Bodies broke like toys in my hands.

Smoke leaked in billows from the truck.

I revelled in their screams.

> Execute([LIFT])

> executing command = [LIFT]

How nostalgic... Taking human life again. In this suit. Spring Bonnie, my sweet innocent tool. 

It was easier to kill now than when I was alive. The children were simple, but these men... they never stood a chance. Invigorating. I only wished I had the time to savor it... yet, another thing you took from me.

I knew where you lived.

I had been watching.

There was no moon or street lamps to light the empty street. I preferred it that way.

I dragged their bodies with me, one over my shoulder, one by the ankle. 

I walked. I don’t know how long I walked. Blood stopped its trail long before I was done walking. Even outside, white noise threatened to consume me. It followed me, like a curse. A never ending fog. A damned plague. It made me violent. Murderous. The only thing that lifted that dreaded fog...

Was the thought of your neck snapping under my hands.

It was my mantra in my skull. My rhythm to walk to. My song to sing to. 

It played in my mind, banishing the white noise like how a flashlight attempts to expel the shadows. It replayed as I stalked through darkness. It replayed as I approached your house. It replayed as I kicked down your back door.

Your home was silent. It was still.

I stalked through your home, listening closely for a heart beat.

You weren’t home. Would you ever return home? Maybe. Maybe not. I would make you.

I dropped the bodies on the ground with a heavy thud. A small clatter drew my attention. It was a thin phone. I saw how you utilized yours. The screen wouldn’t react to my metal and fabric fingers... but it did react to the lifeless body’s.

It was easy enough to understand, the little pictures acting like roadway signs for navigating the device. I found the address book. Looking for your name was useless. I broke your phone. I couldn’t find your name anyway. But then I saw theirs. Your coward of a friend. I knew who you were with. 

I pressed the night guard’s name with the body’s finger. The phone rang once, twice-

“Hello?”

“P̴u̵t̸ ̵t̸h̷e̵m̷ ̵o̵n̷ ̵t̵h̷e̴ ̷p̶h̷o̶n̶e̸.̶”

“...Wh.. Who is-?”

“P̴u̵t̸ ̵t̸h̷e̵m̷ ̵o̵n̷ ̵t̵h̷e̴ ̷p̶h̷o̶n̶e̸.̶”

There was silence. Then, shuffling on the other end. More silence. The silence was an eternity.

And then, “... Bonnie.” Your voice. Popping and fizzing sounds with wheezing pants oozed from my voicebox. Bonnie’s metal bones charged like a live wire with excitement. Down, boy...

“C̷o̷m̸e̴ ̶h̷o̶m̸e̴,̸ ̴c̸a̶r̵r̵o̵t̸.̸”

I snapped the phone in my hand. I didn’t need to threaten you. The fact that I was here—the fact that I called for you was threat enough.

You, the traitor, would get what you deserved. 

You deserved... a party.

> ([PARTY MODE] = active) = Yes/No?

You like parties, don’t you Bonnie? Let’s throw a party for our favored guest.

> Yes. 

> [PARTY MODE] = active

─────

The door opened.

You returned. Of course, you did. You had to.

You were afraid. I could tell by how you lingered in the doorway. Would you try to run? No. You were too damn curious for that, weren’t you, traitor? It wouldn’t matter if you did, anyway.

The door closed behind you, sealing away the last bits of sunlight. 

Anticipation sent sweet electricity spiralling through my fingertips. Bonnie childishly itched to grab you and make you move faster. I could tell by how my metal sang in excitement. Bonnie loved surprise parties.

Each step you took out of my sight was tantalizing torture. But I was very good at being patient. 

Your eyes locked onto mine. You dropped your bag. 

Fear. Horror. Disgust. It all passed your expression in an instant. It was euphoria.

The party must’ve been some of my best work, despite how little I had to work with. Streamers... party hats... paper used as confetti... and blood painted on every surface. The walls, the floor, the table—ribs cracked open, spilling viscera onto party platters; throats messily slit in a pretty necklace of flesh gone purple, decorated with a pearl of bone. You’d wear a necklace of purple too, traitor, since you didn’t like the choker I gave you.

“W̵e̷l̴c̸o̷m̷e̴ ̸h̵o̸m̴e̷,̶ .̷”

Your body shook. Your eyes trembled. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from my handiwork. I couldn’t blame you. How lucky you were that you got to witness the art of a master. No... not just witness. You’d be a part of it. 

You turned around and vomited into a potted plant. Gross.

I stood up, and you cowered against the wall behind you in fear, tears pinpricked at your trembling eyes. Oh, how delicious it was to see you like this, traitor. No more games. No more bargains. You would finally taste what you were fated to the moment you got your hands on me.

Endless, all-consuming white noise.

“Why-!” Your voice cracked in your fear when I took a step closer, and that brought a pleasing shiver up my spine. Your tearful gaze burned into me, hatred and anger and desperation all mixing in a captivating cocktail. Finally, the liar loses their mask. “Why did you come back?!”

A laugh like dogs dying in a woodchipper spilled from my cracking voicebox. How delightful! You were fighting back! “Y̵o̷u̷ ̷h̸a̴d̴ ̸t̶o̸ ̶s̴e̴e̴ ̸t̵h̸i̴s̷ ̸c̸o̶m̶i̸n̵g̵.̵” The irony was as sweet as frosting and twice as wonderful.

“I-I-!” Your pupils fluttered, trying to tear away from my handiwork. “I fixed you! I came back-!”

“Y̸o̵u̷ ̴h̷a̷d̸ ̸t̵o̸,” Each step I took toward you escalated your tantalizing fear. “W̶e̵l̶l̴ ̵d̶o̴n̸e̷,̸ ̴t̶r̴a̶i̴t̷o̴r̴.̵”

“I did everything right!” You practically screamed at me, and I loved seeing you desperate and maddened. “I did everything right! I-I-! I fixed you! I helped you! I was perfect! I even sent you back to that damned place so you could-!”

I slammed my fist down on the party table, and you flinched. “Y̴o̶u̶ ̴w̷e̸r̴e̶ ̴M̶I̴N̵E̵.̶ ̵Y̷o̷u̶ ̴a̷r̷e̴ ̵m̸i̸n̷e̷.̸ S̷o̷f̷t̶ ̶t̵o̸u̵c̴h̶e̸s̵ ̷a̵n̷d̵ ̶f̴i̴x̷e̵d̴ ̵p̷a̸r̵t̸s̸ ̵d̵i̶d̴ ̶n̵o̵t̷ ̷f̴r̸e̶e̸ ̴y̵o̶u̷ ̷f̴r̸o̷m̴ ̴m̵e̵,̴ ̶t̸r̵a̴i̵t̷o̸r̸.̴”

You stuttered in your stupor. Did you really not realize you belonged to me? How that irked me. I made you say it! Obliviousness gives way to stupidity. I twitched in my madness. Even now—even as your life was in my hands—you stood dumbfounded at your own betrayal.

“Well-!” You spat, your voice cracking again in your fear and frustration. “I-I wouldn’t have sent you away if I knew you grew attached-!”

I grabbed your throat and slammed you into the wall, and you choked on your words. Your eyes dilated, seeing stars. I felt your tears spill onto my hands and the feeling fed my hunger. I almost enjoyed this more than if you never betrayed me at all. 

Your suffering was karmic retribution. You deserved this. You deserved to see your demise in the making. You deserved to have every lie stripped from you until you were laid raw in front of me. I wouldn’t be quick about it. I would take my time. I would prolong your suffering until you were too numb to feel—until the white noise consumed you before even death could. It was only fair. In fact, it was more than fair. I wouldn’t abandon you like you abandoned me. I would stay with you until you took your last breath.

Angry tears spilled from your eyes so filled with vitriol. Your attention was rapt with me. Mesmerized, traitor? I knew the feeling. “All that work-! After everything I did-! After coming back! You’re still going to kill me?!” You snapped at me through gritted teeth.

The fact that you felt even a fraction of my betrayal, just a small piece of my rage, satisfied me like savoring decadence after famine. Did you like the taste of treason, traitor? Did you enjoy all your “hard work” being thrown down the drain by my hands? Would you sing my praises when I’d break your body like you broke my trust? I’d make sure you would. I took no small amount of pleasure in saying, “Y̵e̵s̵.̵”

Knock-knock-knock-knock

Both our heads snapped to your front door. When we looked back at each other, I saw the horror in your face, the absolute terrible dread that consumed you. Delight shuddered through me. You feared what I hoped.

That could be your coward of a friend. Oh, this was perfect. This was perfect! The night guard, the one I should have killed a week ago! Your despair would be my wine—No, it would be the whole damn meal! I could taste the pleas and begs and sobs that would drip from your lying tongue!

I. Needed. It.

I let go of you.

You shook under my gaze, and I found it endearing, despite myself... Even when you didn’t speak, your deceiving tongue attempted to seduce me... You stumbled to the door as the knocking became more insistent. You looked through the peephole in your door, before ducking down and cursing to yourself. Would you try to run with them? How exciting...

You grabbed a coat on the rack next to you and zipped it up to your chin. Then, you opened the door just a crack and positioned your body in the doorway.

“...Good morning, officers.”

... Disappointing. I felt ash on my tongue. My head twitched. Whatever. It would still be fun watching the hope leave your eyes when I snapped their spines.

The voices from beyond my sight asked your name, and you confirmed it. “...Is everything alright? We heard yelling.”

“It’s fine,” Lies spilled from your tongue as easily as breath, but... why lie to them now? “I was just fighting with my boyfriend.”

... Boyfriend? Stupid.

“Alright... We’re investigating the disappearances of these two men.”

They offered you something, and you took it, “I know these guys.” My two party guests. “They were supposed to pick up a project I’ve been working on for the local attraction...”

“We are aware. Did you see them last night?”

You shook your head, “They never stopped by.”

... Oh, carrot. How pitiful it was to watch you sabotage yourself; to watch you dig your own grave—to watch you bury yourself deeper into my clutches. Nobody must’ve taught you good children don’t lie. How... pathetically charming. Maybe you were smarter than you let on. Maybe you knew they didn’t stand a chance against me.

“What happened to them?” You asked.

There was a tense bit of silence, before one of the voices said, “Their truck crashed a few miles down the road. Neither of them clocked into work this morning.”

“Good lord...” You sounded genuinely breathless, but I knew better. “I... I hope you find them.”

“Thank you for your time.”

You closed the door. You turned around, leaning against it. You didn’t even blink, staring at the floor.

Your shaking hands came to your face. Your breathing was heavy. You couldn’t hide from me—behind your fingers. I saw how your mask melted into horror. Tears dropped from your trembling eyes, leaking between your fingers. Was it the gravity of what you had done, or the fate that awaited you that terrified you? I found it endlessly entertaining how I was ruining you. I loved seeing you cry into your hands.

“P̷o̸o̴r̷,̵ ̴c̴a̷r̵r̶o̶t̷.̸” I tilted my head, mocking and sweet. “S̷e̶n̴t̸ ̴a̸w̶a̴y̶ ̷y̶o̴u̵r̴ ̷o̴n̶l̸y̴ ̵p̵r̵o̸t̶e̴c̵t̷i̸o̵n̶.̵ ̵W̵h̴a̵t̶ ̷w̸i̷l̵l̷ ̶y̸o̵u̸ ̴d̶o̸ ̵n̵o̵w̵?̵” They were no protection—the very thought was laughable. I only said so to make you despair.

Something cold washed over you. Not anger. Not like how I liked. This was numbness. Your eyes stopped shaking. Your trembling lip came to a neutral line. You didn’t stop crying, but the tears dropped like they didn’t come from you. Detachment. I remembered how you detached yourself from me when I threatened you. This was that. 

Curious. Did you mean to protect yourself from me?

You steeled yourself on your legs as you pushed yourself up from against the door. You walked passed me as if I didn’t exist. You walked into the kitchen. You took a knife. The same knife I would’ve killed you with the first night you had me.

...Surely, you weren’t that stupid.

And yet, you still didn’t regard me. I tilted my head to the side, heavy ears leaning. You went straight to the party room. You stood next to my party guests. Even as impassivity consumed you, I saw your throat bob. You took a deep breath in. 

Then you brought the knife down with a sick crack.

Old blood splattered across your face. You didn’t flinch. You severed his hand. 

Then, with another crack, his forearm. 

You had to put your weight on the knife to sever his arm from his shoulder.

Piece by piece, you cleaved my party guest apart. 

You... you thought you were going to survive this. You thought I would spare you. After your betrayal, you thought I would let you come back? You thought that if you crawled to me, blood on your hands and lies on your tongue, that I would forgive you? You thought you could make yourself my accomplice?

Your knife slammed hard against the back of the guest’s neck, severing his head from his body, and finishing the work I had started. Blood pooled in a way I found mesmerizing. Your eyes barely saw what was in front of you. 

You couldn’t appreciate the work you were doing. You couldn’t even see the art you were making. Every cleave, every bone snapping was wasted on your lack of vision. It was insulting. It was tactless. It was disgusting.

I couldn’t look away, not even to hurt you.

I always liked watching you work, but this. This was my work. You were clumsy. Inexperienced. I was fascinated watching you stumble your way through my domain, even in numbness. Blood didn’t paint the table and floors, it pooled across it—the difference between a master painter and a child knocking over a paint can. How endearingly stupid that you thought you could use violence as an art, as I do. If you hadn’t betrayed me, I would’ve guided you correctly.

You retrieved trash bags from your kitchen and began stuffing them full with the pieces of my party guest. Tasteless. All that work just to put him into a bag. He should be hung up on strings, a terrible and wonderful garland. 

Your knees were coated in blood when you stood up. My treacherous decayed heart skipped a beat.

You began my work on my other party guest. Piece by piece. Cleave by sever. Snap by crunch. You cut him into movable, tacky pieces. Your eyes were more lifeless than mine. I couldn’t hear your heartbeat. Even as I was transfixed with you enacting my work, I couldn’t hear your heartbeat. This didn’t... upset me as it used to. Instead, it felt a necessary sacrifice for my work you were doing.

A slam of your knife and my party guest’s head rolled off the table. You went to pick it up, but you didn’t. Your fingers stopped right as you were to grab him. You began to shake. I couldn’t see your eyes. You set the knife down and moved to the kitchen.

I knew it. You didn’t have what it takes. You didn’t have the nerve. The vision. You were weak. You were shaking as you leaned over your countertop. How lovely you looked, blood splattering your cheeks, your chest, your hands. It made me dizzy looking at you. Your head was lowered, shadowing your expression. You were turned away from me.

This was perfect. Despair bled from you like honey. You even made it easy for me to hide. Technician Gone Insane: Lone technician violently dismembers two innocents before killing themselves. All that was left was to decide how to do it. I could string you up, hang you from your precious hiding place? I could shove you in the oven and turn the heat all the way up? I could take your hands, wrap them around your blade, and make you stab yourself in the heart again and again and again and again—how romantic...

I couldn’t resist milking every last drop of despair, fear, and agony from you. “A̷l̵l̵ ̶t̷h̵a̶t̴ ̷w̴o̵r̷k̴,̶ ̶a̷n̵d̸ ̷n̵o̵w̶ ̷y̵o̴u̶ ̵g̶i̵v̸e̶ ̸u̴p̵,̵” I slammed my hands on either side of you on the counter, and you flinched. I saw tear droplets fall by your shaking fists. “Y̶o̴u̵ ̸a̶r̷e̷ ̷p̴a̴t̵h̷e̵t̸i̵c̴.̶”

Something warm touched my hand and my eyes snapped to it mechanically. Your shaking pinky was sheepishly probed at the casing of my fingers. Your head was lowered in sweet defeat, still refusing to turn and face me. This... This wasn’t a last attempt at deceit... I knew what your deceit tasted like. It was too sweet, too perfect. You weren’t direct in your touch like before, you were shy. Defeated. Shameful. This was the tenderness of something else...

I pulled away from you and you flinched, your fist closing in bitter rejection.

Oh.

Oh.

This was... need!

My head spun. I was delirious! How fitting. How excruciating! Intoxicating! Arousing! It was perfect! You needed me! You needed to touch me! You needed me, and it was real! You had a small taste of the white noise that plagued me, and now you needed my touch! Like all the times I needed yours! I felt so dizzy I was sick. My gears felt hot against my flesh, friction rubbed to sparks. My head twitched intensely. It was too perfect. It was too perfect. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yesyesyesyesyes!

“Y̴o̴u̶.̵.̸.̷” My breath choked like smoke. Maybe my gears were actually smoking... “N̴e̵e̸d̴ ̷m̴y̶ ̷c̷o̸m̸f̴o̵r̵t̸?̵”

> execute command ([COMFORT) = Yes/No?

> No. 

A strangled pitiful noise left your throat, and your head bobbed slightly. How cute... Not good enough.

“B̴e̷g̴.̵”

You trembled harder. Poor pitiful carrot. Forced to seek out the predator you fear for comfort, all because of the crushing weight of your ache. Your weakness was a... powerful aphrodisiac... I needed to hear your want. I needed to hear the sensitive truth spill from your lying tongue.

“...Please...” Your voice was quiet, barely heard under the whirring of my machinery. “...Please, touch me.”

Ecstasy shuddered through me. I was delirious. Of course you would need me, you were mine. It felt too good, it hurt. There was always pain, but I would willingly drown in this pain because you. Were. Mine. 

It couldn’t have been any clearer. You came when I called. You carried out my work. You followed my commands. You wanted my touch. How naive you were... not realizing you were mine; thinking I would just let you leave. A crime of ignorance, not malice. I could forgive ignorance... I did tend to spoil my favorites, afterall...

> execute command ([COMFORT) = Yes/No?

Bonnie was a live wire, humming with electricity to comfort you. Silly rabbit wasn’t programmed to taste true delight.

>No.

“N̴o̴.̷”

Seeing you shudder under the weight of rejection was more heavenly than any sweet touch I could offer you. Breath left you in a pained gasp. You caved in on yourself, tears dropping against your shaking fists. How deserving! How perfectly fitting. Oh, karma felt good. Or was this revenge? Whatever it was, I delighted in the sweet pleasure of it.

And then you went cold again. Did rejection hurt too much, carrot? Did you need to protect yourself? I would love to watch you fall. Like putting on a cloak of indifference, you straightened. You swabbed at your tears with your palm, but when you turned I saw they still spilled down your cheeks through eyes of stone. You ducked under my arm and I didn’t stop you.

You continued my work lifelessly. More robot than I, you cut my party guest into pieces, bit by bit. You were slow, but consistent. You didn’t stop. Old blood pooled in a lovely maroon lake at your feet that you couldn’t see—couldn’t cherish. I cherished it for you. You put him piece by piece into ugly trash bags as well.

I thought you would stop there. You didn’t. You began to clean. You monotonously tore down my masterpiece with all the passion of a pet rock. You ripped down streamers, threw out party hats, and scooped up confetti and entrails before throwing it all away in a plastic bag. Bonnie was more upset about this than I was, buzzing with code to offer you a slice of cake or to sing a birthday song before it was too late. I didn’t let him. I only watched you. I revelled in his anguish. 

After you tore down the decorations, you used towels to soak the excess blood. You bagged those too. When the blood was simply paint, you took a sponge and a soapy bucket and started to scrub. You scrubbed the floors, the walls, the table, the chairs, the ceiling (where I got a little creative). You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed—you weren’t wearing gloves, your hands gloved in blood and soap. It was oddly satisfying watching you clean up after my fun. Hypnotizing, as it was everytime you work, but something about you cleaning what I ruined made it more... intimate. Even though your blank, emotionless state expressed no intimacy. 

Intimate or not, your drudgery was castigation. Your sentence of “community service” for leaving me. Your broken spirit was penance for even thinking you could leave me. Your rejection was punishment for not needing me sooner.

When there wasn’t a spot of blood left, you threw the bucket and sponge in another trash bag. You weren’t done. Took bleach and started scrubbing again. The floors, the walls, the table, the chairs, the ceiling—even the sink you dumped out the soapy water in. You didn’t wear gloves. Your hands and fingers were chafed raw with chemical burns, but you moved as if you couldn’t feel it. 

I liked your pain; your punishment. I knew I did... But something about that bothered me. I didn’t know why. I didn’t make any move to stop you, though.

It was night by the time the kitchen was spotless. You were caked in dried blood and soap. You took off your clothes emotionlessly, you gaze empty and distant. Your arms, your face, your knees were stained with maroon, making your unmarked skin look distinctly raw. It was a lovely look on you. You stuffed your clothes in a trash bag too. 

You continued to ignore me as I followed you into your bathroom. You turned on the shower and stepped in. I hated the humidity... but I hated being alone more. I heard you scrubbing your body from beyond the shower curtain. I focused on that when rainy nights and shattered bodies haunted me. There wasn’t much steam. The shower wasn’t hot. 

When you were done, you put on something simple and started to bleach the bathroom—anything you touched. The tub, the sink, the door, the outside of the trashbags. You dumped the rest of the bleach into the bag with your clothes. 

Everything was clean. Everything was done. The only trace of my masterpiece was the broken, distant look in your eyes. 

There was one question left. What would you do with the evidence?

You stood motionless, staring at the bags. Even with my distorted perception of time, I knew you were dissociating for an unusually long period. I didn’t mind, as long as I could watch you breathe. 

You finally broke your silence, “Did you kill Cupcake?” You weren’t looking at me.

I slowly cocked my head to the side.

“My neighbor’s dog. Did you kill it?” Your voice was as dry as the desert and twice as lifeless. 

The neighbor’s dog was named Cupcake? Ironic. “Y̵e̴s̶.̶”

“Can I have its body?”

I didn’t say anything.

You breathed slowly. Purposefully. You were refusing to face the situation, keeping yourself distant. “If the animal is buried above the bodies, cadaver dogs will dig up the animal instead.”

I was more clever at hiding bodies than you. “H̴e̶'̵s̵ ̵h̶i̷d̵i̸n̴g̶.̵ ̵L̸i̷k̷e̶ ̵y̸o̶u̶ ̸d̴i̷d̶,̸ ̷c̶h̷e̴a̸t̸e̴r̶.̸”

Your gaze was completely empty. Disappointing, but expected. “I’ll find it.”

You didn’t move. You were deliberating. I know what you wanted to ask me. I was patient with you.

Finally—finally, you brought your lifeless eyes up to meet mine. Your voice was steady and cold as you spoke, “Will you let me leave to bury the bodies?”

There it was. The question that must’ve been looming over your neck as the guillotine closes in. You even managed to finally pay attention to me—you must’ve known I liked it. 

I would’ve liked to tell you no. I would’ve liked seeing exhaustion wash over you more, realizing you needed to get more creative than throwing the trash bags in some hole you dug deep in the woods. I would’ve liked seeing whatever you decide not being good enough. The walls closing in. The despair choking you whole. Realizing there was only one way out: my blade.

And yet...

Despite your betrayal, despite myself, you had charmed me. You rotten little beast... Nothing had changed from the moment I set down your knife the first night you had me: I wanted your demise, but I needed you more. I could be patient. I always had to be patient.

You would return. I didn’t need to threaten you. Unless you wanted to clean up another set of bodies. How exciting would it be if you did want that...

I leaned forward towards you, and you remained unmoving, “G̷i̷v̷e̸ ̸m̵e̴ ̷a̶ ̸g̴o̶o̸d̸b̸y̴e̸ ̶k̸i̷s̸s̴,̶ ̵c̴a̷r̴r̸o̶t̶.̵”

With all the passion of ice and the emotion of a stone, you held my jaw in a hand abused with chemical burns. You pressed your cold lips against my broken teeth, a gentle gesture dripping with domesticity and lifelessness. Even as Bonnie’s metal bones sang with delight, I knew this for what it truly was.

Proof that your autonomy was mine. You would return. Obliviousness gave way to stupidity, but stupidity can be rectified. You simply had to learn. Had you learned your lesson, carrot?

The emptiness in your eyes as you grabbed a bag filled with corpse pieces suggested you did.

─────

It was just before morning when you returned. You looked pitiful: covered in dirt, shaking, and with lifeless eyes. I would’ve loved to leave you trembling and traumatized and rejected, but you took too long, and madness consumed my mind enough to override my sadistic desire to hurt you. You nearly collapsed in my arms when I offered my hand to you. Weakness at its most charming... You didn’t have what it took to be a killer, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t like competition, anyway.

I soothed you, even though you didn’t deserve it, because it soothed me in return. I didn’t draw circles over your bruised or burned flesh—my tendons chafed against metal rods even at the thought—but I held you close to me. I adored your vulnerability, I liked having your life in my hands. I held you close enough that I could hear your heartbeat... My lulling music box...

You breathed a heavy sigh against my metal collar. A thrill traveled up my spine.

You sat in my embrace until the sun peaked past your blinds bright enough to bother me. I thought you had fallen asleep. You spoke against my chest. 

“Are you William Afton?” ...Somebody did their research. I felt your heartbeat against my chest. It was steady. I wished you were more afraid when asking me that.

“Y̵e̵s̴.̸”

You didn’t move, waiting before you asked your next question. When you spoke again, your voice was steady, “Did you kill those kids in the 80s?”

I didn’t miss a beat, “Y̵e̵s̴.̸”

I felt your breathing stop for just a moment. Other than that, you made no other movements.

“D̶o̸e̴s̵ ̴t̵h̶a̵t̶ ̴b̷o̷t̴h̴e̶r̵ ̶y̸o̶u̶?̵”

“No.” 

“L̶i̵a̸r̷.̴” I was getting better at telling when you lie. That was fine, though. I preferred to unnerve you. And it was... strangely satisfying to be recognized for my handiwork. Not even Henry realized my craft, at least not soon enough. How suffocating it was to stay hidden...

You waited again before you asked your next question, “Are you going to kill again?”

“Y̵e̵s̴.̸” I didn’t bother asking if that bothered you as well. I already knew it did.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“S̵o̸m̸e̸d̶a̸y̸.̵”

I relished how you shivered in my arms at that. It made me hold you tighter.

“...They’re going to come for you.” You said, “The attraction. I can’t keep you forever.”

“L̴e̶t̴ ̵t̵h̷e̸m̴ ̸t̷a̴k̵e̵ ̷m̶e̶.̶” I said. Killing human life again was... intoxicating. Invigorating. This body, despite its pain and decay, was strong. I needed more of that. And if I started murdering your neighbors, you’ll just be thrown in jail where I can’t touch you. The attraction on the other hand... it could be the perfect playground. Who could tell the difference between fake and real blood, anyway? “Y̵o̴u̵ ̷w̶i̵l̸l̴ ̵t̵e̸l̸l̷ ̶t̵h̷e̷m̴ ̶I̶ ̶n̷e̷e̵d̸ ̵d̵a̶i̷l̵y̷ ̷m̵a̷i̶n̴t̷e̸n̶a̴n̶c̷e̵.̴ ̸W̷h̸e̷n̷ ̷I̵’̴m̷ ̸n̶o̵t̷ ̵t̴h̷e̶i̵r̵s̵,̸ ̵I̶’̸m̴ ̸y̶o̶u̵r̸s̷.̵”

I didn’t expect resistance from you, but I did expect to see your hope crushed into despair. I wanted to see you deflate in the realization that you’d never be free of me; to crumble under the weight of being mine, resigning yourself further in my grasp. You didn’t. “Alright.” You simply said.

“C̵o̸m̸p̸l̴a̷c̷e̴n̵c̴y̶ ̶l̸o̷o̵k̴s̴ ̴g̷o̴o̶d̴ ̵o̷n̴ ̸y̴o̸u̸,̷ ̷c̵a̸r̵r̷o̶t̵.̷” I said, though I didn’t mean it. I only wanted to provoke you.

It didn’t work, “Whatever it takes to keep ‘someday’ from not being today.”

So you wanted to sell yourself to me for your survival? I accept. I... liked you. I wasn’t delusional. Despite your trauma-driven need for my touch last night, I knew your heart wasn’t mine, not in hatred or love, and that tugged at me. However, I was pacified with owning your autonomy. For now. I’m sure I could make your heart mine in time...

“A̶s̶ ̴l̸o̷n̶g̵ ̶a̶s̸ ̶y̶o̵u̶ ̶a̸r̶e̶ ̷u̶s̸e̵f̶u̵l̸ ̵a̶n̵d̴ ̴a̴m̷u̶s̵e̶ ̴m̵e̷,̴” My voice box cracked and popped with static as I interlocked my rotting fingers with yours. “I̶'̵l̷l̵ ̵k̴e̷e̵p̷ ̴y̵o̵u̴.̴”

Your hand was dead in mine, not reacting to my touch in a way that ached my rotting heart. “Then I’ll be useful and amuse you.”

> Execute([KISS])

> executing command = [KISS]

A melodic ringing snapped me out of my trance. You too paused, your gentle caress stopping. I felt you turn your head to the side.

“...Bonnie,” your voice was sore with fatigue, a low dull monotony. “It’s morning.”

Gears clicked in my head as I came back to awareness, as if I was truly waking up. I lifted up off of you. You looked deeply exhausted. Your eyes were bloodshot; dark circles shadowed under them. Your hand I held twitched when I let it go, the circulation returning to your fingertips. You didn’t even react as I tilted your chin up.

Your neck was decorated with a lovely purple. My favorite color. 

I looked at the source of the ringing. It was your thin phone. With mechanical and uneven movements, I pick it up in all its flashing lights and sound. That seemed to wake you up. You went to sit up, but I pushed you back down by your chest.

... I didn’t know how to answer it. I didn’t know if my rotting fingers had the dexterity to answer it. My fingers twitched and jerked under this realization.

I held the phone to your ear.

You pressed against its screen as I held it for you, “... Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” The nightguard.

“Hey.”

“You sound exhausted.”

You couldn’t meet my eyes, “Long night.”

“I can tell,” They said. “How is... uhm, it.”

“T̷e̴l̶l̸ ̴t̷h̸e̶m̶ ̸n̵o̴t̴h̶i̵n̵g̷.̶” 

“What?”

You faked a cough, “Sorry. It’s going well. I fixed the storage protocol it had.”

“... And it hasn’t...?”

“What, come to life and killed me yet?” Fatigue seeped into your voice as you dryly humored yourself with your own private joke. “I’m fine.”

“Good. Good. When are you going to call the police about...?”

“The body?” You exhaled as you looked to the side, “I don’t know. Soon.”

Your name was said in exasperation, “Please! Take this seriously!”

You looked at me. Your eyes were a colorless slate. Exhausted. Defeated. It was as though you knew your fate. You weren’t getting out of this alive. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll call them the day after tomorrow.”

A sigh left your phone, “Thank you... Do you wanna grab dinner before I head to work tonight? It was boring last night.”

“I̴n̴v̶i̸t̶e̷ ̵t̷h̴e̵m̶ ̷h̶e̸r̴e̷.̵” 

Your brow twinged. You didn’t say anything.

The voice on the phone asked your name in a question.

“I̴n̴v̶i̸t̶e̷ ̵t̷h̴e̵m̶ ̷h̶e̸r̴e̷,” I commanded again.

A familiar expression crossed your features, one I saw often in my past life. Of course I’d be familiar with it, I ran a pizzeria crawling with beastly little brats day in and day out. But it was a lifetime ago, and by the time I recognized it, it was already too late.

You snatched the phone out of my hand and rolled out from under me, “Dinner sounds great. Quit your job. Do not go back. Don’t even go back tonight. Don’t-”

I grabbed your ankle with a tight crushing squeeze and you hissed in pain. I dragged you back to me, ripped the phone out of your hand, and shattered it in one forceful clasp.

You stupid brat. You dull-minded idiot. Did all that exhaustion cloud your judgement? Or were you just that stupid.

A furious popping and fizzing dripped from my choking, gasping voicebox.

You winced at its screeching, but you hardened your gaze as you looked up at me, “I’m not gonna let you kill my friend.”

“L̶e̸t̷ ̸m̵e̴?̷” I laughed, but the sound that left my voicebox sounded more like snarling, choking hyenas. “Y̶o̸u̸ ̴w̸o̸n̷'̴t̷ ̵h̵a̵v̶e̶ ̸a̷ ̶c̸h̵o̷i̸c̶e̸.̵”

“Touch them,” Hot, burning venom dripped from your tongue as your gaze seared into me like a brand. “And I’ll kill you.”

Oh, I liked that. Your anger burned hot, your eyes hardening with a determination I wanted to break. I bet I could choke the rage out of you, suffocating you with fear until not even your anger could keep you warm. I bet I could make you hate me until all your thoughts were plagued by me. I bet I could keep you up at night without having to even touch you. 

You exhaled, and your sweet anger left with your breath. You touched my arm and my eyes clicked to it. You were trying to calm me again. “Look. I don’t want to fight.”

My head twitched, mechanically. “Y̷o̶u̷'̶d̶ ̵l̵o̶s̴e̶.̷”

“Hypothetically, maybe,” I didn’t know which stunned me more, your audacity or your touch. Your thumb rhythmically rubbed back and forth and it sent electricity up my arm. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m going to fix your noise protocol and then...”

My eyes snapped to yours and you shuddered.

“And then you can go back to haunt Fazbear’s or whatever. I don’t care what you do.”

I tilted my head to the side, the motion sharp and unnatural. I felt Bonnie’s ears lean heavily. “D̴o̵ ̵y̷o̶u̷ ̸t̸h̷i̶n̸k̸ ̸y̴o̴u̶'̷l̵l̸ ̷s̸u̶r̵v̷i̵v̵e̷ ̶t̶h̵i̶s̶?̶”

You swallowed, thick and anxious. Your grip on my arm tightened. You chewed your bottom lip, “I can be useful beyond just fixing your protocol. Your parts are ancient. Parts could break. You could come back to me if anything broke.”

I wanted to laugh at how pathetic you sounded, suggesting anything you could think of to try convincing me. I bet I could make you beg for your life—beg to be my personal mechanic. Beg to be mine... A thrill traveled up my spine at the thought. I opened my jaw, and my voice cracked to haunted, strangled life, “H̷y̵p̵o̷t̷h̴e̴t̸i̸c̸a̶l̸l̸y̵,̸ ̵m̶a̶y̵b̶e̷.̵”

You deadpanned, and it made you look all the more tired. You let go of my arm and my second skin itched to have you back, “I need to make food.”

I didn’t move, but I didn’t hold you back either.

You crawled out from under me, keeping your eyes on me in case I made any sudden movements. You slowly edged toward the door, still watching me. 

In an abrupt robotic jolt, I unlatched my jaw with a sharp mechanical hiss. You flinched. Funny.

You cooked as if on autopilot, barely seeing the food in front of you. At intervals, you moved your attention to me, ensuring I wasn’t about to kill you. 

When your food was done, you just sat in front of it, staring. You didn’t have an appetite. You looked back at me, “Do you eat?”

My body craved food once, long ago. My need for sleep and air outweighed my hunger and thirst, however. All of it was nothing compared to the pain.

“...So you’re just watching because...?”

I liked to watch.

You exhaled, your breath shaking. You forced yourself to eat. In between bites, you said, “I need to go out-”

I slammed a hand on the table, shaking your plate. You froze. “Y̵o̸u̶ ̶a̴r̴e̴ ̷n̸o̷t̸ ̴l̵e̴a̸v̶i̶n̴g̴.̴”

You kept my eye-contact, deliberately steady, “I can’t fix you without equipment.”

“Y̷o̶u̷ ̶h̶a̸v̶e̴ ̴e̴q̷u̵i̸p̴m̴e̴n̵t̷.̵” I said, strangled breath starting to seep louder through my voicebox.

“I did,” You said. “Before you ripped my wires apart. Twice.”

I imagined strangling you with those wires. I imagined using them as a garotte. I imagined your skin and flesh breaking with every twist of my wrists. I imagined you choking on your blood and tears, promising me you’ll stay—groveling to stay.

“Alright,” You said, your eyes wide at whatever expression I was wearing. You threw your hands up in surrender. “I’ll see if I can get it delivered. Good lord.”

My head twitched. 

When you were done forcing yourself to eat, you took your thin computer to your living room. You tried to angle your computer away from me, but I moved it back. You swallowed. I watched as you ordered wires from some kind of catalogue on the computer.

You stared at your computer screen, not moving. 

“...I have to let my friend know I’m okay or they’ll call the police.”

“Y̵o̸u̶ ̶a̴r̴e̴ ̷n̸o̷t̸ ̴l̵e̴a̸v̶i̶n̴g̴.̴”

“Yeah, you said that,” You snapped, turning to me with annoyance. The moment you laid eyes on me, your eyes wavered in fear and you turned back to your computer screen. “But you broke my phone. So.”

I said nothing.

“Don’t you think having the police involved might complicate things a little?”

“Y̷o̵u̴ ̷w̶i̶l̶l̸ ̸s̴e̵n̴d̸ ̵t̷h̷e̷m̵ ̸a̶w̷a̸y̷.̵”

Your eyes briefly flicked to me, “I told them I’d do dinner.”

“T̶h̴e̷n̸ ̶p̷r̸a̷y̵ ̴t̶h̵e̸y̴ ̴d̸o̷n̵'̶t̵ ̶c̴o̶m̷e̴ ̵t̵o̸ ̸y̷o̷u̴.̶”

You stared ahead of you, eyes fixing with a cold chill, “You are as dark as you look.”

I stared at you. Your gaze set so assuredly. Stubbornly. I needed to break that. 

> Execute command [HOLD_HANDS] 

I slipped my hand into yours—the same hand I held the night before—interlocking our fingers and pressing into your couch with a slow crack of your knuckles. You winced under the pressure, sucking in a breath of air. I leaned closer to you. “D̶o̴ ̴y̷o̵u̸ ̶w̵a̶n̴t̷ ̴t̷o̵ ̸l̵e̵a̶v̵e̵?̵”

“What-?”

“D̶o̵ ̵i̷t̶.̵ ̶L̶e̸a̶v̷e̵.̶” I unhinged my jaw, and your eyes fell to my flesh beyond my mask.

You swallowed, and you couldn’t drag your eyes from my corpse, “...Why?”

“W̶h̸e̷n̴ ̵y̸o̸u̷ ̷r̵e̴t̶u̸r̸n̵,̶ ̶I̷ ̴w̴o̵n̶'̸t̴ ̸b̶e̴ ̶h̸e̸r̶e̶.̵ ̸I̴'̸l̷l̸ ̸b̸e̷ ̷w̷i̴t̴h̸ ̶t̶h̸e̶m̶.̵ ̸T̵h̴e̵y̷ ̷c̶a̸n̵'̴t̶ ̴r̸u̸n̸ ̶f̴r̵o̴m̶ ̴m̵e̸.̶” My breath wheezed as I leaned closer to you. I could feel the heat emanating from your blood, so warm against my cold, lifeless body.“I̸'̸l̵l̷ ̸m̵a̶k̸e̸ ̸i̴t̴ ̶l̵a̵s̶t̴.̵ W̷e̴'̸l̸l̴ ̴p̶l̸a̸y̶ ̶g̶a̵m̴e̶s̵.̷. ̶A̴n̸d̴ ̵w̷h̷e̷n̷ ̷I̴'̶m̶ ̴d̷o̴n̴e̶,̸ ̵I̸'̵l̴l̷ ̷c̸o̷m̷e̴ ̴b̷a̵c̸k̸ ̷f̶o̶r̷ ̴y̵o̵u̵.” I almost wished you would leave. If it weren’t for the terrible white noise that plagued me, I would’ve encouraged you to. I tapped into Spring Bonnie’s voice, “I̷'̸l̷l̴ ̴t̸h̵r̷o̶w̸ ̸y̶o̶u̵ ̵a̴ ̸p̸a̵r̸t̷y̶.̷ I̵'̸l̵l̵ ̸g̴i̵v̸e̶ ̶y̴o̵u̷ ̵a̴ ̷g̸i̵f̴t̷.̴” I tilted my head, and my ears felt heavy as they leaned with a terrible creak. “W̶o̴u̸l̷d̶ ̷y̴o̵u̶ ̴l̷i̷k̶e̴ ̷a̴ ̶g̴i̷f̸t̶,̵ ̷c̷a̵r̶r̵o̴t̶?̸”

I wanted to see you shrink in fear. I wanted to see you burn with hatred. I wanted to feel your shock, horror, disgust, anger, despair, terror, desperation, agony—I wanted to pull emotion out of you like cotton candy. You gave me none of that. You gave me nothing. Your eyes glazed with a cold, numbness. How frustrating! How utterly unsatisfying. 

“No,” You said, and your eyes were as lifeless as mine. 

My breath wheezed, yearning for more from you. “D̶o̴ ̴y̷o̵u̸ ̶w̵a̶n̴t̷ ̴t̷o̵ ̸l̵e̵a̶v̵e̵?̵” I asked again.

“No,” You turned back to your computer, your hand still in my possession. “I don’t.”

I tilted your head back to me, and you let me do it. As disappointing as your response was, there was something that I liked about that. “G̸o̷o̵d̸ ̴c̵a̵r̸r̷o̵t̵.̴”

You didn’t respond. 

I watched you as you worked. You were focused on something unfamiliar. Whatever it was, it didn’t have to do with me. I didn’t care. I liked watching you work. You were slow, though. You only had one hand to use your keyboard and mouse. I wouldn’t let go of your hand. I could feel your pulse in between your fingers, blood rushing in a rhythmic tempo. I was lulled by it. Your living body was my music box.

After some time, you cast your eyes in my direction, “I need my other hand.”

I executed the command squeeze. You winced.

“You could lay your head on my lap?” You asked.

How patronizing. I hated that you knew I needed to touch you. I hated that you used it to placate me. I hated that it worked. You vile rotten little thing. I squeezed your hand tighter still, and a sharp gasp left your lips.

“Okay, ‘no’ would’ve worked.” You said between strained breaths. “How about I sit in your lap?”

A low hiss escaped from my machinery. It was nothing to you. Touching me was nothing to you, while it was everything to me. I resented you for that. I squeezed tighter still.

“Ow!” Your hiss of pain echoed mine as you cursed under your breath, trying to pry my hand off of yours, “Ow-ow-ow! Is there no winning with you?!”

The fact that you were still alive was winning, did you not realize how lucky you were?

“You can have my hand, just-!” Your fingers were useless as you tried pulling my grip free of your hand. It wouldn’t work, but I enjoyed feeling you try, “Please-!”

> execute([RELEASE])

You swiped your hand back to your chest too quickly. I was almost in shock. But then, I was enraged. Didn’t Bonnie want to hold you as much as I did? Didn’t he need your touch just as much?! Stupid soft-hearted rabbit! I would rip his wires from my veins if it meant being rid of his control. 

You were rubbing your hand rhythmically while scanning me, your eyes puzzled and searching. It made me more annoyed. I felt my voicebox pop and fizzle in agitation, and you shied from me. Then, something calculative crossed your eyes. I’d seen it before, when you worked. When you solved the mystery of my voicebox, my storage protocol, my true nature. 

You held out your hand to me, a sacrificial offering, “I want you to hold me, Bonnie. Will you please hold me?”

Rage calmed like cool water over heated metal. In a moment, I was spellbound by your words. I want you to hold me. Will you please hold me. I want you to hold me. Will you please hold me. I want you. Please hold me. I want you. Please hold me. I want you. Please. I want you. Please. I want you. Please.

Oh, you sweet liar. You lovely little snake. Pleasure trailed up my spine like a drug. You didn’t want to touch me. You were repulsed by me. That didn’t matter—you knew it didn’t matter and so did I. 

I inclined closer to you, and you drew back by instinct. I liked that. Bonnie was a live wire with the desire to do as you begged. I placed my large hand so close to your thigh, leaning over you. “C̵o̷m̸m̸a̴n̷d̸,̷” My choked breath felt heavy under the weight of my pleasure. “n̷o̵t̶ ̸r̶e̷c̵o̷g̴n̸i̴z̶e̸d̵.̷ R̴e̸p̶e̸a̴t̵ ̷y̷o̸u̸r̸ ̶r̷e̴q̴u̷e̷s̸t̵.̴”

Your face scrunched up in an annoyance that I found delightful. I could practically feel you restraining yourself from rolling your eyes or making some snarky quip. However, clever carrot that you were, you understood your place. You were my hostage. “I want you to hold me. Please hold me, Bonnie.”

“A̶g̶a̴i̵n̶.̵” My voice was more my own than Bonnie’s.

You swallowed, “Please hold me, B-”

“A̶g̶a̸i̴n̵.̷” 

“...Please hold me.”

A strange sound left my voicebox; it sounded like the dying of glass and metal in a broken whine. My gears felt hot. My flesh felt wired. My head felt too light, it hurt. I wanted you. I wanted to taste you. I would have you.

I could hear your pulse echo in my head. I would feel it against my teeth.

You shouldn’t have been so sweet to me.

I held out my hand to you; rotten fur and soiled metal. I needed you to initiate. I needed you to want it. 

You gently, tentatively, reluctantly placed your hand in mine. 

Your surrender was ecstasy.

I affectionately wrapped my claws around your wrist. How lucky you were to be the object of my affection, even if only for now... Your gut reaction was to tense, but you didn’t pull away. Good carrot.

I dragged your forearm to my teeth, my jaw a breath away from your veins. I could smell your blood beneath your skin. I felt your pulse through your wrist. Your heart raced. I loved when I made your heart race. “D̷o̷ ̵y̵o̵u̵ ̵l̷i̴k̸e̸ ̶m̶e̷,̶ ̷c̷a̵r̸r̴o̶t̵?̸” If you said anything other than ‘yes’, I would break your arm.

You blinked, stalled for just a second, before you said, “Sure.”

My mechanical eyes focused on you, my grip tightening on your wrist, and my head twitching to the side. I couldn’t tell if that satisfied me.

“I mean, yes!” Whatever expression I was making moved you to correct yourself, “I like you.”

My voice box reverberated with a low, pleased purr. I unlatched my jaw in a squelching and sticking release, delighted with how you reacted in disgust. I angled my jaw over your arm—I needed your reaction. I would sear the image of your expression in my memory forever: eyes widened with the horror of realization.

Slowly, I sank my teeth—both my teeth—into your flesh.

You were warm. You were alive. I could feel your pulse directly on my corpse. Pain and pleasure mingled in searing intensity when I touched you with my actual body. I wanted it. I wanted you seared onto me like a brand. And I wanted to be a scar you could never heal from. 

You choked a gasp, your free hand digging into my shoulder as you braced yourself. Pathetic. I bit enough to bruise, not to break skin. I should’ve torn your flesh apart. But... you were so sweet to me, how could I deny you a reward? I had always been guilty of spoiling my favorites...

I let you go, and your body relaxed. Your breath came in heavy, hot pants, as if you too were coming down from a high. 

Maybe you were? Maybe you liked my attention? 

... No... There was something missing when I looked at you. I forced myself not to think about it. I wouldn’t let your detachment ruin my satisfaction.

Your eyes widened with renewed horror when you saw two sets of bitemarks. Pleasure shuddered through me. I wasn’t done. 

I slowly pulled you towards me, and you let me. Strange. I thought you would struggle. You didn’t. I angled my jaw over your shoulder, my mouth large enough to stretch from your neck to your upper arm. You shivered with anticipation underneath my cold, simulated breath. I adored how you shook in my grasp. “D̴o̸ ̸y̷o̸u̶ ̶w̵a̴n̶t̵ ̵t̴o̷ ̸l̶e̸a̵v̵e̷ ̵m̸e̸,̷ ̸c̴a̴r̶r̴o̶t̷?̶” If you said anything other than ‘no’, I would tear your throat out.

Your throat was close enough to me that I heard you swallow. “No,” Your voice was tense, your breath strained. You knew what I was going to do. “I want to stay.”

I sank my teeth into you again, my voicebox grinding in a low delight. You sucked in air through your teeth, bracing against my shoulder again. My grip tightened around your wrist, while my other hand came around your waist. In one sharp motion, I pulled your body flush to mine. Your gasp was that of a lover’s... It made my decayed heart skip.

I didn’t break skin again. You lucky thing. I wished my tongue hadn’t decayed to nothing so I could pull sounds from you with it.

I let you go with that sickening squelch again, and your body went slack. Your chest heaved. You were sweating. Everything about you was so alive and I loved that I tasted it. I deserved to taste it. You belonged to me. Your compliance was proof of that.

I let go of your wrist and moved my hand to your waist so that I was holding both your hips. I relished how your heartbeat raced when I lightly nuzzled your collarbone, hardly touching you—a facsimile of affection I yearned to pull fear from. I continued to descend past your chest and sternum. Pleasure cooed from me as I felt your hyperventilating. I angled my jaw over one side of your waist, my teeth stretching from the last of your ribs to the tip of your pelvic bone.

By instinct, your hand came to the back of my head. I adored that. You weren’t trying to pull me off, but I could tell you wanted to. You knew who you belonged to.

I let you breathe. I let you adjust. I let you get used to my presence so close, so intimate. I wanted to lower your heart rate so I could make it race again.

When your sweat cooled, and you could finally match my gaze, I asked, “D̶o̴ ̸y̸o̶u̴ ̷b̴e̴l̵o̷n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̸m̷e̵,̵ ̴c̸a̷r̴r̴o̵t̵?̵” If you said anything other than ‘yes’, I would gut you.

You made a face. Your face scrunched in annoyance. You didn’t like it. It didn’t matter if you didn’t like it, I still owned you, and it pissed me off you hesitated. My grip on your waist tightened, my mechanical eyes narrowing.

You sighed, as if it was a chore and how that infuriated me, “Yes.”

My claws dug into your hips. Furious fizzing and popping came from my voicebox. You didn’t believe it. You would soon. 

You cringed against my touch, before something akin to a whine left your throat, spoiled brat, “Don’t make me say it...” 

I buried my teeth into the flesh of your hip, blood spilling from you in a euphoric warmth. You tasted like iron and salt and a pleasure sweeter than cake. Like scratching a maddening itch, strangled curses left your throat as your nails dug into the back of my head. You choked on the pain and I savored it.

“Fuck-FUCK!” You swore, yanking at my ears in a way that sent a thrill down my spine, “I belong to you! I belong to you!”

I abruptly let you go, and you gasped. Blood soaked your shirt, chilling your warm body with a shudder. Tears welled in your eyes that you refused to let spill, and that excited me more than if you cried openly. It was cute.

I tilted my head in a lie of innocence, rubbing my thumbs along your waist—including over your freshly made wound. You hissed in pain, and I could see the tears threaten to fall. I wanted to see you cry. I wanted you to try your hardest to resist tears, only to give in. I wanted you to surrender.

You didn’t. You swallowed your pain and glared at me, “Asshole!” You snapped, though there was hardly any venom in it. Mostly pain. Funny.

I descended further, pushing your legs up, your back pressed against the arm of the couch. For the first time, your face flushed with exhilarating warmth. Electricity washed over my metal and skeletal spine. Your breath heaved—not in pain, but in hot anticipation. I could eat your attention, and it was mouthwatering. In a show of faux affection, I nuzzled against your inner-thigh, and you grabbed my rabbit ears in a way that made me see stars. I could feel your pulse from your femoral artery, a sensation that made me dizzy. It was as fast as a bunny’s...

“Bonnie-!” You gasped as I angled my jaw over your inner thigh.

“D̷o̶ ̴y̶o̴u̸ ̵w̵a̶n̷t̵ ̶m̶e̶,̷ ̶c̵a̴r̸r̸o̴t̵?̵” I said, my mock air cold and heavy against your thigh. If you said anything other than ‘yes’, I would tear your leg from your body.

“Th-!” You squeaked, flushed with warmth from cheeks to chest. “There?!”

... Okay, I’d make an exception for that.

I relished how you flustered, a hiss of air leaving your teeth as you couldn’t bear to look at me. I caressed your thigh with my thumb, a coaxing reminder of who was holding you. You could be so lovely when you unraveled...

You swallowed, heavy and hot, before slamming your eyes shut and nodding. “Yes. I want you.” You said, and it was closer to a delightful whine than the resolve you wanted it to be.

I was slow. I wanted you to feel it. I wanted you to enjoy it. I wanted you to desire my body as much as I desired yours. I was gentle. I only bruised you, even though I wanted to make you bleed again. You should be thanking me. Praising me. Loving me. It infuriated me that you didn’t. I was so good to you, and you were awful to me. But the way you gripped me and covered your own mouth to stop from making any noise was enough to sedate me.

I gave my best attempt at sucking, though it ended up more of a gnaw. There was no command prompt for ‘suck’ and my lungs were littered with holes.

I drank what emotion spilled from you, indulging in how I could make you feel. Your eyes met mine, and I shivered. Your pupils were moons, your cheeks flushed hot, you bit your trembling lip. Pleasure warmed me in a heavy shudder—fuck, I could’ve moaned under your blushed attention.

I let you go. You let out a heavy exhale, closing your eyes in relief. Did you feel cold without me? Did you miss me already? I wished you did.

> execute command ([HOLD_HANDS]) = Yes/No?

Oh, excellent idea, Bonnie.

>Yes.

I took your hand, the one I held the night before, and held it to my maw. I rubbed your soft, warm hand against my tattered lips, feeling every callous and every tendon in your flesh. I wished it mattered to you as much as it mattered to me... You were still disoriented by my last bite. I found that so endearing; my unmoving smile could’ve widened. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to kiss it tenderly, or bite it viciously.

“Whatever it is,” You said with exhausted breath, your head falling back on the couch’s arm. “The answer is yes. Just do it.”

Bite it is.

I slammed my jaw around your palms and fingers. You screamed, grabbing at my jaw to pull me off. Blood splattered against my face, dripping into your couch. You were trying to rip your hand out of my bite, but it was only tearing your flesh more. I loved how you squirmed in pain, twisting and writhing to free yourself. Your eyes welled with those unshed tears, as you seethed through your clenched teeth. 

Your pain was candy to me. I would make myself the center of your psyche, one way or another.

“Let go! Let go!” You were pulling on my lower jaw, futile and weak and so entertaining. You were so helpless, it charmed me. Finally—finally—the icing on the delicious cake, tears you wanted to hold back dropped down your lovely cheeks. Poor thing. Affection and pleasure washed over me. You shut your eyes tight, your weak resistance slowing, “Please-!”

I let go, and you pulled your bloodied hand to your chest. You cradled it. Your whole body was shaking as you took deep, tentative breaths. You were calming yourself. Did I make you anxious, carrot? I felt Bonnie at the edges of my mind yearn to comfort you with his protocol. I took great pleasure in denying him and you.

“Bastard!” You cursed sharply under your breath before glaring at me. I found it amusing you still had the spirit to glare. “I need this hand! To fix you!”

I tilted my head. It was slow, mechanical.

You growled under your breath, “Don’t play innocent. My blood is staining your teeth!”

I thought you’d at least have the tact to play along. “P̶a̶t̸h̵e̵t̶i̶c̶.̷”

“Pathetic? Pathetic?” Your voice rose in anger. Brave. Stupid. “If you weren’t a seven-foot metal monster-”

I held your hand to my muzzle, sinking my claws into your wound with a sharp hiss from you. “I̵t̴'̶s̵ ̵b̸a̵r̸e̶l̵y̵ ̵a̶ ̸s̷c̸r̵a̶t̵c̴h̵.̶’”

You swiped your hand back, and I let you. “It still hurts.” You agreed? I was trying to provoke you... 

I found it odd how cavalier you were being. You were frustrated, but you were masking your fear with it. Was it a defense mechanism? Did you feel protected when you hid your fear from me? I wanted to pull it out of you and make you face it. 

You groaned, “I need to wash these...”

When you stood up, I grabbed your wrist and pulled you back on the couch.

“Y̴o̵u̷ ̷a̷r̶e̷.̸.̵.̴” What was the right word? “.̶.̶.̴c̸o̴m̸p̶l̵a̷c̸e̷n̵t̵.̷”

“...That’s not the word I’d use.”

“D̸o̷ ̴y̵o̸u̶ ̵t̶h̷i̴n̷k̵ ̸I̵ ̴w̷o̷n̴'̵t̷ ̴k̸i̴l̶l̵ ̴y̷o̴u̸?̶”

You furrowed your brow. Emotions I didn’t recognize crossed your features. Was it calculation? Confusion? I wasn’t sure, and the puzzle of it made me tilt my head, heavy and broken rabbit ears shifting to one side. After choosing your words carefully, you said, “I wouldn’t let you bite me if I didn’t think you were going to kill me.”

My head twitched mechanically. My gears churned. I didn’t understand what you meant.

You picked up on this—something I hated, I didn’t like being read. “You need... this,” You took my hand in yours, the bloody hand. It sent a thrill up my arm, “Right?”

I stared at your hand obsessively. Furiously. Rage encompassed my entire being, it burned my metal bones. As if it wasn’t humiliating enough that I relied on you—that I keeled at your feet just to taste you, and rotted in desperation when you were gone—how dare you point it out? Did you think you were safe? Did you think that my neurosis protected you? I loathed my attachment to you. I loathed you. And when I was done with you, I would break your body until you were unrecognizable.

My voice box glitched and popped in my rage, “T̴h̷a̸t̵ ̷d̷o̸e̵s̵ ̷n̴o̵t̷ ̷m̶a̵k̷e̴ ̶y̴o̵u̵ ̴s̴a̴f̸e̷.̵” I hissed.

“Don’t be mad!” You said, aghast at my reaction, “I don’t care what you need, you’re a seven-foot-tall monster bunny robot!”

“R̶a̵b̸b̵i̶t̶.̴”

“Whatever!” You sucked a sharp breath in through your teeth, “Look. You need me for...” You squeezed my hand and I felt that thrill again, “this. And I need you to not kill me. I have a feeling it’s not in your nature to... not kill me. So.” You braced yourself, setting your jaw and looking at me with tired, worried eyes, “We need each other.”

My rage drained.

You needed me.

I would’ve preferred you needed me in the same way I needed you. But... I didn’t hate it. You were right. It was in my nature to kill you. I wanted to, almost as much as I needed to have you. It felt a... decent trade. Your life for your touch.

It wasn’t my first partnership. I knew how to get along. Of course, in this body it was less of a partnership and more of a menage a trois.

“I̸t̵'̶s̴ ̷i̷n̸ ̴m̷y̴ ̷n̶a̶t̸u̵r̶e̶ ̷t̶o̵ ̵h̸u̵r̷t̵ ̶y̷o̵u̴.̷” It was less of a warning, and more of a promise.

You shrugged, “I have a high pain tolerance.”

My wicked heart skipped a beat.

When I didn’t say anything more, you swallowed as you masked your fear in dry humor, “So... Can I wash these? Or would you have me die of sepsis?”

I didn’t respond to you. You eyed me as if you expected me to stop you when you stood up. I watched you carefully. I followed you when you went to your kitchen sink.

You checked your wounds gingerly. I was careful. I only pierced your waist and hand, and I didn’t bite clean through like I could’ve. My end of our deal. You still rasped through your teeth as you took a washcloth to your waist and palm.

You ignored my presence when I followed you to your closet. You pulled out a first aid kit. You began treating your wounds with something that made you hiss. You picked up some bandages, and I grabbed your wrist. You looked at me with tired eyes. Your end of our deal. You set the bandages down.

“The wires won’t get here for another two hours,” You said, avoiding my eye contact. “I can’t do anything until then.”

My eyes were transfixed on my bite marks, flaunting who owned you. Mine...

You tentatively made your way to your room. You stood by your bed, one hand on the sheets. You were gauging my reaction. You were asking for permission. How cute. I was tempted to deny you.

I nodded to the bed. You shivered, and I found that delightful.

You laid on the bed, and I stood next to you, watching you. A look of discomfort crossed your face when you saw me watching you. You curled away from me.

> execute command ([FOLLOW]) = Yes/No?

> Yes.

You flinched when you felt my weight on the bed. I slipped my hands over your waist—over my lovebites—and hugged you tight to me. I could smell you. You were so warm. I loved feeling you. I could hear your heartbeat this close. It was my lullaby. 

Could you fall asleep like this? I wouldn’t mind if you did... that meant you were willingly making yourself vulnerable to me. I also wouldn’t mind if you didn’t, that meant you were too scared of me to listen to your own body.

This partnership... I didn’t mind it. For now. When I grow bored, I could just kill you. You could be fun for me, though. I wondered how far you would go to cater to my desires; how far you’d be willing to stretch if I threatened you—threatened your friend. You did say you had a high pain tolerance, after all. I would enjoy pushing you to your limit.

For now, your heartbeat was enough to sate me.

Apparently, you did fall asleep, because you didn’t stir when there was a knock at the door. I squeezed you until you were gasping and choking awake, clawing at my arms tight around your torso.

“Shit...” You rubbed your eyes with your wrist. Your voice was hoarse with fatigue. Despite how I woke you, your gentle hand came to caress my cheek anyway, “Hi, Bonnie...” You knew how to play your role well.

I leaned into your touch. I wished I could say it was only Bonnie...

“What time is it...?” You blindly palmed your bedside table. There was a wire, unconnected to anything. You groaned, “Oh right. My phone.”

You stumbled out of bed. I wondered if you were numb where I held you. I hoped so. I followed you as you yawned, meandering to your living room. When you saw your clock, you moved to your front door. I knew you were only grabbing your delivered supplies, but it still didn’t stop the panicked rage that swept over me as I saw you open the front door. Even Bonnie’s metal wires were frenzied with command prompts to stop you.

My madness calmed when you closed the door behind you. You looked exhausted. You held up the wires, shaking them, “Shall we?”

I held out my hand to you, and you took it. 

With your thin computer set up, we sat at your kitchen table. You drank a cold, brightly colored drink that looked like antifreeze. You plugged your wires into your computer, holding the ends meant to go into me in your hand.

“Uhm...” You looked to the side bashfully, “I need to put this in you...”

I only stared at you.

“Do you want them in the back or the front?”

“F̶r̴o̴n̷t̵.̴”

You swallowed, “Are you sure? I have to dig through all that-”

“F̶r̴o̴n̷t̵.̴”

You stalled, “...Does it hurt?”

“L̸i̷k̴e̸ ̷a̵ ̴m̴o̷t̸h̸e̷r̸f̴-̷-̶c̴k̴-̷-̴.̵” My voicebox glitched. Dumb rabbit.

You recoiled from me, not expecting that answer. You chewed your bottom lip, “Do you want to do it?”

I twitched, “I̸ ̵c̷a̸n̵'̴t̴.̸” Even if I did have the dexterity, I wouldn’t know where to put them.

You took a shaky breath. You held the wires over my chest.

You weren’t moving.

“S̵t̴o̴p̸ ̷h̴e̴s̶i̸t̸a̷t̴i̸n̵g̸.̵”

“Give me more than five seconds!” You snapped at me, “It’s not so easy...”

“D̸i̸d̸n̷'̸t̶ ̴s̸t̴o̸p̶ ̴y̴o̶u̷ ̶b̴e̸f̵o̵r̸e̶.̵”

“That was before I knew you could feel!” You huffed, dropping the wires in your lap. “And also were violently murderous.”

My head inclined to the side, slow and mechanical. “D̵o̸n̷'̵t̴ ̶y̷o̷u̴ ̴w̵a̷n̸t̵ ̶t̴o̸ ̸h̶u̶r̶t̴ ̴m̵e̴?̶ ̸I̴ ̵l̷i̸k̵e̶d̴ ̴h̵u̸r̸t̸i̸n̵g̴ ̵y̴o̵u̶.̷”

My taunt did nothing, to my chagrin. “Yeah well, not all of us are sadists.”

I bet I could change that, if I made you hate me enough. I just couldn’t seem to get you angry past moderately frustrated. Maybe if I hurt your friend... Another time, another place. “C̷o̴w̶a̷r̵d̵.̸”

“Alright, relax.” You rolled your eyes, “You have to promise not to murder me when it hurts.”

“N̵o̴ ̵p̵r̸o̴m̸i̶s̵e̴s̴.̵”

You exhaled, shaky and tired, “Of course.”

You swallowed as your trembling hands approached my viscera. It burned as you prodded into me, but at least I could move. Fizzing and popping spilled from my voicebox like ichor. I slammed my claws on your table and you flinched. You worked faster in your shaking fear, and I knew it was over when I felt that jolt of electricity through me. That terrible terrible suspension.

A low, dark growl—choking and strangled—left my voicebox. You swiped your hands back to yourself, wiping your soiled fingers on your legs.

Without another word, you were typing on your computer. Code flashed across your screen, a language familiar, and yet a puzzle to me. Henry always had to be different in his programming... And you, with your quick wit, figured it out in nearly a few days. Damn you... 

My voicebox wheezed with strangled breath and I gripped the table, digging lacerations into it.

Your eyes briefly met mine, before returning to the computer, “...Can you feel this, too?”

Every. Pressed. Key. “F̵i̴n̸i̸s̸h̶ ̷u̸p̸.̴”

You continued typing, “Don’t fuss. I’m working on it.”

I sneered, low and threatening.

“I mean, thank you, Bonnie, for being so patient and gracious.”

Better.

I could watch you like this. Your typing that soothed me, your breathing that calmed me, your heartbeat that lulled me. My mind... it felt less fragmented the more time I spent with you. I was still mad, no doubt, but the madness felt less inflamed when with you. I doubt that it was you specifically who did that—typing, breathing, and heartbeat could come from any living creature. But whether or not someone else could satisfy me enough to keep me from killing them... I wasn’t entirely sure. You had a unique trait: you were exciting enough to keep me entertained, and useful enough to keep alive.

It was almost as if you were made to be mine. Even Bonnie favored you.

Steadily, my strangled breath diminished to a low hum, and my grip loosened to a gentle rest. You were... useful. I didn’t have to kill you after you fixed me. You said it yourself, my body was decay incarnate and you were a perfect technician. I could keep you. I would make you beg for it, of course, but you could be mine more permanently than I originally planned. As long as you kept soothing me... and entertaining me.

There was a click. You let out an exhale and leaned back in your chair. Time had slipped through my fingers again. It was fine. Because you put me back together, and I would enjoy making you beg to be mine.

You cracked your neck, “Finally. It’s done."

> Execute([MOVE])

error

failed to execute command

[STORAGE PROTOCOL] = active

...What.

You leaned forward, tilting your head as you looked at me, “Can you move, Bonnie?”

> Execute([MOVE])

error

failed to execute command

[STORAGE PROTOCOL] = active

You exhaled in relief, “Thank goodness.”

You... You LIAR!

“Oh, come on,” You, filthy snake and venomous tongue, raised your eyebrows. “You had to see this coming.”

How dare you... You vile CHEATER!

You turned to your computer and started typing, before it sang like a phone. Another lie.

Rage consumed me, and it was fire. You filthy LIAR! You rotten little BASTARD! When I’d move—I’d rip you apart by the joints! I’d savor every tear and pop from your body! I’d tear you open and drink from your viscera! I’d see you BURN! YOU’D BURN YOU’D BURN YOU’D BURN YOU’D BURN I’D KILL YOU I’D KILL YOU I’D KILL YOU I’D KILL YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I’D KILL YOU I’D KILL YOU I’D KILL YOU I’D KILL YOU!!!

Your name was said by your coward of a friend from your computer, but I was dripping with too much malice to process it, “What the hell? Where have you been, I’ve been calling you like crazy!”

“My phone broke,” Liar liar liar liar LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR. “Did you quit yet?”

“Did I quit? No! I’m literally in the car right now heading to your place to see if you got MURDERED!”

“Don’t!” Your eyes fell on me, fear cracking through your lies. I’d tear your friend apart in front of you. I’d rub your face in their bloodied organs. I’d make you eat their flesh. “I’m gonna come to you. Look, it’s an insane story. You need to call your work and have them pick up the animatronic from my place. Before midnight. I’m not gonna be here. And then you need to quit. And probably skip town.”

“What?!”

True desperation seeped into your voice, the kind I longed to pull from you. You said your cowardly friend’s name, “Please! This is important. We can talk about it in person. I-” You swallowed. “I mean it. Please.”

You were pathetic. You were weak and wretched and stupid and dishonest and I was disgusted I even entertained the idea of humoring you. You would pay for betraying me...

The voice on your computer sighed, “Okay. Come soon.”

You exhaled in tense relief, “I’ll be right there.” You ended the call.

You closed your thin computer. There was silence. My eyes burned into yours because that’s all I could do.

“You’re mad.” You finally regarded me, you traitor. “Don’t be.”

Oh! Well, now that you’ve said that, EVERYTHING IS ALL BETTER NOW.

“I really did fix the protocol that makes you go towards sounds,” You held my gaze, and I hated you for it. I hated you so much. I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you- “And the storage protocol is only temporary. After tonight, it’ll be gone.”

This was worse. This wasn’t about stopping me. This wasn’t about some greater good you were attempting to achieve. This was about leaving me. You wanted to leave me. 

You heartless cheater.

“I don’t care what you do after this,” Why didn’t you care? What was it about me that left you unfeeling? Did I have to make you hate me for you to care? You were cruel. “But remember I helped you. It’s a fair trade. Your freedom for my freedom.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. And if you thought it was fair, you had no idea what I was giving up to let you go.

You held my face in your hands, and it burned me. How could you touch me after trying to leave me? How could you caress me as if you loved me when you were trying to get away? I wouldn’t let you—I couldn’t let you. You were mine. You were MINE! “Goodbye, Bonnie. I bet I’ll be seeing you on the news.”

Metal and flesh alike screamed internally in agony when you let me go. My rage was spoiled with Bonnie’s sorrow, but I felt it all twice. How could you leave me? After I decided you were mine, you left. After being willing to SPARE you, you left! You were heartless and cruel and weak and terrible and pathetic and mine and mine and mine and mine and mine and how could you leave me when I needed you?!

You closed the front door behind you and white noise never consumed me more. 

You wanted to convince me to let you go. You fabricated this ‘fair trade’ in an attempt to pacify me. To make it seem as though you weren’t worth the effort. You weren’t. You were a liar and cruel and wretched. That didn’t matter. You were mine. You couldn’t escape me. I wouldn’t allow it.

Both my metal and my rotting heart broke in the white noise of your home.

“...And they’re not home?” A deep voice said as your front door opened.

“Nah,” Another voice responded. “We can just load him up in the truck and haul him over. The new night guard is already on duty.”

“What time were we supposed to pick him up? I don’t like being around that thing at night...”

“Relax! They said at midnight, or something. Let’s just get this over with...”

“Alright... I swear, if this thing starts moving while we’re driving...”

> [PLAY MODE] = Active

> enter [GAME]: . . .

It was bright outside when you came down from your hiding place. Your legs kicked for purchase, but there was nothing, so you dropped in front of me, falling back on your ass. The pained groan that left your lips gave me paltry satisfaction.

Your eyes widened when you saw the scattered remains of your ladder and the damage done to your ceiling. You groaned again, though this time it sounded more like a whine.

You turned to me, "You were... upset."

You think?

"...Interesting protocol. But it does make you more life-like, I guess..." You rolled your shoulders. You must've slept on the floor. I should've been there to watch, selfish carrot. "I was able to get some research done while I was, uhm, hiding. I might be able to translate that little box of yours today."

I burned my eyes into yours.

"Meaning..." You shied away from me, "I can turn off that storage protocol by tonight. Maybe even today."

It should've been done yesterday.

Your eyes fell to my hands. You took my fingers in yours, and I closed my eyes. Feeling your warm fingers lace with mine was a touch of heaven. "...What is this?"

You were looking at the old blood staining my fingers. You were lucky it wasn't your blood. Had you not been a cheater, it would've been.

Your eyes betrayed your imagination; flitting through different possibilities. Rust, paint, tomato sauce—maybe you thought it had always been there and you just hadn't noticed it. Or, if you were clever enough, you were suspecting something was wrong with me. You were already talking to me as if I was sentient. Regardless, I enjoyed the nervous anxiety you regarded me with.

Like the perfect victim, you shook your head clear of your suspicions, and said, "We'll get it done today, Bonnie." You dropped my hand and pretended not to notice as my eyes followed your leaving figure.

You left me. You always left me, staying just out of my sight, hiding from me—refusing me. It made the rust in my veins boil and my mildewy casing itch. I hated that you refused me. Leaving me to be consumed by white noise and madness. Did you do it on purpose? Did you enjoy torturing me? You heartless prick.

I was left to listen. It’s all I could do; left to beg for scraps at your table. Movement, shuffling, doors opening and closing, things being moved around, birds outside (too loud, covering your sounds)—no dog barking. When you passed back into my vision, you had your jacket and keys.

“I’ll be back,” You said absently, fumbling through your keys.

Don’t. Don’t you dare leave me again. I’d dig my nails into your body if I could, fixing you to the wall so you couldn’t leave.

“I’m just gonna pick up a few things and-” You stuttered when you saw me, eyes wide in terror in the way I so loved. You swallowed your panic, casting your eyes to the side bashfully—no, ashamedly. You knew leaving me was wrong. Bad. Carrot.

And then you touched me. Just a gentle caress on the cheek. It didn’t make sense. You were clearly afraid and disgusted by me. That didn’t matter. I melted against your touch. It felt so good to be touched so gently. So lovingly. I needed it. I needed it. 

“I’ll be quick.”

Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. 

You let go.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

You refused to look at me as you left. Coward.

You closed the door to my tomb in an empty SLAM.

It was getting increasingly harder to be left alone, I noticed. The serenity of your home was suffocating; the soft sunlight a searing spotlight and quiet ambience a chafing drone. Had the comfort of your presence made your absence comparatively worse? Or had my mind deteriorated more because of the sunlight and fresh air? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that you left again. And even Bonnie’s metal bones seemed to bend under the weight of your absence. 

Why did he feel so much more constricting now that we were alone? Every metal bone impaling my flesh was an unwanted grasping hand, strangling every inch of my body in a suffocating embrace. I didn’t want him to let go, I wanted to rip him from my body, shredding apart the flesh he pierced. But he wouldn’t let go. He choked me. And everytime I tried to tear his skull from mine, I felt it as my own head being ripped off.

Everything was felt twice. The pain. The decay. The rust. The madness. I should’ve burned the goddamn suit the moment I was done using it. He was my reward for my sentimentality. If he was aware of my hatred, he didn’t or couldn't react to it. It made me hate him more. 

...I couldn’t remember what it was like not feeling him. Why couldn’t I remember...?

You returned sooner than you had the days before. I assumed. Time was still difficult for me, but it was light outside when you returned so you must’ve been quicker. Probably because of your rightful guilt.

I heard you before I saw you. You were talking to someone outside your house. Your neighbor? When you returned through the door, a concerned expression crossed your face. Searching eyes looked at me in the shadows as the door closed behind you. Your eyes then fell to my bloodied hands. Your mind was putting pieces together, and I wished I could squeeze the answers out of you, just to know how close you were.

You weren’t close enough, however, because you still came to me with your tools and trinkets. You wanted to move me, puzzling out how to drag my massive frame to wherever you desired. Then something stopped you; concerned you. You put your head—no, your ear to my chest. Were you listening to my machinery, or my quiet strangled breaths? Whatever it was brought a bewildered look on your face and a shudder down your spine. 

You settled on dragging me by my waist. The pain passed in a blinding blur. It didn’t hurt as much as the first time you did it, but I was still screaming violence and death at you from within. I must’ve been acclimating to your touch. 

You sat me on your couch, panting and fatigued. You looked as if you wanted me in a different position, but didn’t have the strength to move me. It was better you didn’t. The more you dragged me around, the more I hated you. 

Then, you did something curious. You pulled out a large purple bowtie from your plastic bag. 

Your gentle hands wrapped it around my neck, the feather-light touch sending spikes of pleasure to my skull. That I did not mind feeling twice. 

You were adjusting the bowtie when your eyes met mine. You smiled, “What do you think?”

processing...

data entry complete

Data entry? What data entry?

> data entered = assigned([FAVORED_GUEST])

What? Why?

processing...

allotted time fulfillment? = YES

 We’ve only known them for three days. It should at least take ten.

processing...

[ADMIN_OVERRIDE]? = YES

I didn’t touch our directory, dumb rabbit.

processing...

...

processing...

> Data entry = delete([FAVORED_GUEST])

error

failed to delete data entry

You stupid, weak-hearted little shit-

“Whoa,” Your voice tore me away from Bonnie. “Your processors are burning up.” You held the back of your hand an inch from my cheek. You did this because you could feel the heat from there, but it just made me deliriously mad that you were so close to touching me and didn’t. “The gears in your head are so loud I can’t hear the...”

...Can’t hear what?

Your eyes fell to my chest again, like before. You didn’t finish your sentence. That drove me mad. You chewed your bottom lip. 

You slowly pressed your ear against my chest again—one hand holding my arm and the other resting on my thigh. My gears whirled. My head felt light. It was almost too much. My body felt wound up like a toy on the verge of snapping. I could smell you. You smelled like fresh soap and rust. I wanted to bite you. I wanted to have you. I wanted to take you. I wanted you. I wanted you. I wanted you.

You pulled back suddenly, your face stricken with shock. You pressed against me again, this time pressing closer. Your grip on me tightened—my arm, my thigh. My vision blurred. You held me desperately. As if you needed me. 

You needed me.

A euphoric pleasure traveled my spine. Or was it my metal base? I couldn’t tell who liked that thought, me or Bonnie. It didn’t matter. It was heavenly either way.

You pulled back again, and I hated you for it. Ice replaced where you touched, and my mind screamed for your warmth. “What the hell...” You said, horror on the tip of your tongue.

You moved quickly, inspired by something I didn’t know while I came down from my euphoric high. You grabbed the equipment you bought, opened up your thin computer, and connected your hellish wires into me. In my position, you couldn’t plug your wires in from my back like you had the night before, so you cringed as you dug into my torso. As much as I despised your burning and invasive digging, I preferred it. A small price to pay if it meant I could watch you as you worked.

Your attention was glued to whatever curiosity held you. You scanned your computer, typing and scrolling, looking back into my chest, returning to your search. As you studied your computer, you steadily became more on edge; you worried your bottom lip, you fidgeted your fingers between typing, you clenched and unclenched your jaw. 

Finally, you leaned back and rubbed your face in your hands. You exhaled and looked back at my chest, before your eyes slowly scrolled up to mine. You didn’t like what you saw in my eyes, so you quickly broke contact. “I can’t find anything in here to explain that heartbeat of yours.”

... My rotten heart could still beat?

“The only thing I can think of-” You were babbling to yourself. You were fraying. Were you in denial? It was fun to watch. “There’s gotta be some kind of internal mechanism or something; independent of your PLC. Something that... that speeds up on pressure, maybe...”

...

I didn’t want you to touch me again.

Apparently, you didn’t want to touch me either, because you shook your head free from your worries and gave me a strained smile, “Let’s just focus on that storage protocol.”

Everything was slower when I watched you work. Like the whole world quieted and there was only you, focused on your thin computer. I watched your eyes’ miniscule movements, the slow rise and fall of your chest. I wanted to hear your heartbeat. I swore I heard it the night before. I knew I could. I could hear nothing now. Its lulling rhythm entranced me. I wanted it. I would listen to it for hours. I wanted the luxury of calm.

I knew time passed when your eyes grew heavy with fatigue. You cracked and stretched your fingers more often, as if you were tired of typing. Your pauses between lines of code became more frequent. The sun was setting by the time you leaned back against the couch.

You looked at me, before casting a glance back at your thin computer. You chewed your bottom lip. You didn’t want to do it. I knew it. You had it, but you knew what it meant to free me. Some base instinct was telling you not to do it. If you were smart, you would’ve left me here, grabbed everything you could, and drove far away until you knew I couldn’t follow you.

You picked up your phone and tapped on it. Your thumb hovered over the screen, unmoving. You weren’t breathing. Then, abruptly, you turned it off and set it face down.

Seems as though you weren’t smart, carrot.

“Fuck it,” You said with an anxious sigh. “Let’s give it a try.”

One tap on your keyboard, and something clicked inside my chest. It was strangely simple, no surge of electricity or blinding pain. I expected pain. There was always pain. But no, not this time. That made me doubt it worked. My eyes flicked to the sunset.

> Execute([MOVE])

> executing command = [MOVE]

I lurched forward.

Oh, it worked.

“Well...” you exhaled in relief and... tension. You were afraid. And you were right to be. You. You did it. Brilliant and stupid. “There it is.”

You owe me, carrot.

I stood up and, as if coming to your senses, you shrank at my height and pressed your body deeper into the couch. I ripped the wires out of me. “C̶h̴e̷a̶t̸e̸r̴.̸”

You blinked, your mouth agape, before you stumbled through your words, “You’re still on that?”

My head twitched to the side. Oh, did it feel good to move whenever I pleased. To have control over my own body. Had you not been a cheater, I would’ve sang your praises, poor selfish carrot.

“Y̷o̶u̷ ̴d̵i̷d̶n̵'̵t̸,” My heavy knee dropped onto the couch, and you squeaked. I would chew you up like a toy. “A̷p̶o̵l̸o̶g̵i̵z̷e̸.̷”

“...Well, you didn’t say ‘thanks’.”

My hand shot to your throat.

Warming pleasure washed over me as you gasped, breathless and startled. My claws were large enough that your neck fit perfectly in my palm. I waited for this. I was patient for this. I needed this. I deserved this.

Though I hadn’t squeezed, your hands immediately clawed against mine. Useless and weak. I liked that. “Stop! Stop!” You tried, “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry!” The words spilled from your mouth so quickly, I was almost disappointed I didn’t get more of a fight out of you.

I moved closer to you, pushing you down until I was on top of you. You panicked, thrashing and pushing against me. I hadn’t even squeezed enough to choke, and you were already panicking. Pathetic. “C̵o̷m̸m̸a̴n̷d̸,̷” I leaned heavily into Bonnie’s voicebox in between wheezing, strangled breaths, “n̷o̵t̶ ̸r̶e̷c̵o̷g̴n̸i̴z̶e̸d̵.̷”

“Oh, bullshit-”

> Execute([SQUEEZE])

> executing command = [SQUEEZE]

You choked beneath me. Your warm skin was so squishy beneath my iron grip, a pleasure I relished—I could feel your pulse if I positioned my thumb just right, and it was racing. Euphoria rushed over me in a wave as I drank the fear and pain in your eyes, sweeter than any drug. My fingertips were alight with ecstasy, and all I could see, hear, and breath was the command prompt squeeze.

Your breath was mine. You were mine. You suffocated against my palm—and fuck, that felt good. Two days of being abandoned by you. Refused by you. Poked and prodded at like a toy, then discarded just as quick. Did you have fun? Did you enjoy hurting me? I hope you did, carrot. It was my turn now.

Your hand frantically palmed for something next to you, but it didn’t matter. I would’ve liked to make your death last, but with that miserable look in your eyes, I’d be lucky if I made it last until midnight.

You were starting to fade. The way your body started to go limp filled me with mania. I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t let you leave again. Not yet.

I lessened my grip and I could feel the air suck back into your lungs. Lucky bastard. It made me want to take away your breath again. To keep you on the edge between consciousness and unconsciousness until you begged me to take your breath forever. 

Not yet. There was something else I wanted first.

My voice box, shredded and raspy, crackled to life, “Y̴o̶u̷ ̵l̴o̶v̷e̵ ̶m̷e̵.̶”

Your eyes slowly widened as you came back to consciousness. I could see the gears turning in your head, your brow knotted and your fear tempered with confusion and oxygen deprivation. It was cute seeing you try to figure out what was happening. Did you still think this was coding? You had to be the biggest idiot on earth if you did.

“Y̶o̸u̸ ̴l̷o̴v̸e̴ ̵m̴e̵, ̵D̸o̸n̸'̵t̸ ̸y̸o̵u̵?̸” I said again.

“...Huh?” You sputtered, before gasping when I squeezed ever so slightly. I loved the sound of you gasping. I’d love the sound of you crying more. You nodded frantically against my grip around your neck and it almost made me laugh.

“S̴a̶y̸ ̵i̸t̸,̸” I felt crazed when your face flushed warm. Simulated breath left my mask with a high-pitched mechanical hiss. “S̶a̵y̶,̵ ̴‘̵I̷ ̷l̵o̵v̴e̶ ̶y̶o̷u̵,̵-̵ ” [> output speech(“BONNIE”)] “ -̶B̷o̷n̵n̴i̵e̷’̵.̸”

Bonnie? The hell? William! Damn it!

“I-I love you, Bonnie.”

Electricity tingled along the metal of my endoskeleton to the tips of my ears, but it wasn’t me. It was him. Or maybe it was me. Whatever. I was just pissed you were flushed over saying, I love you fucking Bonnie.

Pain jabbed into my arm. I tore from you. You stabbed me. You stabbed me with a screwdriver. I grabbed it in one quick motion and ripped it out of my arm. You would regret that. You were scrambling away from me on the couch, but you couldn’t run from me. I would bury it into your heart.

But you didn’t run. You grabbed your TV remote and turned it on. 

Colorful and bright noises danced across the screen, children screamed with delight, and furious dread pitted in my stomach. 

> executing command = [FOLLOW_THE_CHILDREN]

> Override command = [FOLLOW_THE_CHILDREN]

error

failed to execute override

> Override command = [FOLLOW_THE_CHILDREN]

error

failed to execute override

> OVERRIDE COMMAND = [FOLLOW_THE_CHILDREN]

error

failed to execute override

Damn you. Damn you! Did you think you could control me?! Make me go where you wished?! Do as you say?! You are mine! YOU ARE MINE! I’d kill you, and when I was done I’d bring your head to your coward of a friend.

You ran when I started to trudge toward the TV. There was nowhere you could go that I couldn’t find you. I’ve already ruined your cheating hiding place. I smashed your TV to pieces the moment I reached it, and you locked the door to your room.

I twitched as I reached your door. I could break it down in three strikes.

SLAM.

SLAM.

“Wait!”

I stopped.

“I can take away the sound protocol!” Your voice cracked in a desperate plea, “The-the protocol that makes you go toward sounds! I can take that away!”

My head and fingertips twitched and twinged. You held your breath from beyond the door. My eyes scanned the door robotically. 

I wasn’t sure which I wanted more: to kill you, or to be rid of every last bit of Bonnie that controlled me. I could manage the sound protocol... It wasn’t often that it could be used against me. I might even be able to get rid of it myself with the right equipment. 

But... I did hate that it was a tool to keep me away from the security guard. Not that they were good at using it.

Still undecided, I said, “O̴p̶e̶n̷ ̴t̶h̶e̸ ̸d̸o̵o̷r̵.̵”

I heard your shaking breath. The lock on the door clicked. You opened it slowly.

In one moment, you were everything I wanted. Your eyes bore into me with a steeled gaze, but I saw right past it. You were terrified. Your body was shaking. Your hands were in fists tight enough to pale. Your cheeks were marked with hastily swiped tears. You were forcing your breath to be even. 

You were putting on a brave face. How sweet. I would break it.

“G̷o̶o̷d̶ ̶c̷a̸r̷r̷o̴t̶.̷” My voicebox reverberated in wheezing delight. I took one heavy step past the door, and sublime cracks in your bravery spread across your face.

Then, you steeled yourself again. You grabbed my arm. Like a reflex, my eyes shot to it. Gentle fingers softly holding me... it was a dessert too sweet. “I can be useful,” you said with your shaking breath. 

Oh. Oh. 

So that’s why you had been so... generous with your touches. You knew I liked it. You knew it calmed me. You were using it to tame me. Did you wish to tame me, carrot?

...

I should’ve been angered by that. I wasn’t.

“T̴h̶e̴n̶,̴ ̴I̶ ̸w̴i̵l̷l̵ ̷m̶a̴k̴e̴ ̶u̷s̵e̴ ̴o̷f̵ ̵y̵o̷u̷.̶” I suddenly grasped your hand in mind, interlocking our fingers in a tight grip. By instinct, you tried to pull away, but you couldn’t. I grabbed your other hand too, and then walked you back until you hit the bed. You fell back on it in a gasp. I crushed your hands with my weight as I got on top of you, and you winced at the pressure.

I needed to feel. To smell. To taste. I needed all of it. My body pressed against yours and your breath left you under the weight of it. I held one of your hands—I needed to hold it, to possess your heart—while the other came beneath your shirt at your waist. The soft pliable flesh of your waist was heavenly, and I groaned under the pleasure of contact. I breathed, rasping and choked, into the flesh of your neck, the fresh bruise marking you as mine. As mine. As mine. I longed for the functioning parts to take you in this broken body. I separated my jaw in a sickening squelch. This would have to do.

Just as I was about to sink my teeth—both teeth—into the soft flesh of your neck, you stopped me. Tender fingertips from the hand I wasn’t holding caressed the side of my head. With the ringing touch echoing in my head, I could not move. 

You sweet seducer. You lovely, tempting treat. It wasn’t possible for me to resist. How could I, when you caressed me as if you loved me... and shook under me as if you loathed me. Your captivating touch, your repetitive movement, your uneven breaths made my mind numb. I couldn’t think. I could only feel. I closed my mouth on nothing with a snap, and my head buried into your neck. You drew loving circles into the back of my skull and I hummed, strangled breath still leaking from my voicebox. 

I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t since death. But the lulling trance you put me under was the closest thing to sleep I’d felt since life. My mind was blank, like a dreamless night. My eyes were opened, but I didn’t see anything. Though your breath was shaking, I couldn’t hear anything. I could only feel. I pressed my tattered maw against your jugular, and I felt your pulse. It was erratic at first, but it slowed with time. My strangled breaths were quieted to a low strain. 

When your fingertips slowed, I crushed your hand in my grip and you picked up speed right away, your heartbeat matching in turn.