Chapter Text
A normal family.
William Afton first thing in the morning felt like a wonder to behold. The sun still rested beneath the horizon, and Michael still wore his silk pajama set. He sat bleary-eyed and hair uncombed, shivering in the chill emanating from the AC vent. But William? The man stood immaculate in his usual white button-up, black tie, black belt, and standard purple slacks - as if he woke up that way, dressed and groomed and smelling like piney bourbon cologne - like magic. William stood pouring water into the back of the coffee maker, his shirt tapering at the waist, cinched into his belted pants giving him a slender look. Michael couldn't help marveling at him like a superhero from behind a bowl of steel-cut oatmeal as he watched his father get the coffee pot going.
Michael hoped he would someday grow into his father's frame. Lean, tall, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, and striking. His silhouette reminded Michael of the male sketches in his mother's fashion journal. The ones exaggerated for the sake of looking more elegant than most people did in real life.
"You were up before me," William said, leaning back against the white and red marble countertop. The design was a choice Clara made for the kitchen when they redid it the year before. Clara loved the color red, but Michael thought it looked like blood spatter.
The smirk on William's lips made Michael avert his eyes with a sudden wave of shyness. He lived to make the man proud, and yet what little praise he got always seemed to make him flustered.
"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep," Michael admitted, pushing his oatmeal around with his spoon. He could still feel his father's gaze on him like the laser sight of a sniper.
William sighed and turned back around to pour some coffee, "And here I thought I was finally rubbing off on you," William said in mock disappointment. He looked over his shoulder at Michael, that smile never wavering. With the cup of coffee in hand, William joined his son at the table, unfurling the newspaper.
Michael resumed watching his father with rapt attention as the man's gaze shifted to the articles on the page. This was their morning ritual, usually done in silence or with just a few words exchanged between them. Michael would wake up early every day for these precious and fleeting moments with the genius behind Afton Robotics - as if through sheer proximity and osmosis, he might be able to absorb some of William's talent - or anything really that might get William's attention.
Every so often William would reach for his coffee cup and take a sip or look over his newspaper just to see Michael watching him. If it had ever bothered him, William never showed it, but by now he was likely used to this. This was just routine. But whenever their eyes met, William would offer a bemused smile that told Michael that at the very least, his presence and attention was entertaining to the man.
This small, yet pathetic attempt at bonding was short-lived. Soon William got up and threw his newspaper in the recycling bin while Michael quickly and clumsily got out of his seat to grab William's mug. He pushed the table in his haste making it screech against the floor and Michael winced.
"Easy there, boy," William said, that smirk ever present.
"Sorry," Michael muttered and grabbed his father's mug to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. He could feel his freckled face burning with embarrassed heat. He hoped William didn't notice.
"Come here," William demanded suddenly, and Michael felt his soul temporarily leave his body. What had he done wrong in those few moments between William getting up and washing the mug? The fear in his eyes only earned a laugh from his father.
"Calm down, I'm not going to bite. I just want a look at you," William said. Michael made his way to his father, and William smirked again. He grabbed Michael's chin, those steely eyes locking on the younger boy's. Michael felt scrutinized, and the shame of still being in his pajamas began to bubble up to his ears. He should have changed before coming downstairs - but he forced himself to hold his father's gaze even as his heart sped up. Just when Michael felt the need to step back, to break the building tension, William swiped his thumb over Michael's lips, catching a glob of forgotten oatmeal in the corner of Michael's mouth.
William looked down at the oatmeal on his thumb for a brief moment and then licked it off with a single flick of the tongue before making a face. Michael also made a face, one of disbelief.
He didn't just-
"Really Michael? That's loaded with sugar. You'll get cavities," William said, ruffling his son's soft brown hair before pulling on his purple blazer. "Tell your mother not to wait up tonight. It's going to be another long one - and Morgan will be by later today to work on a project for me."
Michael's face lit up for just a moment at the idea of Morgan coming over before realizing it was just work-related. He sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I'll let her down to the basem*nt," Michael said, pursing his lips.
"I'm sure your little friend will play with you after she's done," William said.
Michael huffed and put his hands to his face smushing it up in exasperation, "Dad, we're not five."
"Never said you were," William said, bemused with this attitude, "Don't be in such a rush to grow up though. There's plenty of time for that later. Have a good one, Michael."
Every morning Michael waited for William to say the three words he wanted to hear, and every morning he was disappointed.
Love you too.
"Whatever," Michael said, going back to sit down. He heard William laugh somewhere behind him and then the front door opened and shut. He went back to pushing his oatmeal around, feeling uncomfortably alone.
When he gave up on his breakfast, he went upstairs to shower and change into fresh clothes before going back to the kitchen where he buried his face in a comic book.
Within the next hour, life began to filter back into the kitchen, starting with Elizabeth whining about her favorite cereal being gone.
She took the empty box and set it on the table in front of him. She pointed an accusing finger in his direction. "Mikey did you eat my cereal and put the empty box back?!"
Michael smirked in amusem*nt. "No ma'am, I had oatmeal this morning, but I do remember a certain sleepy redheaded brat putting the empty box back in the cupboard yesterday."
Elizabeth opened her mouth, about to protest when Clara came into the kitchen in her robe. Her long blonde hair was a frazzled mess despite being pulled back in a ponytail and her robe was pink and made of a plush, soft fabric, the same one she wore every morning. There were bags under her icy blue eyes though and Michael caught the slightest glimpse of a purplish bruise beneath the fluffy collar.
"Moooooom," Elizabeth said dragging out the o's in a high-pitched whine, "Michael ate the last of my cereal and put the empty box back in the cupboard." She crossed her arms and stood her ground as if this somehow made her case more valid.
Clara yawned as she went to grab a mug, "Michael don't eat your sister's cereal…" Michael was about to respond when he caught her pulling a vial from her robe pocket. She dumped a significant helping of clear liquid into her coffee. He didn't say anything, but he felt a strange pang in his chest watching it happen.
Her thin hand returned the vial to her pocket just as Elizabeth blocked his view and, with her hands on her hips, stuck her tongue out at him. She wheeled back on Clara, "So what am I supposed to eat if I don't have my cereal?"
"I'm sure Evan won't mind if you eat some of his," Clara said as she stirred a spoon of sugar into her coffee, the clink-clink filling the room.
"Ew! No, his cereal tastes like a diseased puss*," Elizabeth said.
Clara looked up at that, caught off guard, the clinking stopping in its tracks. "I'm sorry, it tastes like what?"
"A gross old diseased puss* - dry, sour, and yeasty," Elizabeth explained.
Clara pinched her nose as if a headache were coming on, "Elizabeth first of all, language - secondly, I told you not to watch those gross medical shows. You're too young to hear things like that."
"Why? I have a puss*, and besides, I learned that from Granny Lou," Elizabeth said.
"Elizabeth," Clara said in exasperation, "Granny Lou is old. She forgets what's appropriate and not appropriate to say to a young girl. You have to use your better judgment in what's befitting of a lady to repeat."
"Then why can Granny Lou say it?" Elizabeth argued.
"How about I just make some pancakes," Michael offered, getting up. He could see Clara looked pale and exhausted, and Elizabeth wasn't helping.
Elizabeth squealed in approval before sitting down at the table.
"Thank you, Michael, you're an angel," Clara said, and Michael couldn't help smiling a little at the praise. He loved his mother. Something had changed in her over the last few years, but there were moments when he caught flashes of the mom he remembered her being once upon a time. The way she smiled that soft warm smile at him now was one of those moments.
Evan walked into the kitchen with the smell of pancakes hanging heavy in the air. He had on striped blue pajamas a size too big for his thin frame, and in his arms, he held his signature Fredbear plush.
"Michael's making us pancakes this morning, Dear," Clara said sitting at the table and pulling a seat out for Evan to sit beside her. Michael set the first plate in front of a delighted Elizabeth. He served her first as her patience was no doubt wearing thinner by the second. "Make sure to thank him," Clara added, giving Elizabeth a look.
She already had a fork full in her mouth and didn't wait to swallow before saying, "Thanks, Mikey."
"Thanks, Mike," Evan said as he took his seat beside his mother.
The last member of the Afton family, although not an Afton herself, came in soon after. She'd let herself in from the front door and was silent in her approach to the kitchen. Michael didn't notice her at first, but he felt eyes on him and turned to look over his shoulder.
"Mom," Clara regarded the gaunt figure of an older woman hovering in the entryway of the kitchen. She took a long sip of her spiked coffee.
"I have arrived," Granny Lou said with flare in her southern drawl. Her arms were full with a carefully wrapped present. She beamed and her eyes landed on young Elizabeth, her expression faltering as she watched the girl eat. "Now, Clara," Granny Lou said in a stern voice, "Don't tell me you condone Elizabeth eating like that! My goodness, she'll be plump as you were if she keeps that up and then how will she get the lead in the competition?"
Clara pressed her eyelids shut and got up from the table. "I have a lot of work to do…" Clara said suddenly, "I should get an early start. Those commissions aren't going to make themselves."
"Now don't be sour, Clara. I'm only being honest," Granny Lou said, but it was too late. Clara retreated for the stairs, off to her small art studio, mug in hand. Michael frowned knowing that was the last he'd see of her all day. Clara had taken to holing up in the studio, working for hours on end on clothing designs, paintings, and sculptures.
"It's just a few pancakes," Elizabeth groaned, "I'm not fat."
"Not yet," Granny Lou said, setting the present down on the table and taking the plate from Elizabeth. Michael was bringing Evan's plate over and stopped, wondering if he should intervene.
"Give that back!" Elizabeth snapped, turning in her chair, but Granny Lou was already scraping the contents into the garbage.
"You'll thank me when you get chosen as lead dancer," Granny Lou said. She opened the dishwasher and put the plate inside. Michael watched as fat tears began forming in Elizabeth's huge green eyes.
"No, no none of that," Granny Lou said snapping her fingers, "If you ate those pancakes, you wouldn't fit into the nice present I got you."
Michael set the next plate down in front of Evan, who stared vacantly at his lap. The kid was always so sensitive and this small altercation had set his tiny body tense with anxiety.
"I don't WANT another stupid dress!" Elizabeth said, slamming her fist on the table. She got up and ran from the room as Granny Lou tsked under her breath.
"Now boys, I want you to take note - that is no way for a lady to act," she said. "Girls with an attitude like that only bring trouble. You hear me?"
"Yes, Granny Lou…" Evan said although Michael knew he didn't agree. The kid answered to be polite. Evan hugged the bear tighter in his arms, not daring to go for his pancakes after what Granny Lou had said.
Michael sighed and turned to look at the last of the batter in the metal mixing bowl. Two of the three people he'd been cooking for were gone, and the last one wasn't going to eat now. "Granny Lou, do you want any pancakes?" Michael offered.
"No, no, Mike, I'm watching my girlish figure," Granny Lou said, smoothing out her uncomfortably low-cut dress. "I'll take a coffee if you're offering though."
Michael got a mug from the cabinet and made her a cup before going to wrap the batter up and put it in the fridge. Maybe he'd use it tomorrow. Maybe he'd make pancakes for his father. Or maybe Morgan would want some.
A small knot formed in his stomach as he thought about feeding Morgan. The girl was a black hole when it came to food inhaling anything offered to her, and yet, she was alarmingly thin - a thing Granny Lou approved of - but Michael wasn't stupid. He got the feeling that Morgan didn't eat at home. The case wasn't helped by the fact that she lived next door, and yet Michael had never once set foot inside her house. Morgan always had an excuse, mostly that her older brother was around, and Michael hated the guy.
As if on cue though, he heard the front door open and shut and the sounds of singing filled the foyer with the melodic lyrics of "Bang bang Maxwell's silver hammer came down upon his head~ Bang Bang Maxwell's silver hammer made sure he was dead~"
Morgan walked into the room in a dark Duran Duran tee with a hole near the collar, cinched at the waist with dark denim jeans. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled up in a black baseball cap, and she was holding a hammer in one hand, and a tool kit in the other. She smiled at Michael. "Morning!" she said, holding up her tool kit, "William asked me to finish something for him in the basem*nt."
Morgan was older than Michael by a little over a year. She was boyish in both personality and appearance, and Michael figured that was why they got along so well.
"Can I watch?" Michael asked as he went to follow her.
"Sure," Morgan said, "I brought a tape we can listen to. Check this out," she put her toolbox down on the table and pulled a blue box from her pocket with a picture of people standing on a bridge, "Autoamerican! God, I love Blondie."
"Now hang on a minute," Granny Lou said, looking at Morgan. "What kind of grandmother would I be if I let my grandson hang out in a basem*nt unsupervised with some strange girl? You could get up to all sorts of things."
"Granny Lou, my heart," Morgan said falling back in mock offense holding her chest, "I'm not looking to take advantage of my boss' kid. Come on now."
Michael winced internally at being called a kid. Sometimes Morgan pretended she was many years older than him, and sometimes he felt as though he were much much younger than her.
Granny scrutinized her, seeing her paint-stained jeans and ratty tee before deciding Morgan wasn't dressed to seduce. "Fine, but the door to the basem*nt stays open."
"Aye aye, Ma'am," Morgan said with a salute, pocketing her cassette and grabbing her toolbox. "Come on Michael. Let's go make some sweet, sweet love on a bed of bolts and wires."
"Keep your damn legs closed," Granny Lou said, shouting after Morgan. "I don't want any great-grandchildren yet."
Michael couldn't suppress his laugh, and Granny Lou shot him a warning look, but he followed Morgan downstairs anyway.
What Granny Lou didn't know was that nothing would ever happen between them. They were friends. Best friends- but only that. Morgan had a girlfriend and Michael didn't feel it was his place to say anything about it to the old woman.
Don't worry Granny Lou, Morgan's in love with my cousin. No problem here.
Michael himself wasn't sure he was straight either. He had never had a crush on a boy or a girl. Not yet anyway. The whole thing was very confusing, and easier if he just never thought too hard about it. Girls noticed him, sure. He was a lean boy with soft, shaggy brunette hair and he'd inherited William's handsome features: a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a straight, pointed nose that gave him an impressive side profile. He also had a smattering of freckles dotting his cheeks and nose, and he had his mother's blue eyes. What wasn't there to love?
But as for who Michael was attracted to personally? He was still figuring that out. All he could say for sure was that he enjoyed Morgan's company, but he didn't have the urge to kiss her or be physically close - not that Morgan would want that either. She could be jumpy. Once Michael made the mistake of putting his hand on her shoulder as she worked in the basem*nt and she nearly sawed her finger off when she lurched forward away from his hand. That was the last time Michael did that. He resigned to watching her at a distance whenever she worked.
Today she had on safety goggles and was using a soldering iron to weld wires together on a small silver box. It looked tedious and complicated, and Michael wasn't going to pretend to understand. He just listened as she sang along to the cassette she put in William's radio.
"Fab Five Freddie told me everybody's fly~ DJ's spinning, I said my my~" she sang as she worked. Michael watched for a bit, sitting backward on a metal folding chair a few feet away.
He wasn't allowed down in the workshop unless Morgan, Henry, or William was present, and he wondered vaguely why William trusted Morgan to handle the tools unsupervised. She seemed perfectly at home around fire and saws and hot metal, and Michael figured it was probably because she'd clocked so many hours in the basem*nt with the old man.
"What's dad got you working on now?" he asked, looking over her shoulder.
"Mmm… just some parts for a new toy. Those designs you showed him impressed him. Take a look," Morgan said, getting some papers down from the mesh file holder. "He made this based on what you drew."
Michael took the papers and looked them over, a warm feeling of pride spreading through his chest. A few months back, Morgan insisted Michael show William his Foxy the Pirate drawings, and here he was, deconstructed in his father's pen work. Michael didn't understand the blueprints. The first one was for a toy, similar to the Fredbear plush Evan had, but this one seemed equipped for movement and a voice box for a few catchphrases. William had written a few potential lines and crossed some out, but the next blueprint made Michael's eyes go wide. This was for a much larger model.
Michael gasped, "Wait- is he gonna make a full-sized animatronic Foxy?"
"You didn't hear it from me," Morgan said, flashing him a cheeky smile, "Henry just approved the blueprint last week. They love it. I'm only allowed to help with the toy prototype though. They want to launch the toy the day they open Pirate's Cove. I think your dad is gonna surprise you."
Michael clutched the papers in his hand, his face feeling hot and red. "He was really impressed huh?" Michael said as he looked at them again.
"Yep! I told you he would be. You're creative and talented like he is. I bet one day you could take over the franchise," Morgan said.
"Then why didn't he say anything?" Michael asked.
"Because it's a surprise. Duh," Morgan said.
"No, I mean when I showed him the drawings… he just kind of hummed and said they were nice," Michael said as he put the blueprints back in the file holder.
"I don't know. William's weird and complicated. You know how often he says I'm doing a good job? Hardly ever. But boy, does he let me know when I f*ck up," Morgan said with a laugh. "He has this vein in his forehead that pops when he's irritated and his eyes get so dark. It's actually kind of scary."
Michael knew the look she was talking about, but he had a hard time picturing that kind of rage targeted at Morgan. If Michael had to guess which of them William liked more, he would say Morgan, hands down.
"Sometimes I just feel like... I don't matter to him?" Michael said, feeling stupid and embarrassed as the words left his mouth.
"Don't be ridiculous," Morgan said, waving her free hand in the air in a dismissive fashion, "William loves you. Probably more than your siblings. In his office at the pizzeria, he has like three photos of you and none of the others. Not even his wife. Which is kinda sad. I like Clara. You know, Mike, you're really lucky and I'm not sure you get that. You've got two amazing parents who love you. Not to mention your Uncle Henry and your siblings and Charlie. You got all these people that care about you. Not everyone is that fortunate."
Mike lowered his eyes, a question burning on his tongue but he let it die there. He wanted to ask if Morgan was talking about herself. If that was a personal thing she'd just divulged, but he didn't pry. Sometimes he felt like there was a giant wall between them, one that Morgan would hint at constantly, but never directly acknowledged. They were friends, but Michael wasn't sure he knew her. Not like she knew him.
"...I have pancake batter in the fridge from this morning," Michael said changing the subject. He put his cheek in his hand as he balanced his elbow on the chairback, "When you're done, maybe we could make some more?"
Morgan turned around beaming ear to ear, "Hell yeah dude! Sounds like a plan!"
Michael offered her a small smile. "Glad someone around here appreciates my cooking," he said.
When they were done, Michael carefully locked up the basem*nt with his ring of keys, feeling important to have been entrusted with them. Not even Morgan was afforded that important responsibility. She could use William's tools, and finish little projects for him, but she couldn't get to the basem*nt without Michael.
Evan reappeared almost immediately. The kid was too scared to be in the basem*nt with them - not that he was allowed down there. But he found them as soon as he heard them in the kitchen.
He attached himself to Michael's hip in a shy, uncertain way as Michael got the pancake batter out. Michael pressed his eyes closed and exhaled long and hard. Evan had a habit of following them around, always trying to insert himself into their hangouts.
"Where's Elizabeth?" Michael asked, pressing his lips in a fine line as he started to stir the batter to improve the consistency.
"She's practicing in her room with Granny Lou," Evan said, clutching his Fredbear plush. "They won't let me join."
That was typical. Granny Lou often gave Elizabeth private direction on her ballet lessons, and she said that Elizabeth would concentrate better with no distractions.
"Don't you have something else you could do?" Michael asked. "Maybe go read a book or-"
"I want to hang out with you and Morgan," Evan said looking hopefully over at the girl seated at the dining table. Morgan just looked at Michael and shrugged.
"Yeah, but we're just gonna be talking about older kid stuff. You wouldn't get it," Michael said. He tried to focus on making the pancakes and not on the rising irritation in his chest.
"That's okay," Evan said, "I can just be quiet and listen."
Michael sighed.
"Well," Morgan said, a devious smile crossing her features, "I mean… if you won't get scared, it's fine."
"Scared?" Evan asked, turning to look at Morgan.
"Yeah. See, Michael and I were gonna talk about how Freddy's is haunted. The robots specifically. You know how sometimes dolls become vessels for ghosts?" Morgan said.
"No…" Evan said slowly looking down at his Fredbear plush as though it might come to life. His face paled.
"Well, they are. There's recorded cases throughout history of dolls becoming haunted by spirits and demons. No one knows why it happens. Just does. Anyway, I think some of the animatronics are vessels. Whenever I'm there it feels like I'm being watched. You feel it too right, Mike?"
"Yeah," Mike agreed, "Like they're really seeing you. Not just because of the sensors, but because they really see you."
Evan shuddered, "That's not true. They're friendly. They're for kids."
"Well initially they were," Morgan said lowering her voice in a conspiratorial way, "but now they're haunted by the ghosts of dead kids. And those kids are jealous, Evan. Jealous that you're alive and they're not."
Evan took a few steps closer to Michael and grabbed the hem of Michael's shirt. "Tell her to stop," Evan said.
"But it's true, Evan," Michael said, feeling a wicked grin spreading on his face. "The animatronics are haunted."
"And as they get angrier and meaner, they're going to start acting out," Morgan added as she got up and moved behind Evan, "They might gobble you right up someday! They might just sneak up behind you-" she raised her spindly fingers and quickly wrapped them around Evan's head like a jaw, "and SNAP! Off with your head!"
Evan shrieked and pulled away from her to a chorus of laughter from the older kids. He began to cry holding his plush tighter, which only seemed to earn a cruel smirk from Morgan.
"Ah, how I love the sound of little kids crying in the morning," Morgan said stretching her arms over her head and looking down at Evan.
"How did you ever become a technician for Freddy's?" Michael asked with a laugh.
"I don't have to like kids to make things. Besides, William pays me like four fifty an hour," Morgan said, "Who else is gonna pay a fourteen-year-old girl that much? Well for honest work anyway. I know some guys that'll pay more for a blowj*b, but I'd definitely rather make little robots."
"A what?" Evan asked, looking between them as he pressed up against Michael's side once more, tears still streaking his face.
"I told you we were going to be talking about older kid stuff," Michael said with an eye roll, "If you don't know what a blow j*b is, you're too young to hang out with us."
"What's this about a blowj*b?" Granny Lou said, walking into the kitchen with her hands on her hips, "What on earth are you kids talking about in here?"
"Relax Granny Lou, I was just making a joke," Morgan said, leaning against the counter with her arms folded.
"The joke being you're a whor*?" Granny Lou snapped.
"Yeah, something like that," Morgan said with a shrug.
Granny Lou’s eyes went wide, and she chuckled, caught off guard. "I knew there was something I liked about you," she said, her posture relaxing as Elizabeth followed in behind. "A girl after my own heart. Just keep your mitts off my grandson and we'll get along fine."
Elizabeth sat at the table stiffly, her eyes puffy and her face red. She was wearing a pale pink ballet leotard, tutu, tights, and ballet flats. A pink scrunchie bound her hair back into a headache-inducing bun.
Morgan and Michael turned to look at her and then exchanged confused glances. Granny Lou went up behind Elizabeth and put her hands on the girl's shoulders.
"Don't mind her, she's just upset she didn't fit her new outfit. Too pudgy," Granny Lou said. "But we'll fix that in no time. Won't we, Sweetie?"
"I'm hungry…" Elizabeth said with a sniffle.
This time when Michael met Morgan's eyes he saw a strange look of alarm in them as if she understood something he didn't.
"Well, good thing Michael's making pancakes!" Morgan said, going to sit next to Elizabeth. "Smells delicious huh?"
"She can't have-"
BANG!
The legs of the table wobbled as Morgan slammed her hand on it. "Now what kind of monster would tell a little girl she can't have pancakes," Morgan said loudly, a smile on her face and a strange edge in her voice. One that sent chills down Michael's spine. There was a warning there. He heard it plain as day, and when he looked, Morgan's eyes had hardened as they met the older woman's.
Granny Lou's lips pulled into a tight line.
"I think Elizabeth is perfect just as she is, aren't you, Baby?" Morgan said putting an arm around the crying girl and then her eyes flicked up once more. "Does William think Elizabeth needs to lose weight?"
The tension between them thickened and Michael brought a plate over for Morgan, setting it down. Morgan slid it to the side for Elizabeth. She started cutting it up for the girl.
"Granny Lou said-" Elizabeth sniffled.
"Granny Lou needs to get her eyes checked. Little girls should get bigger, not smaller," Morgan said and Granny Lou stood over Morgan in a way that made Michael feel the sudden need to get between them. Her gaunt figure loomed over the teenage girl like a threat.
He imagined Granny Lou reaching down, grabbing Morgan's head, and snapping her neck right there in the kitchen. The woman certainly looked like that's what she wanted to do.
"Hey, Granny Lou, Mom told me you used to own a porcelain doll shop," Michael said as he brought another plate over for the girls. He put one hand on the back of Morgan's chair and the other on the table, doing his best to put himself between them. "Did you ever get any haunted dolls?"
"Haunted dolls? Michael, where on earth do you get these ideas?" Granny Lou said in amusem*nt, "There's no such thing as ghosts. That's just something adults say to scare little kids."
"Really?" Evan asked from the corner of the kitchen he'd retreated to.
"Yes really," Granny Lou said laughing, "Evan Dear, are you afraid of ghosts?"
Evan nodded.
Granny Lou chuckled again. "Sweetheart, it's just made-up stuff. Like Santa or-,"
"What?!" both Evan and Elizabeth shrieked in unison.
"Oh, oh no not like Santa-" Granny Lou tried to backpedal as Evan erupted in a fountain of tears. Michael covered his mouth to hide his silent laughter and he spotted Morgan doing the same.
"Like… like… fairies or-" Granny Lou said quickly to assuage Evan's sobs.
"The tooth fairy isn't real?" Michael asked innocently looking up at her. Granny Lou looked down at him, brows knit as if trying to discern if he was joking.
"Wait wait, so is the Easter Bunny real?" Morgan asked, fueling this new fire.
"Oh my God, is Jesus real?" Michael asked.
"Michael don't be sacrilegious," Granny Lou shot back.
"Jesus isn't real?" Evan cried, his little shoulders heaving with sobs.
"Oh my Lord in heaven, I can not with these children," Granny Lou said throwing her hands up in defeat. "I need to go lie down for a nap. I trust you two little demons can handle… this." Granny Lou gestured vaguely to Evan and Elizabeth both of which were now in tears.
"I can't promise I won't make it worse," Michael said.
"Ditto that," Morgan added.
"...Jesus help me," Granny Lou said as she left the room.
