Five Nights at Freddy's The Silver Eyes

“Don’t!” Charlie blurted, looking up into Freddy’s fixed gaze as though making
sure he hadn’t noticed.
Carlton pulled his hand back like he had touched something hot.
“Sorry.”
“Come on,” John said, cracking a smile. “Don’t you want to see the rest of the
place?”
They spread out across the room, peering into corners and carefully
trying doors, acting as though everything might be breakable to the touch. John went
over to the small carousel, and Carlton disappeared into dark arcade off the main room.
“I remember it being a lot brighter and noisier in here.” Carlton smiled as
though at home again, running his hands over the aging knobs and flat plastic buttons. “I
wonder if my high-scores are still in there,” he muttered to himself.
To the left of the stage was a small hallway. Half-hoping no one would notice
where she had gone, Charlie started down it silently, as the others occupied themselves
with their own curiosities. At the end of the short, plain corridor was her father’s office.
It had been Charlie’s favorite place in the restaurant; she liked to play with her friends
in the main area, but she loved the singular privilege of coming back here when her
father was doing paperwork. She paused outside the closed door, her hand poised over
the knob, remembering. Most of the room was filled with his desk, his filing cabinets,
and small boxes of uninteresting parts. In one corner was a smaller filing cabinet,
painted a salmon color that Charlie had always insisted was pink. That had been
Charlie’s. The bottom drawer held toys and crayons, and the top had what she liked to
call “my paperwork.” It was mostly coloring books and drawings, but occasionally she
would go over to her father’s desk, and try to copy down whatever he was writing in a
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