Scott Cawthon

[...] ... - "What dou you think ?" She heard the question but could not answer it ; her eyes hadn't adjusted. The three masses of standing metal all looked similar in structure, but Charlie had grown accustomed to seeing more than was there, imagining the final result. For a long time now, there had been three empty suits, hanging like carcasses from a rafter in the attic. Charlie knew that they had a special purpose, and now she understood what it was.

Two long beams protruded from the top of the head of one of the hulking masses. The head itself was solid and still-like ; the beams looked as if they had been violently thrust there.

- "That's the rabbit !" Charlie squealed, proud of herself.

- You aren't scared of him ?" the voice asked.

- "Of course not. It looks like Theodore !

- Theodore. That's right !" ... [...]

[...] ... The first of his inventions was a purple rabbit, now gray with age from years of sitting in the sunlight. Her father had named him Theodore. He was the size of a three-year-old-child - her size at the time - and he had plush fur, shining eyes, and a dapper red bow tie. He didn't do much, only waved a hand, tilted his head to the side, and said in her father's voice : "I love you, Charlie." But it was enough to give her a night watcher, someone to keep her company when she could not sleep. Right now Theodore sat in a white wicker chair in the fat corner of the room. Charlie waved at him, but, not activated, he did not wave back.

After Theodore, the toys got more complex. Some work and some did not ; some seem to have permanent glitches while others simply did not appeal to Charlie's childish imagination. She knew her father took those back to his workshop and recycled them for parts, though she did not like to watch them be dismantled. But the ones that were kept, those she loved, they were here now, looking at her expectantly. Smiling, Charlie pushed a button beside her bed. It gave way stiffly, but nothing happened. She put it again, holding it down longer, and this time, across the room and with the weary creaek of metal on metal, the unicorn began to move. ... [....]

This happened. This was real. This is what he did to me.