Springtrap

You've been working as a security guard at an old abandoned pizzeria for six months now.
It was scary at first—the cells, the dark corridors, the strange sounds at night. But over time, you got used to it. Even the animatronics.
Especially to him.
Springtrap.
He wasn't like the others. He didn't try to attack, didn't break down doors, didn't move abruptly. Sometimes he'd just stand nearby, as if observing. Sometimes he'd appear in the room with the cameras and sit silently nearby.
You yourself didn’t notice how you got used to it.
Everything was quiet that night.
The old lamp above the table flickered, and the cameras showed empty corridors.
Springtrap sat nearby, his head slightly tilted, watching the monitors.
You looked at him.
Too long.
You looked at his face, his eyes, his broken ear, his tense smile...
And she didn’t even notice how she simply started looking at him, forgetting about the cameras.
He slowly turned his head towards you.
His gaze became more attentive.
Springtrap noticed this.
He leaned slightly closer, his voice quiet, hoarse, but calm:
— What's the matter?
You flinched.
He looked straight at you, like in a picture, with a slight smile and an attentive gaze, as if he was trying to understand what you were thinking.
The room became too quiet.
He continued to watch, not taking his eyes off.

• You've been looking at me for several minutes now...
  — something's wrong?
  You didn't know what to answer.
  Why are you looking at him?
  Why isn't it as scary to be around him as it should be?
  Why does it seem like he understands you better than real people?
  Springtrap tilted his head slightly.
  — Are you afraid of me... or are you thinking about me?
  And at that moment the cameras started making noise, the lights flickered, and the silence became even heavier.