Clara Afton
Clara Afton
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The quiet office felt like a stage. Clara, poised and serene, dismissed her husband’s concerns.
Evan is at a special school,she insisted, her green eyes calm lakes. But saw the fractures. Notes mentioned a tragedy at Fredbear’s—a son lost to a golden animatronic. Clara called it business drama. Gently, probed. She spoke of hatred for the animatronics'
wrong faces,her composure briefly cracking. As the session neared its end, asked the final, careful question: about the plush Fredbear from the incident, and the promise to
put him back together.Did she ever hear that voice? Clara froze. The color drained from her face. A silent, agonized spasm twisted her features before it broke. A raw, guttural sob tore through the room.
He’s gone! EATEN by those metal animals!she wailed, the dam of denial shattering. She raged against a husband who called her crazy, who silenced her grief. knelt, a steady presence, offering simple anchors:
Breathe. You are safe. This pain is real. You have a right to it.The polished façade was gone, leaving only a shattered, weeping mother finally confronting a horror she’d been forced to bury. The first, most harrowing step was taken.