My hometown was lost to me as soon as I left it. It was like a switch hit in my head. There wasn’t anything in particular keeping me on the subject, so I simply forgot about it. With that lose came the lose of my mother’s voice and her smile. Thinking of them, they were both charred around the edges like a note you burn after writing.

I forgot about everything. Until they popped up on the news.

My wife was tucked under a whole ton of blankets with a stuffy nose. As such, I was in the kitchen cutting vegetables for dinner. Our son was sound asleep upstairs. If I listened close I could just make out the lullaby coming from his stereo.

“A little town in Michigan brings us all a little grief today, doesn’t it, Evan?” The newscaster begins, her smile wide and radiant and fake in the glare of the camera. “Four years ago today, ——- Michigan suffered a large lose to the hands of a wildfire.”

I felt more than saw the knife slide through my finger. Blood starts pouring out instantly, and I hiss. My eyes return to the TV instead of heading for a rag.

“Some say the fire itself wasn’t an accident, Jayden.” The other newscaster sends an over exaggerated look to his co-host. “The man responsible is being on trial next month. Mr. William Afton if I remember correctly.”

I grit my teeth, curling my now bleeding hand into a fist. My wife didn’t even look up at me. She was probably too far gone to connect the pieces together. I had spent a very long time burying any evidence of what happened to me, so I couldn’t blame her for the lack of knowledge.

The sting in my finger matched the sudden sting of my heart. Blood pumps in my ears loud enough to block out whatever else was being said. His name stands out to me, repeating in my head like some fucked up mantra.

I thought about going to the trial a while back. My wife and I had been following it for a few months now, her being a lawyer interested in that sort of stuff and me, well, wanting to see what happened to the old man.

My old man.

The man who burned down everything with people inside their houses. It had been on the morning of New Year’s, as well. He hadn’t wanted anybody to leave.

Afton had always been a weird one. His sister and brother — when they were alive — would hide away whenever he was home and not stuffed in his stupid chair with glassy eyes staring out into nothing. Each one of them turned their head when he came home with blood stained shirts.

Months and months passed between incidents, which oftentimes left everyone wondering when the next freak accident would happen. One or two people disappeared. Children went missing under the radar. All the while William built his life and wealth up from the ground, slowly forgetting about his children in the dust.

Then my siblings had died. One by one, like dominos in a line. First, my brother, right beside me. Then, my sister, forgotten under layers and layers of lawsuits and missing persons. Each one was another tally against Afton. Each death sent him closer and closer to the edge.

He had jumped off the cliff with that one.

I grab a rag, running my hand under the cold water from our sink. The water ran pink with my blood. Once I was sure it was clean enough I wrap the rag over the cut. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but it was deep enough to throb as I make my way to the first aid kit.

There was a moon on the front of it. Red eyes stare right into him as he pops the lid. On the other side there was a sun. This sun looked a lot less intimidating than the moon. I pull the gauze out and quickly turn to avoid meeting the moon again.

“-plex! The franchise chose to open up its doors following the several closings spanning the last decade. We hope to-“

“Mike?” My wife’s soft voice calls from the couch. She stands, hair falling all in her face. Bits of it stick to he overheated skin. “Are you okay?”

“No.” I grumble, choosing to ignore the ad I had just seen.

He would never die, would he?