Five Nights at Freddy's The Silver Eyes

thought of as a smile, became the awful, knowing grin of a skull. Charlie stood up,
careful not to touch him, and hurried toward the door, but she tripped on the tracks and
fell sprawling on the floor, her foot catching on the wheel beside the bed as she went.
There was a whir of spinning metal, and as she raised her head, a small pair of feet
appeared under her nose, clad in shining patent leather. She looked up.
There above her was Ella, staring down at her, silent and uninvited, her glassy
eyes almost appearing to see. The teacup and saucer were held out before her with a
military stiffness, and Charlie got up cautiously, taking care not to disturb the doll. She
went out of the room, stepping carefully to avoid accidentally activating any other toys,
and as she went Ella almost matched her pace, retreating to her closet.
Charlie hurried down the stairs, seized by an urgency to get away. In the car
she fumbled the key three times before sliding it into place. She backed too fast down
the driveway, running recklessly over the grass of the front yard, and sped away. After
about a mile, Charlie pulled over on the shoulder and turned the car off, staring straight
ahead through the windshield, her eyes focused on nothing. She forced herself to breathe
slowly. She reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror so she could see herself.
She always expected to see pain, anger, sorrow written on her face, but they
never were. Her cheeks were pink, and her round face looked almost cheerful, like
always. Her first weeks living with Aunt Jen, being introduced to Jen’s friends, she
heard the same things over and over: “what a pretty child. What a happy-looking child
she is.” Charlie always looked like she was about to smile, her brown eyes wide and
sparkling, her thin mouth ready to curve up, even when she wanted to sob, the
incongruity a mild betrayal. She ran her fingers through her light-brown hair, as though
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