For clarity: I'm not doing a separate post on each Epilogue. My plan is to (after all the other stories) do a few major characters like I did with the Novel and Games (specifically Andrew, Renelle and Larson). I've decided to use the Epilogues to write my own plot. Because why not?
If you don't care, you don't have to read. I'm not gonna tag anyone. And if I don't get any feedback, I'll probably just stop. So...
Into the Pit/To Be Beautiful/Count the Ways
Larson placed a coffee cup on the table.
“You overwork yourself,” he told the man across from him.
The man had dark blue eyes, light skin and brown hair, cut short. He said he originally wore it long, but he got involved in a fire and it burnt off. He got it cut so it looked more natural.
“It’s good, I’d keep it if I were you,” Larson had told him.
The man said his name was Michael Afton. He said he was thirty-five years old. He was five feet, eleven inches. He looked so skinny he might not have even been fully human.
“I know, but still…” Michael trailed off.
“Listen kid, your name was Afton. Any relation to-”
“He was my father,” Michael said almost immediately. Larson looked shocked. “I’ve heard it dozens of times. My father is William Afton. You don’t need to ask.”
Larson nodded and sat across from him. “What was it like? Living with him.”
Michael thought for a moment. “Horrible, mostly. I mean, he had nie moments. I think he was bipolar. So am I, and so was his father. He probably got it from him. I don’t know. I just know he was… indecisive when deciding if he loved me.”
“Do you think you should have been loved?” Larson asked.
“No.”
Larson looked down at his psych-evaluation. Michael apparently had been marked as mentally unstable.
“It says here you gave five thousand dollars to a boy in Pennsylvania. Oswald Heere. Why was that?”
“He claimed something about Spring Bonnie. My dad used to wear that, so I guess I felt bad. I guess I was just trying to convince myself that I was a good person.” He looked guilty. ‘It didn’t work.”
Larson was trying to avoid the big question. Michael could sense it. He pulled his legs up to his face, trying to hide himself.
“I don’t want to ask it either, Mike,” Larson tried to comfort him. “That’s one elephant in the room neither of us want to acknowledge.”
“I didn’t do it,” Michael said, with tears in his eyes. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
Again, if you don't like this, I won't post it. I'm just testing out the waters, I guess. If I do keep writing, I won't wait an extra day