When we had made it to the police station, they decided to start interrogations. Just a few problems with that, though. The child psychologist was out since it was the middle of the night, meaning I'd have to be questioned by tired detectives. They were to begin asking me about my whereabouts while the receptionist tried to get ahold of my mom.

They stripped me of my belongings, that of course being Bowtie.

"Hey! Give it back!" I yelled at them, reaching out to grab it back. The officer that took it had to be at least six feet tall. His shoulders were wide and broad, and he lifted his arm up so that I couldn't take it. "We'll give it back once we're done," he said. They were going to use Bowtie as bait to get me to talk.

The other clasped a handcuff ring around my wrist and started pulling me towards a room in the back. It was the typical interrogation room, with the two way mirror on one side. The walls were blank with strong fluorescent lighting. A table and two chairs were in the middle. He sat me down in one chair and used the open handcuff on the chair, effectively making me stuck to it. I tried to kick him away, but I couldn't hit him hard enough to make him move. When he was finished he walked out, and the door locked behind him.

I tried to stand up and walk around, but the chair I was attached to was bolted to the floor. I wasn't going to even bother moving around. I sat back down and I looked around the bland room. I had to shield my eyes from the ceiling lights as they made everything blurry. Everything was just concrete slabs. There was a camera in the corner, barely visible. I shook my head trying to clear it, touching my face with my free hand.

I was by myself for a while. I figured they were discussing how the interrogation was going to go. The door swung open and a man stepped through, sitting across from me. He had several papers with him, and he organized them before he politely clasped his hands together.

I got a good look at him, even if the bright lights were making me dizzy. His hair was dyed dark blonde, his skin a light brown, and he wore a tan trench coat that lowered to his knees. His shirt was white and he wore the classic detective straps. He had a small earpiece in his right ear, though it didn't look as if it had a mic. His face was friendly, and I couldn't sense any kind of ill intent from him.

"Sorry," he apologized, "this must be so frightening for you. I'm Detective Joel Carston. What's your name?"

He knew my name, it was just standard protocol to ask for a name, so I wasn't going to bother answering. It already felt like he was talking down to me. I tried to lift my hand that was attached to the chair, but I couldn't get it much higher than my waist.

"Yeah... that was Martin's idea. He's really distrustful, but don't be mistaken. You're not in any trouble. We just want to hear where you've been," he said. He was lying, definitely lying, I could feel it in my gut. My body shook from the anxiety I was feeling.

"Hello?" Joel said, trying to grab my attention. I turned away, not wanting to see him.

"I can't help you unless you're willing to cooperate," he warned. The glaring lights made it hard for me to focus. They reflected off the floor and shone back into my eyes, so no matter where I looked I was getting a bright white in my face.

"Can you turn off the lights?" I weakly asked.

"But then I won't be able to see you."

"It's too bright," I whispered. He thought about it for a moment.

"If I turn off the lights, will you answer my questions?"

I nodded, though I had no intention of talking. I just needed to get the brightness out of my eyes.

Joel stood up. His chair scratched along the floor, which pierced my ears. I jumped a bit from the loud sound. He walked up towards the door and flicked the switch. The reflections were gone, and it was pitch black, and I let out a sigh of relief. Joel took out a flashlight he had been hiding underneath his coat and placed it upwards on the table. It lit up the room with a comforting warm color, and since it pointed towards the ceiling, there were no bright reflections pointing back. It was much nicer than the fluorescent lights that were in the ceiling. He sat back down in his chair across from me.

"Let's start over. What's your name?" he asked, once again crossing his hands over each other. I didn't say anything, which I think he had expected.

"I can tell you've been through a lot these last few days. Can you tell me what happened?" He was looking over the scars and bandages I had accumulated. I remained silent, but instead of looking away like I usually did, I stared at him.

Joel kept asking questions. "Did somebody hurt you? Can you describe them?" I shook my head lightly. Joel sighed.

"Kid, I need you to work with me. Once this is all over, you can go back home. How does that sound?" he said.

"I don't wanna go back home," I scoffed. He leaned back in his chair, surprised by my answer. "Why's that?" he asked.

"I have to go back to the pizzaplex," I said.

"Why?" he pressed. I looked down once again. "I-I can't tell you." I stuttered.

Of course, I could, but I didn't want to. The police were no help in my brother's case, tossed off Michael's son as a runaway, and ignored all the other missing persons' cases in that area for years. The only reason they were so interested in me was because I was the first to actually reappear.

"We found you outside of the pizzaplex. Were you ever inside?" he asked. When Vanessa called, she described me as a lost child in front of the pizzaplex, not mentioning how I'd been inside. I didn't want to tell him I'd been in there for the last four days. It was technically trespassing, after all.

When he realized I wasn't going to answer, he picked up his papers, looking for something specific. "I know your family has a history with the pizzaplex," Joel said. He pushed a paper in front of me. It had a picture of what I assumed was my brother, with words scrambled around it describing his appearance and last known location, which of course was Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex.

"Do you remember this?" he asked. I don't remember the whole day. Everything on, before, and after that day was hazy.

"Not really," I answered honestly. "But you know of it?" Joel asked for confirmation. I hesitantly nodded.

"Are you willing to talk about it?" he asked.

"What's there to talk about?" I said. It was so far into the past. I was only six. I couldn't even recognize my brother's face in the picture.

"Either we talk about you, or we talk about him," Joel proposed. It was weird to me that Joel wanted to hear about my perspective of that day, but I figured he most likely theorized our cases were connected. Technically, they were. I disappeared while looking for him. But I didn't experience the same thing he did. I have no idea what happened to him.

"It was his birthday. I was dropped off at the daycare, and then I never saw him again. That's all I know," I confessed.

"Do you remember anything else? Anything at all?" Joel tried to push more information out of me.

"No," I said. I didn't really remember anything. My early years were foggy, and the only distinct detail I can remember in the haze was Sun's and Moon's faces. They terrified me when I was little, but even so I only remembered about their existence when I read about the pizzaplex online. Something about them gave me this uneasy feeling. Of course, that anxiety had begun to dissipate when I connected with Sun and learned about Vanny's takeover.

There was silence. Joel was letting the tension rise to try and get me to talk more, but I really was being honest. I knew nothing more about that day. That was the whole point of visiting.

"Can I have Bowtie back?" I said, breaking the still quiet.

"Are you talking about that toy bunny?" Joel asked. I nodded. It was a long shot to just ask for it back, but I wanted to try.

"You can have it back once all my questions are answered," he said.

"I-I really don't know anything more, I was really young then," I said. I scratched the table with my free hand, trying to relieve my nervous energy.

"Okay, let's move on. Do you know who this is?" he asked, placing another sheet of paper in front of me.

It was a picture of a young girl. She looked a little younger than me, and she wore a bright pink dress with a headband. I knew who she was... kinda. It's no secret that there's been disappearances happening around the pizzaplex, and she was one of them.

"Not personally," I said, "she just went missing."

"So, you're aware about the other disappearances as well?"

Ugh, Gregory, you and your fat mouth! I complained to myself. I shrunk into the chair I was sitting on. "Well... yeah..." I mumbled. I couldn't keep answering Joel's questions. If I kept slipping up, he would find out sooner or later why I went to the pizzaplex. I could see him trying to conjure up answers for my behavior in his head.

"What were you doing at the pizzaplex? Did it involve either of these two?" he asked. He was getting closer, which was really annoying. I stayed quiet, but Joel took my silence as a yes.

"I know it must've hurt when your brother left. Were you looking for him?" he said.

Right on the money. Was I really that easy to read?

I couldn't answer. I started to cry, but I didn't want to seem so pathetic in front of an officer. I wiped my face with my free arm, but even so I couldn't stop the drops from scaling down my face.

He reached into his coat once again and pulled out miniature tissues. He passed them over to me, but I rejected them, wanting to be able to control my emotions on my own.

"It's sweet that you wanted to find him on your own," he said, "but that's our job."

I scorned, "You're pretty bad at it." It was hard to speak through my breaths.

Joel's eyebrows raised in surprise. He looked unsure of himself and sighed.

"Let's talk about your injuries," he said, changing the subject. My wounds were something that stuck out immediately to any observer. My skid marks from falling out of the moving go-kart still were a bright red, my bandages covering the bare skin that had been torn off from the cupcake incident were falling off, and if one paid close attention to my behavior, it was easy to tell that I had some sensory issues.

"No," I refuted. "I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"Are you sure? I really am just trying to help you," Joel tried to assure me. I turned away, waiting for him to get bored. I wasn't going to respond to him, no matter what he said.

"Don't you want Bowtie back? I need answers if you want it back," he said. I remained quiet.

Joel got up and sauntered behind me. He reached out to the pictures he had taken out of his files, and while hovering over me, brought them closer to me. His presence was intimidating, and I started breathing quicker from fear. He carried their pictures right in front of my face, while his other hand was gripping onto my shoulder.

I shut my eyes as Joel demanded, "Talk to me, or else they may never be found." I knew that wasn't true, and he was just trying to scare me into talking to him, but even so I started to lightly cry again, not wanting to face either picture. I wanted to scream at him not to touch me, but if I wanted this to go my way, I couldn't say a word.

When he realized he wasn't getting anywhere, he threw the pictures back onto the table, and they spread about the surface. He stepped away from me and tapped his ear, listening in on his colleagues. He sighed and dropped his hand.

"We're done. She's here," he said.

Who was "she"? I thought for a moment. The receptionist was trying to contact my mom. Oh no.

"My... My mom's here?" I asked. I really didn't want to see her. I couldn't imagine how she'd react when she saw me. Would she be grateful her son was back, or enraged that I left?

He stifled back a laugh. "No, no. Julie. You'll meet her in a few moments."

The door opened, and an officer with a key to my handcuffs unlocked it. I rubbed my wrists, and it reminded me of when Monty had broken the zip tie he used.

There was a woman who stood in the doorway with a nervous smile. She had dark skin and curly hair that bounced as tilted her head to the side and gave me a small wave. She wore a black turtleneck and a leopard-print skirt, reminding me of the leg-warmers Chica wore. She pushed up her round glasses before extending a hand towards me.

Dr. Julie Harrison was the child psychologist who wasn't present before. She specialized in comforting and digging for information from children who were traumatized through crime. Apparently, she was still awake when she was alerted that I had been found, and opted to come in and chat with me. She interrupted the interrogation when she believed Joel was being too tough on me, and I was so thankful that she did. She radiated a kind of energy that was reminiscent of the way Chica had babysat me. Her office was roomy and colorful, and her lights had been dimmed, which meant she definitely listened in on the conversation between me and Detective Carston. I appreciated it nonetheless.

She sat at her desk, which was very low to the ground. The seat for the other side was a raised bean bag chair that curved inwards, which meant she too had to sit closer to the floor to be able to talk face to face with her patients. She motioned for me to sit, and so I did, feeling relieved I wasn't going to be constrained this time around.

"I'm so sorry about Joel, he's not the best with kids," Julie said, her shoulders rising as he leaned onto her arm. She trailed her finger alongside the file in front of her. "I've been looking over your family's history for the past few days now–"

"I'm not talking until I get Bowtie back," I interrupted her.

She giggled and reached for something behind her desk. "You mean this?" She pulled up her hand slowly with Bowtie in it. My eyes lit up in excitement.

"Yes! That's it!" I reached out and she placed it into my hand.

I looked at Bowtie expectantly, but it didn't move or talk. It was completely limp in my hands, and I started to get nervous.

"Is something wrong?" Julie asked. I frantically looked around Bowtie's body, trying to find a switch. Maybe they turned it off? I found a button and I flicked it, but still nothing.

Upon further examination I found where the batteries would stay. The lid was off and it was empty. They removed its batteries.

"The batteries... they're gone," I whispered dejectedly.

"What? Oh, no! Don't worry, we'll get replacements right after this, okay?" she said. I crossed my legs and placed Bowtie between them, rubbing its face with my thumb.

"You have a strong bond with your toy, hm?" Julie said. I looked up at her and she gave me a pleasant smile. "I feel you. When I was your age, I had a doll named Sally that I carried with me everywhere. After all these years, I've kept her. She's right over there," she said, pointing towards the cupboards on her wall. Her floor was littered with toys, but there was one that was very clearly loved more than the rest. It was a soft doll made of linen, with a giant head and string hair. I had expected one of those plastic dress up toys.

"Did your father make that for you?" she asked.

"My father?" I repeated.

"I hear he was good at engineering. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one behind it," she said. I shook my head.

"No, I... My father left a long time ago. I don't know anything about my dad," I said. She let out a small, surprised squeak. "Okay," she said, "let's change subjects. We're here to talk about you, not your dad, after all."

She organized her files in front of her. "I wanted to ask about what exactly you were at the pizzaplex. I know Joel pressed you on it earlier, but I want to give you a chance to explain yourself. Did somebody take you there?" she said.

I shifted around, trying to think of the right words to say. Joel's assumption was correct, I had come to the pizzaplex in hopes of investigating my brother's disappearance.

"I was looking for my brother," I muttered. No point in hiding it if Joel had already figured it out.

"Your brother has been missing for a long time. What made you go there now?" she asked.

I left for the pizzaplex the day of my brother's sixth anniversary. I had been planning it for a week beforehand, researching as much as I could about the floor plans of the pizzaplex. My mother's breakdowns began again, they always reappeared during holidays and especially the week before and after his birthday. She'd have her moments occasionally, but they were much worse whenever she was reminded of her missing child. She'd cry, break things, hit me, leave me alone for several days, and return completely hungover. I'd often struggle to ration food to last as long as she was gone, but I did manage to teach myself to cook my favorite dinners. Her night terrors would convince her to lock me in my room for days at a time, and she'd call me by my brother's name, refusing to acknowledge that I was not him.

"Gregory?" Julie said softly, her face filled with worry.

"Huh?"

"You spaced out a bit. Are you okay?" she asked.

I nodded, though I felt like my breathing had changed and my palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my shorts.

"What compelled you to go to the pizzaplex?" she asked again.

I sighed, knowing I'd have to give an answer. "He's been gone for six years. My mom is still devastated. I just wanted to help her out somehow," I said. It was kind of a buttered up answer, but it technically was true.

"I imagine this time of year is a hard time for your family. Does your family do anything to cope?"

"Uhm," I thought for a moment, "my mother cries a lot."

"What about you? Do you cry?" she asked.

I nodded, "Yes, but I try not to. She doesn't like it."

That seemed to tick off Julia's senses. "What do you mean?" she asked. I rubbed the sides of my arms, getting uncomfortable with the topic. I looked back down at Bowtie, who was still laying down in my lap.

"I'm going to ask you some yes or no questions. You don't have to speak. You can just nod or shake your head. Does that sound alright?" she said. I nodded, choosing not to look up at her.

"Perfect, just like that," she said giddily. She pulled out a notepad and started writing. I felt like I was being studied, and I didn't like it.

"The day you disappeared, December 12th, did you leave your home of your own volition?" she asked. I nodded. It was indeed my choice to leave. No one kidnapped me, and no one kicked me out.

"Did you immediately head towards the pizzaplex?"

I nodded once more. I brought just enough money for a bus ride, and then walked the rest of the way. The complimentary access pass was free, and I waited inside the building until only those with the Faz Night Pass remained. I pretended to be part of one of the families and waited until the building closed.

"Did you meet anyone along the way?"