?”
“Cloth. On the floor.” She held up a piece of William’s shirt. “Purple cloth,” she added.
It was a silly mistake. I was so distracted when I was washing myself that I didn’t notice that. A very, very silly mistake.
“He’s not dead?”, she asked.
I wasn’t sure what to tell her. She was awfully interested in this guard, yet I had never seen her come out to hunt.
“He’s dead, now,” I said.
She didn’t answer for a seconds, and only stared at me. “Why now?”
“He was trying to steal from me. I made it a last a bit longer.”
She seemed satisfied. “Done,” she said. Foxy returned to her vent, and bent down to open it.
“Tell Marty I said goodbye,” I called.

She picked up the materials, and lifted up the vent to reveal Marty, who was waiting on the other side. They disappeared into the darkness as the vent dropped shut behind them.

I listened to the fading sounds of their rattling, and then crawled into my vent. William was hanging his head again when I climbed out.

“You should be quieter,” I said. “They all want a piece of you.”
He did not raise his head.
I stood in front of him, and lowered myself to match his face.

“I am going to ask you some questions,” I said. “Again. But with some changes.”
He still wasn’t reacting. He was acting just like Circus Baby. Childish.

“Nod your head for yes. Shake your head for no. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“Is your name William Afton?”
Yes.
“Did you know that Baby likes taking people apart?”
No.
“Do you acknowledge that Foxy would have sliced your throat if she found you first?”
Yes.
“Do you acknowledge that what they would do to you if they knew you were here is far worse
than what I could ever do?”
He seemed to contemplate it for a few seconds. Then he slowly nodded, twice. Yes, yes.
“Was that your family in the photograph?”
Yes.
“Is Iris your daughter?”
He didn’t do anything. I moved closer.
“Be honest,” I said sternly. “Is Iris your daughter?”
He nodded, finally.
My hunch was correct, I had seen her somewhere after all. The name must've come from somewhere. He was staring at me now. Intently. He wasn’t analyzing me, though. There was none of that. There was only hatred in his eyes, beneath that furrowed brow. He'll have to learn to be more co-operative.

“Do you think that you’re better off with me than Freddy, Baby, or Foxy?”
After a moment of hesitation, William nodded. Yes. The anger either died down, or he had gotten it under control.
“Do you accept that with me, you would die a useful death, instead of being dismembered and discarded?”
He didn’t answer. Maybe he didn't understand.
I rephrased it-“Would you prefer to be immortalized, rather than forgotten?”

He looked at the walls around him, and saw the rows of white egg-shaped packages. He was understanding now, slowly but surely. Then he began nodding very rapidly. Yes-yes-yes-yes. I wondered why he was so eager, until I realized he was throwing his head against the wall.

That wouldn’t do me any good. I dug into his "cast”, tearing away a clump of web. Holding his head still with the other, I applied it to the wall behind his head before jabbing it with a finger. It was well layered and sturdy. It would make for a good cushion. I checked his hair for any blood, but didn’t find any. He looked disoriented.

I won’t give him another chance like that in the future.

“Do you want to die?”, I asked him.
He didn’t answer, and was staring at me with an empty expression. He didn’t protest when I placed a blindfold over his eyes, either. It was loose, and wasn't attached to him. He had no way of removing it, though.

I decided that he was done for the day, so I walked away and began stirring the dancers I had worked with during my last lesson. Today would be a more intensive session than the others, but I had faith in them. As I moved along the row, pressing upon each pod, I looked up at the ceiling and saw Billy’s coffin.

For a moment, I wondered why I had taken his arm away. I also wondered why Iris reminded me of him so much. But Iris wasn’t here right now, and neither was Billy. They were in the past.  So I looked away, and focused on the here and now.

I lined all of the dancers up, and began to demonstrate.