Five Nights at Freddy's The Silver Eyes

waiting for their next opening.
It didn’t come. As they waited, poised for flight, Freddy turned away, his
deliberate steps taking him to the doorway. The room went dark, and Jason’s heart
skipped before he understood what had happened: the lights were gone because Freddy
was gone.
“Marla,” he whispered, his voice little more than a breath of air. “He’s gone.”
Marla looked at him and nodded, but she did not let go of his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” She asked, in the same, almost soundless way. He nodded,
then pointed to his leg and shrugged theatrically. She smiled at him, and took her hand
from his shoulder to muss his hair.
Suddenly Lamar was tapping Marla’s arm. He pointed to his ear, and she gave
him a puzzled look. Jason stiffened, realizing what it was, and in a second Marla did,
too. There was music in the room, a tinny, labored sound like a music box, the gaps
between the notes just a little too long. The room lit up again, and before they could
move, the table was wrenched away, and Freddy was standing over them. He shoved
the table aside, almost hurling it. They screamed, a wailing, primal sound—not a
scream for help but the last, futile act of defiance. Jason clung to his sister, and she
pulled his head down against her, shielding his eyes so he would not have to see.
Suddenly, Freddy stumbled off balance and lurched to the side. He tried to
right himself, but another jolt from behind sent him flying forward, falling face-first into
the tables. Marla, Lamar, and Jason looked up to see Charlie and John, their faces
flushed with effort.
“Come on,” Charlie said. “Let’s go.”
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