Henry had tried so hard to protect his daughter, Charlotte, on her fifth birthday. He had heard about the bodies found in the area and even built an advanced animatronic to help shield her. He did everything he could—but he failed. Charlotte got locked out of the restaurant by some bullies, who blocked the animatronics' exit with a pile of gift boxes.
Meanwhile, Dave, coincidentally driving away from Fredbear's, noticed Charlotte in the alley. Opportunity and malice gleamed in his eyes. He drove into the alleyway, approached her, and led her past the window. Within moments, he had her in his grasp, choking her to death with his gloved hands. Once the life had left her, he swiftly vacuumed the remnant with his machine and drove back to William's house.
Jennifer was sitting in the living room, watching television. "Leave him alone tonight. He had a rough day," she said.
Dave ignored her. He walked down the hall to Jeremy's room and knocked on the door. Over the years, he had realized something: with a child from William's wife, he could conduct psychological experiments—being caring one day and cruel the next. Everything was a game of manipulation, a twisted theater.
"I told you not to close your door," he muttered. "This is my house. He can't ignore me like that."
"OPEN THE DOOR!" he bellowed, banging on it. "I'll find a way in from outside," he added, walking back through the living room and into the backyard. He noticed footprints leading to a broken window. "Ran off to that place again. He'll be sorry when he gets back." Dave murmured.
Jeremy tried to sneak back into the house—but Dave was waiting in his room.
"What were you doing out past your curfew, Jeremy?" Dave's voice was stern.
"D-dad, I'm sorry! I just wanted an escape from my horrible day at school," Jeremy stammered, almost in tears.
"I don't care, Jeremy! You don't know what could happen at that place! For all you know, those legends could be true!" Dave yelled.
"But dad, it's the only place where I feel like I can truly be relaxed," Jeremy said, tears brimming.
"Are you saying you don't feel safe here?" Dave asked.
"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying," Jeremy replied, voice shaking. "Especially since... you always get like this. One day you're caring, and the next you act like this!"
Dave's expression hardened. "Ungrateful child. I'm trying to protect you..."
"FROM WHAT? DANGERS THAT MIGHT NOT EVEN EXIST?" Jeremy shouted.
"Even if that story is made up, there are still people who could do horrible things. Kidnappers, pedophiles, psychopaths. Anything, anytime, anywhere! Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes... I... I'm sorry, Dad," Jeremy whispered.
"That's what I thought," Dave said, before turning to leave. "And Jeremy... you're grounded." He closed the door behind him.
Jeremy lay on his bed, the room dark and cold, and began to cry. "I have to be strong," he whispered. "I have... to be... strong."
Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he fell asleep—his small body trembling with the weight of fear and helplessness.