Ok, before you comment, this fic has my own personal headcanons. I headcanon Springtrap both having epilepsy, and also being "alive", in a way. I'll be posting the first two chapters, and if you guys like it I'll add more. I plan on writing 7 chapters at the most. Also, this is my first FNAF fanfiction. Anyway, enjoy!

Oh no. It's happening again. Those Goddamn lights, I hate them. I fucking hate them. I growl and start to lose all sense of reality. All I can hear is my name in a gross, distorted voice, but no one is around. "Springtrap, Springtrap, Springtrap, Springtap,"

I fall from my stiff stance and slide down the wall. My whole body twists slowly to the side, I feel my nerves start to lose all sense of Being. My servos lock up, but still twitch. This is such an uncomfortable feeling, but it happens at least twice a week here. I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. Finally, I black out, left for dead.

"Springtrap! Springtrap, are you ok?" A feminine but scarily robotic voice is all I hear as my eyes flutter open. My head is pounding and I can barely understand what she's saying

"I.. I think so," I reply. Reality is starting to come back. The ghostly figures of the old animatronics circled around me. Every time this happens, they seem so worried about me. I don't know why, why they would want to help an old coot like me.

"You had another seizure, Springtrap. Are you ok?" Chica held my head up gently and helped me sit up. The truth was, I wasn't ok. I'm never ok after these ordeals. They're more severe than any normal human seizure, I've seen them in action, but I lied and said I was fine. Of course, I don't actually speak to these beings. I can't speak, my vocal programming broke up years ago, If I tried to speak, this god-awful hissing screech emits from me, instead of my old voice, it was soft and loving, but like how I wish to be again. I wish I could really talk again. I loved my voice. I loved my old self. But now I look chewed up and spit out, and I sound it, too. Instead, I can speak to these phantoms with my mind.

Why do the newer animatronics still like me, even after death? Don't they know my terrible secret? The murder that I committed? Don't they realize that I made a big mistake years ago? I feel as if they don't blame me, but a murder is a murder, no matter how awful the human is. That's how my programming makes me think, at least. My AI levels are too high for an old animatronic like me. I wish I would just die already, or at least be able to leave this place.