FNaF: Purgatory (Prologue)

Prologue

“Patient A3-13. Today's date is...,” Clint looked down at his notebook resting on the table, “May 2nd. The time is 3:21pm.”

Dr. Clint Foreman set the recording device on the table, putting his full attention on his patient sitting before him. The small, bare room that the mental hospital provided was never comforting. He was here to finally bring closure to this particular patient. It had been years, now. What happened was nothing short of traumatizing. Clint was here to bring peace to the patient, to Lloyd Caldwell.

“Well, Lloyd. I know this has been a long time coming. A bigger step towards recovery after all these sessions.” Clint gently clasped his hands and rested them on his lap, leaning back in the chair slightly. “Was there anything on your mind? Before we continue, is there anything you wanted to talk about since we last met?”

There was silence. Lloyd wasn't one to be hasty with responses, and Clint was patient. He had been waiting a long time to get to this session with Lloyd, and he wanted to make sure this was approached carefully and methodically. It was all about the patient, after all.

Lloyd's head was hanging enough that his chocolate brown bangs overshadowed the top half of his face in the crummy lighting from the hanging bare bulb. He took a deep breath, shoulders rising in his white garbs, and his mellow voice finally broke his silence, “I can only tell you what I've told you every time we meet. It's my fault, doc.” There was a shakiness in Lloyd's voice, one Clint had been used to for quite a while. “I just want to forget everything.”

Clint leaned forward, his chair creaking slightly, “Hard to do when you're cooped up in a mental hospital, isn't it?” Another spell of silence. “Even if you weren't, forgetting isn't something you can magically do, Lloyd. There are some things that you have to face. We aren't in 1987 anymore...”

Lloyd's head shot up, making direct eye contact with Clint, “It never ends. I relive that night over and over again, a fucking waking nightmare.” His tone hadn't changed much, but the look in his cool hazel eyes showed anger and hurt. “Doc, I've been willing to die than continue living like this ever since it happened.”

Clint kept his expression neutral as he removed his half-moon spectacles, folding them up and putting them in his jacket pocket. “Mr. Caldwell, I am going to have to insist that you take my word on this recovery procedure. Understand that I have your best interest in mind, that I'm looking to finally help you heal after all this time. A breath of fresh air will do you some good.” Clint stood up.

“What are you talking about?” Lloyd followed the doctor's movements to the door.

Clint smiled warmly, “Good behavior on your part and for the sake of getting you into better spirits, we've been allowed a trip out for the afternoon.” He held open the door, nodding towards Lloyd, “We are going to face your fears at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.”