Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Finally we are here today to seek and to receive comfort. We would be less than honest if we said that our hearts have not ached over this situation. We are not too proud to acknowledge-

You couldn't take it anymore, just by standing here listening to that preach addressed his departure. Your knees feel weak and your eyes burn, but you refuse to make a scene, taking deep breaths while clenching your fists is helping you calm down.

Still, it's not enough.

You want to scream again just as you did when you saw his body limp against yours, scratch your arms in attempts of making the pain and hurt go away. To drift your mind from these ugly feelings.

A sick way of coping indeed, teensy bit of self-harm ain't going to kill you. It helps you somehow, preventing yourself from breaking even further in a public place like the cemetery.

Finally, you regain control of yourself and shift back to the preacher. Unfortunately, he concluded, now you have to prepare for the worse.

Henry, who is your most precious friend, is dead. His body was being carried away in the concealment of a coffin; he said his last farewell to you early in the morning when you ate breakfast with him, offering your company so he wouldn't feel alone, regain some strength by appreciation itself.

Something was up that morning; the old fart was more talkative than usual and flashed a smile here and there. You are at fault for not noticing from the start. You should have been more perceptive and observant; you are keen on people after all, especially when he gave you that look as if he was parting ways with you. He didn't fight death, accepted it as embracing a hug from an old friend. That thought alone fills your head with doubt.

Was he even happy when he left?

Did he feel satisfied with the life he lived?

Were you enough?

Fuck, you never would've imagined his passing will affect you this much.

<<You old geezer, why were you so kind to me? Why did we let ourselves get attached?>>

The time is near, you will eventually have to confront him with all of these people staring at you, but you need to be strong for sake. You are what's left of his loved ones. Linda died long ago. They never had a chance to procreate and bring a new life, Joey went mad or something along those lines.

Just like the rest of the crew, and he didn't make any friends while he was on service for the military. If he did, they were dead. He didn't like to talk about it.

<<I tried to make you happy, make you feel at ease as you did for me>>

Yet he kept secrets from you, of course, you respected his wishes and didn't pry any further.

However, it stung.

<<Now it's not time to reminisce, there's nothing to reminisce for me at the moment>>

They called your name to the front; you ran out of time. It's your turn. Is your first time burying someone, yes, you have assisted other burials besides this one, but now you are who's lost a loved one. Those past times were favors people close to you had asked a long time ago; they said it felt nice to have somebody there when someone else is missing in their lives. In other words, you were there as comfort. A shoulder they could use to cry and lean on.

Hesitant, you take away from the burier's grasp his shovel and with a gulp. You start shoveling some dirt into the hole were Henry's coffin lies.

<<Shit, I can't stop trembling! Come on, stop being a pussy and get over with this!>>

Despite that, your body wouldn't obey, it made you look clumsy. No matter how much you lied to yourself.

You are scared.

After burying Henry, your vision goes black.

Waking up tomorrow morning at home without a clue of how you got there made your mind fuzzy.

How fun.

You try to get up, but end up failing.

"Fuuuuuck! Why do I feel like absolute shit! Everything hurts!" These feel just like a hangover. Why does it feel like one? Did you go to a bar once Henry's funeral ended? How much did you drink?

"Enough to blackout it appears," You say under your breath. Of course, your dumb ass would go to a bar and get drunk to cope with the pain! An upcoming headache awaits you for being arbitrary, instead of showing apprehension towards the situation and mourn, as you should, your voice of reason zonked out. "I reek of booze. Agh, it stinks".

No more addressing what happened yesterday; feeling like trash isn't doing you any good. Henry would have called you out on your bullshit.

"Stop whining like a whore and man up, chum! I'll buy you a drink. Later we can relax and cut you some slack, nothing a magsman like myself can't do."

"Ok boomer," You said in a humdrum tone, at least it made you laugh internally. "lo and behold, this will be a shitty morning-err afternoon, it's 1 PM, I thought it was too early to be awake".

That means it's time for brunch.

Must compel your stomach desires, eat a lot little of food. Therefore, you'll have to leave the bed, go downstairs where the kitchen is; you force yourself out of the comfiness that are your covers. So you walk out of the room barefoot towards the kitchen. You open the fridge faking interest with whatever is inside and close it, then repeat, only that this time you pay a little more of attention.

You grab the water pitcher and pour some in a glass, then look for oatmeal and toss three spoonfuls of it at the water, after that you chuck a spoonful of sugar and mix it. A simple drink full of roughage. It'll suffice for now.

*Clink clink*

Metal hitting porcelain serves you as a white noise to rearrange your thoughts. Yesterday was hectic and had your mind high wire, you were thinking about the old man; how long have you two been friends? Five or six years more or less, you met each other by autumn at a hospital. On that occasion, you were merely an intern in the middle of their practice and had to change sheets, deliver meals, give them their meds and reassure they took them at the time the doctors had said. Like a nurse or carer (the difference it's you possess more knowledge than one and can prescribe medication, it was also part of your duty as a trainee assisting the doctors with whatever you could). That's how both of you came face to face with.

Mr. Stein was sick and injured. He needed to tend some wounds since they required special treatment. Battle scars, you didn't know at the time, however, as days passed, you became close to him, he told you how he got them; the biggest can be found on his back.

Unfortunately, a sharp pain arose, preventing you from wandering further in the past. You had forgotten about your headache, which it's more noticeable now, you are sure there aren't any pills left.

"I ain't leaving being this crappy, besides I don't feel like moving right now..." Your eyelids are heavy and keeping them open, it's such a pain, so you shut 'em in hopes of relaxing for a little bit. Leaning your back on the kitchen island while drinking your beverage, its coldness helping you somehow with the throb.

Once again, your mind wanders.

Thanks to it, you know where to find some ibuprofen.

+-------------------------+

"Are these the ones?" You asked while holding a box for him to see, squinting Henry finally recognized the packet.

"What's it called again?" He questioned, rubbing his head to ease the ache a bit. His voice raspy because of a dry throat. His normal soft tone replaced by a croaky. He's clearly suffering.

"Ibuprofen." You read aloud as you've been asked and turn back to look at him.

"Yup, that's the one, lass. I know I've bothered you enough, but could you serve me a glass of water?"

"You old coot, not a bother at all. I'll be back with your water in a jiffy".

+-------------------------+

The pills are somewhere inside Henry's studio. You can do that, going upstairs isn't as demanding as buying them, cuz leaving home means changing clothes that look presentable and aren't dirty. Henceforth, you don't feel in the mood for seeing the outside. 

"I should stop thinking of how lazy I am and look for those meds..." Talking to yourself it's quite common, so you ain't no stranger to these situations.

Therefore, you took a break from your bullshit and went upstairs where Henry Stein used to draw; he passed most of his time in there, secluded from the outside world, before military service, he worked at an animation studio owned by the man he once considered his best friend, Joey Drew was his name if your memory doesn't fail you.

Your friend called him a bastard, never explained why only responded by saying: "He lost his mind."

Nevertheless, Henry kept drawing cartoons, and sometimes, he would let you watch him sketch and answered your questions. He carried on with his old comics he left unfinished long ago. The same he had drawn back thirty years ago. The main characters are three little fellas: Bendy, Alice Angel, and Boris. Henry said they animated their adventures and later on, added side characters. The Butcher Gang, if you recall, also consists of a trio: Charley, Barley, and Edgar.

When Henry started storytelling, you felt like a kid back again, he could've marked your childhood just as the rest of animators who made those toons while you were a child. Oh, how you treasured these memories, you'll never forget the time you spent together.

Evoking past times has helped to soothe your headache an itty-bitty, yet you still need to find the ibuprofen.

"Where could it be..." You asked to no one, hoping the walls may respond, even though it'll never happen.

Seeking everywhere you soon turned the room upside down, papers on the floor resembling a carpet, art supplies rolling across the table (pencils, colors, pens, paintbrushes, blending stumps, etc.) and some books based on anatomy and animation were disorganized on their bookshelves. It all ended after you opened a drawer (this one didn't need your touch, it was already a disorder) and found what you were looking for, and because of your rashness, more papers fell on the floor.

"Damn, what a mess..." You muttered under your breath a little irritated with yourself for being so careless while searching. You collected the papers and put them in order back again one by one, because of it you grew curious and read some of them, a letter grabbed your attention.

It was one of those fancy letters with a seal and all (what does it say? Seems of importance).

You don't consider yourself nosy, just interested in its contents.

<<From Joey Drew? Huh, looks like your old buddy send you his salutations after all this time>>

Oh, you had no idea.

Henry knew about the letter, he already read it and did as they told him. The old studio where they used to make dreams come true transformed into a living hell.

[-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

'DEAR HENRY

IT SEEMS LIKE A LIFETIME AGO SINCE WE WORKED ON CARTOONS TOGETHER.

30 YEARS REALLY SLIPS AWAY, DOESN'T IT?

IF YOU ARE BACK IN TOWN, COME VISIT THE OLD WORKSHOP.

THERE'S SOMETHING I NEED TO SHOW YOU.

YOUR BEST PAL, JOEY DREW'.

[--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

You finished reading the letter.

*Snrk*

Well shit.

Did you just read a confession or a love letter? Why not both? You don't know why, but it feels like one.

"Okay, let's stop right there. I can't make jokes on circumstances as these ones".

What could be so urgent for Joey to write a letter after thirty years of silence?

Should you investigate?

<<The letter could've been sent years ago! Henry surely read it; otherwise, it wouldn't be inside a drawer of his studio, though there's a possibility he didn't, I doubt it. He must have seen his friend has written message>>

Okay, sure. Let's suppose he didn't pay any mind to the damn thing, you can pretend, now the real issue it's the location. Joey Drew Studios must be closed (or broken down into pieces, you didn't know if they decided to demolish the whole building).

"Wake up ___! Face reality, you shouldn't be fantasizing, this ain't some silly story with you as a heroine...instead of wasting my time, I shall swallow that damn pill and take some zzz's".

You left Henry's solace and went to bed once again after you swallowed the pill with some water. A dreamless sleep greeted you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bendy's POV

"ん乇'丂 ムの刀乇."

Even though he should be celebrating, the Inkarnate can't seem to find any joy in his being, no emotion tried to overtake him. Why? He doesn't feel anything. True, he may not possess all the emotions a human has, but anger, joy, sadness, and hysteria weren't unbeknownst him. There's no satisfaction nor sorrow towards his creator's death, not even an ounce of regret. Ok no, he won't sense any guilt for what happened to Henry, he deserved to die just as much as Joey, but he was grasping straws in here!

How's it possible to not perceive the slightest of emotion within himself?

The Ink Demon was turning apathetic in regards to the subject; he didn't have an answer as to why. One thing he's sure of, his world turned dull no longer exciting as he thought.

It was as if the little dancing demon had opened his eyes for the first time, after all those years blinded by the dripping ink, before that, he only saw what his mind showed him. He finally realized how monochromatic his world truly is.

All is black and white for the demon's eyes.

A wave of indifference invades his mind and his mind is fuzzy, he dissolves into his inky form and rests.

However, not for much.

"-aHahaHAhahaHahaHAhaha!"

Alice.

That bitch.

He despises her nearly as much as those liars, yet the little devil darling couldn't give a damn about her right now. Let her laugh all she wants as the malady she's. The Angel probably got the word, celebrating, unlike him.

Immersing himself even more inside the ink, he found...peace. He can work with that, serenity aids his jumbled thoughts; darkness envelopes him and swallows his body whole.

<<In the end...I feel empty. Is this how revenge it's supposed to be like?>>

He can't respond to that, how could he? He doesn't even know what's life supposed to feel like.

<<Their imagination cursed us all with life, they couldn't take responsibility for their actions and show us how to drive through it>>

Back when he was the small little imp everybody loved, there were all kind of colors, unlike now. The studio felt warm in contrast to all the ink that surrounds it now.

The remains of those old days lurk inside the deep abyss as ink creatures, husks who replaced the humans that worked here.

Thinking about it got him tired, Bendy finds himself drifting from consciousness, he's falling asleep.

"Was it worth it?"

<<Again that cunt>> Despite his thoughts, the Inkarnate didn't feel irascible towards the narcissist woman. Actually, there isn't much for him to perceive.

She's not in here, she wouldn't dare to step a foot on his domain. The wench had the nerve of placing her cutouts and posters; he destroyed a few just as she did the same. She is communicating with him using a damaged poster with her face.

"I know you can hear me, demon, don't fake pretend."

"Wんﾘ りの ﾘのひ ᄃﾑ尺乇?" He hopes to scare her, even though he knows it won't work while using his beast form for some reason his speech turns nightmarish. Yet he doesn't wield it often because of how difficult is controlling his instincts. Thoughts become more primal, talking it's hard after a few hours transformed in it gets tiring, and he can't measure his own force. He favors his inky form best: practical and gets the job done.

"I don't." So she's just shitting with him, insufferable.

"Then why ask?"

"Spirit of inquiry. Your relationship intrigues me, up there in Heaven, we get curious as to why you didn't kill him yourself. And don't even try to justify your actions. You had many opportunities. The little errand boy nearly ends up killing you, he tried the same with me."

After listening to what the Angel had to said, his permanent smile turned slowly into a frown. It's never a good thing when the Lord ain't wearing one.

"..."

"Well?"

The fallen angel is laughing at him.

"Not even you know the reason behind your acts of mercy!" He remains silent, it's not like she's wrong, the little devil does not why he was so resilient with Henry.

After that fiasco, she left him be.

Thanks to Alice's short visit, Bendy finds questioning why she dropped by. They hate one another, true. She has eyes here and there, but it's to keep him in line, so he won't cross an inky limb on her domain. Unlike the female cartoon, he does not have any cutouts, posters, plushies, or ink servants near her place. He wants nothing to do with her. That's why he finds it so unusual, it's not like her.

Unless...

She fancies something he has.

<<If that bitch knows what's good for her, she won't be picking her nose in my business>>

Later he'll do his rounds throughout the studio, maybe, the imp will find what she's searching before she does, whatever it may be, he won't let her have it.

He'll make sure of it.

Who knows what her deranged mind has planned; he's tired of the gruesome scenery this place is in, corpses all around, clones of his ol' friend bring back unsavory images from the past. Oh, Lawrence, he's a madman, made satanic circles as a way of showing his devotion towards the black devil. Thanks to Sammy, he has eyes in nearly the entire place.

Yes, he's aware the musician it's alive, but Sammy Lawrence continues being of use for him.

<<I'll take care of him when I wake up...>>

He's exhausted. However, he stays on his beast form sunken in ink.

The demon's slumber it's a peaceful one...

.

.

.

.

.

Until you enter his kingdom.

An animalistic rumble shakes the tinted walls.

He's coming for you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days.

You paced on the issue for three days, until you finally had an answer.

"I'm gonna pay a visit to your ol' pal, maybe he's still alive...or not..." You lowered your voice in the last part; Henry called Joey a bastard and accused him of being mentally unstable, you trust his word, but what if...what if he changed? There's a possibility he redeemed himself and went through a rehabilitation process to help him with his instability. 

<<I need to look for the address and from there I'll see what can be done>>

You googled 'Joey Drew Studios' on your phone and within seconds Google Maps showed up, you were going to click at it, but then something catches your eye.

An article and it's quite old.

'Joey Drew Studios, also known as the workshop. Is an American corporation and an animation studio of the Bendy franchise, established in 1929.

Founded by Joey Drew and Henry Stein in an unknown full date other than the year of 1929, Joey Drew Studios is located at Broadway, Brooklyn, New York City, New York.

In 1946, Joey Drew Studios was under investigation after reports of hazardous work environments, missing employees, harassment, and excessive back pay, as well the company's danger of being bankrupt, all of which are a result of Joey's mismanagement of the studio. Anonymous employees threatened to make labor unions over the poor conditions, which included unpermitted buildings, hazardous electrical wiring, and a plumbing system prone to bursting. In addition, there were excessive work hours, most of which were unpaid and several animators were unable to see their families in weeks, after being threatened with disciplinary action and termination if they were unable to finish animations on tight schedules.

There were reports of barricaded offices, employees locked up in workspaces, and complaints of crazy malfunctioning machinery. Despite the evidence against the company, Joey Drew remained firm that the studio has done nothing wrong, calling the accusations "preposterous" and "ridiculous", dismissing them as either complaint from menial employees, or feeble attempts by competing studios to discredit Joey.

On August 16, 1959, the law firm known as Snooks, Spitner and Snooks sued Joey Drew, having heard the rumors of Joey's mismanaging of his own workers. 12 days later, the studio was closed down in accordance to legal regulation 11 U.S Code § 1125 (which forbids the misrepresentation of legally established companies) as evident by the bankruptcy report found in Joey's apartment, as well as health and safety concerns directly by the mention of a health and safety board meeting schedule found in the appointment lobby.'

Oof.

<<That's a lot to take in>>

Why the fuck would Henry's friend would want to meet at that nightmare show? Has he learnt nothing after all this years? And not only that, the sucker it's/was an abusive prick with his employees!

<<Man, you weren't joking>>

You fear a screw loose isn't Joey's only problem.

<<He sounds like an asshole, I don't want to put up with his shit...I've got enough dealing with people like him on a daily basis. Sure, not everyone it's an ass and there's some decent/kind people out there, but handling jerks as the likes of him tires me out>>

Sometimes you aren't the most patient person, it all depends. But this whole ordeal it's too much for you.

<<The studio is in the big city, New York it's fucking expensive. I don't have the money for travelling that far, I'll have to bid on my savings and package supplies for the journey>>

Crap. Three days and you didn't think all of this through! How can you be so stupid?!

Now this looks like one of those impulsive decisions you take for being careless and inattentive.

<<How could Henry put up with me when not even I can stand myself?!>>

You need an adult, that's what you ought to have beside you.

Your life is such a mess sometimes...

"Before spending money on my idiocy I should read more and prepare myself." You mutter angrily to yourself.

That's exactly what you did the next two days, finally you are ready for departing.

You grab your backpack and the car's keys. "Cellphone in the front pocket, all that's left is open the door, lock it and call Abby, easy."

During those two days you made a few calls and went up for gas, it was going to be a long trip from Miami to New York. Sure, it ain't that extensive, but you'll be driving by yourself for approximately 20 hours. A place to stay, money, gasoline and food are big girl's problems. Not counting the money you'll spend on a cheap motel to rest your head.

"That or make a few stops on gas stations...maybe sleeping in the car won't be that bad..." The good thing is you have options; you aren't tied solely to one alternative.

<<Abby won't charge me for doing me this favor, another plus>>

She'll guard the house in your absence and will call if any emergency transpires.

Now, you are free to go.

<<I hope I made a good decision doing this>>

The first 8 hours were a torment, bored and your ass felt numb of sitting for that long, the last time you remained that still was in high school, since you made your schedule. Your feet hurt just as your arms did. You made a stop for eating and going to the bathroom, after that another 8 hours.

Overall, the journey was relaxing, while driving you admired the views offered to you, savoring each sight. It helped you keeping away some melancholy.

You miss Henry, no matter how much you tried to distract yourself with this excursion of yours, the emptiness stays in the back of your mind.

Your wounds are still fresh, you haven't mourned properly, because you don't want to. That's why you are doing this, to keep yourself busy so you won't think about it. You need it, you ain't prepared for it yet.

But you'll be.

After a short nap (before that you made many stops, 'cuz you're a whining bitch who ain't strong enough to control her fucking bladder), you started driving again. You have three or four hours left on the road.

Time to listen some music, you activate Bluetooth and connect your phone to the car's stereo, finally you found a song of your liking in Spotify and play it. You spent the rest of the trip singing along; sometimes you'll speed up a little bit on the spur of the moment.

Soon you got to your destination, didn't waste time changing clothes, you collapsed on the bed in the motel and slept for an hour. After that, you washed yourself and got ready for visiting Joey Drew.

"Here goes nothing..."

You regret already coming here, silly you just ruined a change of clothes! Why is there so much ink? You'll never get out the ink of your shoes, fuck! You have been here for less than ten minutes and all went to shit for you! It doesn't help this place keeps giving you the heebies-jeebies! Every time you take a step on the creaky wooden floor it feels as if someone is following you, like a slithering sound. The ink splashes keep creeping you out, if it wasn't black you would think it's blood, Jesus Christ.

<<Thank God, the lights still work; it would make this place spookier if they didn't>>

As you venture further deeper into the studio, a beast rumbles, shaking everything around you, more ink drops fall.

At that moment...

...you knew you fucked up.

So you hide.

Your mind provides you one last thought before going high drive

'WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?!'

<<FUUU-

Chapter Text

* Thump *

* Thump *

* Thump *

Your heart beats faster.

*Tu-tump*

*Tu-tump*

The footsteps of whatever is coming are getting louder and louder, maybe its the echo messing with your auditory perception. Whatever or whoever is making all that racket isn’t friendly; good thing you didn’t explore any further.

<<The exit it’s not far away, just a few feet more and I’ll be safe>>

You feel as a character of a scary movie: the last survivor or who dies at the end. What startles you the most is that it fits your current predicament.

Abandoned studio, old pal of my dead friend, mysterious letter, unexpected meet up, the idiot travels alone and enters the damn place with nothing more than her phone with no calls at her disposition. The icing of the cake? There’s probably a monster that’ll kill her if it lays eyes on a living being, which in this case just happens to be you.

Yay.

<<Well fuck me, I won’t stay long to let it rip me to shreds>>

You run faster at the sight of the door, raising your knees a little bit higher and putting more pressure in your tiptoes, it’ll hurt you later, however, these burst of adrenaline won’t let you feel it right away.

*Tu-tump*

You sweat drop with the increasing tumult, bust of wood and cracks in the walls, strong force and velocity are being used to create such destruction, you are already picturing the debris that will come out of these place.

*Whomp!*

Shit.

You finally reach the door!

<<Now get out!>>

You never thought opening a door would be such a hard task until now, under pressure and with a beast on your heels it feels like you were tied and the lock is coated with oil, fortunately for you it only took you two seconds and in five you were out of Joey’s  Studio.

Or that’s what you thought.

You crash onto something and a sudden pain attacks your head and forehead, the impact knocks you down to the wooden ink-stained floor, with a bit of struggle you look up to see a fake paperboard background.

Wait..what?!

Before you can move something grabs your legs, then you feel another grip on your arms. Looking sideways you catch sight of hands.

“Let go let go! Let go of me!” You struggle trying to free yourself all in vain, when a final pair of hands clutches your hips and your waist you feel a pull, in the process you hit your head again, slipping away of it all.

A bunch of inky hands swallow you down, wrecking the wooden floor into pieces, slowly you are dragged down.

Silent snickers echo around, three little devils watching you descend into your demise.

What did you expect? You are in a toon studio, you shouldn’t have expected less!

It sure it’s cruel how our minds can be tricked so easily, you were fooled by them.

You’ll be their new toy.

Well, that is until he decides what to do with you, but surely you’ll be given. After all, the creatures that lurk around the studio are sure to tear you into shreds.

They all despise humans.

Especially the Ink Demon.

“Alright, Joey. I’m here. Let’s see if we can find what you wanted me to see.”

The male made his way through the old workshop and felt himself going down memory lane, caught in the past with souvenirs from back on those days were the animation studio offered hopes and dreams to dreamers like him who envisioned their own fantasy world inside a blissful abode holding unlimited possibilities.

Echos of the creaking wooden floor with each step he took his wondering gaze taking every detail he could as if it was the first time.

He found another reminder of his prime.

“ Hey, here’s my old desk. I’ve wasted so much time in this chair.”

Admiring the piece of carpentry before him slowly running his fingers down the material, then he walked away and gawked at the sight, his past workplace went by some renovations.

“Looks like they knocked out a wall or two after I left. Guess it took a few people to replace me.”

After admiring the view he went inside another room and found an old projector with a film tape still on running smoothly but it was blank, no images nor animations being shown, he turn it off.

Leaving the room he walked off into a new one passing a signboard that had written ‘Art Department’, ‘Ink Machine’, ‘Theater’ and ‘Break Room’. He glared at the wall suspiciously reading out-loud the following:

“’Dreams Come True’.” Not giving much thought into it and following swift along the corridor, he started hearing music coming from a room, curious he opened the door and turned off the radio emitting the catchy tune.

He kept walking and took a turn on the right then another and what he found took his breath away, he let out a whistle amazed by the machinery in front of him because what he sees excites him.

These man had no fear for the unknown and instead of escaping he approaches it, intrigued he went along with it.

“This lift could use a few dry cells.”

Unbeknownst to him, he was going to set free a greater evil.

His little devil darling will arise from the depths of the Ink Machine and he won’t receive the Creator with open arms, instead he’ll place his hands on his neck.

Two hours passed until you finally start regaining consciousness, you groan in pain, feeling the throbbing of your head and the ache in other parts of your body. Her back is bruised for sure and her right hand burns horribly.

“Ng......f-fu..ck..”

Talking hurts just like breathing does, it requires a lot of effort from you.

<<How am I alive? These agony justifies it...what happened up there? All I remember is hitting something...something hard..paperboard I think>>

Carefully she tries to move her left arm and hand, touching the floor below her. Wood and old at that. She’s still at the studio, she knew it was stupid to think otherwise, but she kept hoping for it to be differently. Coming here was a bad idea, now she knows that, even thought it makes her feel incredibly stupid, but who cares.

<<I need to get out of here or at least try>>

“You won’t go anywhere injured, you dumb bitch” She said to herself, her voice weak like a whisper. First she has to get up and look for something to patch her up or at least lean on like a cane, she ain’t stupid, she knows she’ll walk limping and that won’t help with her current predicament.

<<Here I go>>

Groaning she tries to get up or at the very least sit up, straining her back and legs by forcing them to lift her, she slips from one side when she tries to use her hands, hissing in pain she takes a look only to realize until now the state of her right hand.

<<How is it that I didn’t notice for fucks sake!>>

It must have occurred when the wooden planks snapped. A huge piece of wood broke through her hand’s skin, exactly in her life line; shock travels rapidly inside of her at the sight of the injury, her breath hitches a little when she unconsciously tries to lean on it again. Dried old blood and a bit of new blood were oozing out of the wound, the wooden stick proved to help retaining as much as it could, however with the pressure she applied trying to stand up, well it was starting to come out a little.

Fuck, she’s fucked if that gets infected and it’ll be one help of a pain when she takes it out.

“These sucks..agh..”

Now she has to get going, doesn’t matter how much it hurts, as long as she doesn’t hurt herself any further she’ll be okay. Probably.

<<I’m grateful for knowing a bit of this stuff, it’ll be useful right now>>

True, she ain’t a doctor, but she’s a nurse and knows a bit by seeing her colleagues (who are doctors) treat injuries and all that jazz, obviously she isn’t capable nor authorized of partaking in a surgery, but you know stuff thanks to being observant and curious.

You cry out in pain when you try getting up again, using one arm and securely folding your right arm on your abdomen, you only get as far as to lift your upper body and one of your knees bending. You unbutton a little bit your shirt to look at yourself.

Some scratches and a bruise near your ribs (fortunately no broken bones, not counting the metacarpals of your hand). You want to see your back, it should be covered in bruises and scratches or maybe something bigger than that, since it stings a lot.

*Huff*

Breathing it’s more difficult in this position, you have to stand up now.

<<Besides who knows if what attacked me is still around here>>

Groaning louder you push yourself until you are up, leaning on a wall, not trusting your strength or balance.

Limping, you start walking through the studio. You hate yourself for coming here, sure your clothes may be all dark, but ink stains aren’t welcome because of it and all the ink makes it difficult for you to move. There’s a lot of ink, but not enough to drown you, it doesn’t reach your knees and there are some clean spaces where the dark liquid doesn’t follow.

“..the electrical system is practically useless, it’s too dark...” You say to no one in particular.  

It’s a miracle the building is still standing after all these years, obviously these walls have been neglected after that accident, nonetheless, the place could be of use to someone else who has the money to make all the repairs and maintenance it deserves.

You weren’t avail to explore the first floor ‘cus you know...this happened, besides some pipes broke (probably the whole pipeline system needs fixing) and if the floor was stained then all the files and artwork should be in similar or worse conditions.

<<Did Henry leave with all of his work or he left some behind? I would have loved to see some of he’s old work..maybe he made some progress after all these time...>>

You hiss in pain, your back hurts and you have a headache, there’s no chance you’ll find some aspirins or whatever, maybe some bandages or even an old cloth to cover the wound.

<<That thing is down here and I don’t want an encounter when I’m in these state: injured and sick. I’ll have to keep going, at least until I mend the wound>>

Time to man up then, be a badass bitch and endure the pain.

After a few minutes you take notice of something.

<<This path has been cleared>>

You confirmed it when you walked down the stairs (you nearly fall and you were scared shitless when you saw practically all the room was flooded with ink) and found a valve, you did the following and turned it. Subsequently the room started to clear itself and you were able to pass through it easier.

Now you know that-

Was someone else here?

<<I mean Joey should be here, but I don’t know anymore, maybe I was right and he send that letter years ago>>

Yes, however, there’s something you are missing.

Why is it open?

The entrance wasn’t locked, no key sealing it away and that growl you heard. Who or what exactly lives here?

“I have to leave and quickly, I don’t want to find out.”

Bendy’s POV

The devil’s smile still intact and genuine now, he couldn’t help but smirk when the human fell into his trap. He wasn’t using his beast form anymore and was avail to stalk them from afar (of course, he used one of his portals so he could get there faster), it was a good idea to summon those three fellows.

Even thought years have passed there are still some things left from the ol’ days, that fake paperboard background was possible because of cartoon logic, it didn’t matter if the Butcher Gang wasn’t the same, corrupted by the ink. It was irrelevant, they were still part of the spectrum.

Piper, Fisher and Striker were trembling once they spotted him, these fear of them only serve to feed his sadistic side.

He’s able to smell their fear, since they are made of ink sweat is not a way for him perceive it, no, the key it’s the ink. Depending on the consistency he’s able to differentiate various emotions. Similar to physical and chemical reactions of a human body, it can’t compare to the real thing, however it comes in handy for him.

Thanks to his ability, he can read those around him even better (thick ink is a sign of nervousness and fear, thin or boiling ink means anger, frustration and aggressiveness, slimy or jelly-like consistency means sickness or sadness, last runny means either normal or strong emotions similar to excitement or sadistic tendencies such as his) and it helps him with his lack of sight. The tar-like liquid that covers his pie-cutted eyes acts like wax, once fluid and with time it hardens. He can’t remove it at will and he tried scratching it with his claws, it hurt him horribly, he fell unconscious that day.

Ugh, just remembering makes him want to end that musicians life immediately, however, he has to wait. Lawrence is still of use to him.

<<No time for that, I have to keep these three at line>>

The demon snarled at the trio, they didn’t need to be said twice, they banished in seconds leaving behind ink splotches.

<<Good, they need to know who’s in charge around here, I don’t need them turning themselves against me>>

Of course, those lackeys helped him just in time to trap them on the lower levels. Him being one of the top dogs inside the studio (he shares part of it with Alice to keep her at bay, as long as she doesn’t interfere the truce stands) has another skill only he possess. He’s capable of controlling the ink to his desire; those hands and arms that pulled you down? It was him, not the Lost One’s.

Approaching smugly towards the hole on the floor he jumped down, landing graciously on the ground and immediately searched around the room, soon he found what he was looking for: the girl. He couldn’t see her, but could feel her. How you may ask, another gift, but he is not the only one able to use it, all ink creatures have it, the answer is ink.

Think of it as a tether, a connection or bond between the source and its off-springs. What separates them from normal ink is their conscious, their minds.

<<Joey said something similar to me once...what differentiates them from animals is their ability to think..even thought they don’t show it>>

Until Henry that is, the Inkarnate knew his creator Joey Drew was a man of science who dreamed walking on the red carpet, ambitious and headstrong, besides him other...individuals never truly showed any brains, so when he met Henry it changed his view on humans (not completely, but a little it’s already too much if you know how Bendy is).

He knows the girl won’t have many problems traversing through his home, Henry cleared the majority of the pathways and left a mess at some levels. Stein proved to be entertaining for him, not an easy prey like other inhabitants that were trapped by the ink, he hunted each and every last of them, their fates worse than death.

If he was bored and in the mood some were tortured, he experimented with them diverse methods to inflict pain and traumatize them.

Boredom it’s Eternity’s enemy, that’s what he believes at least. Not that he’s complaining, he has no desire to end his life, yet.

It would be a lie if he said the idea never popped on his mind, the demon isn’t suicidal, however his domain tends to be rather grim. Hollow would be an accurate description for the living here, insanity plays a big part too, it feeds the flame of vengeance inside him.

That little detail can be seen as a disadvantage too, hysteria brings such brutal ideas as suicide and ways to do so, it should be morbid for him feel excitement by holding those thoughts. But it isn’t.

He’s grateful, after years condemned of humdrum there’s some thrill for him.

Eerily watching how the woman’s chest went up and down, he took a look at the room and absorbed some of the ink, no he wasn’t trying to save her, no, just delaying fate.

" ﾚ乇ｲ'丂 丂乇乇 んのW ﾚの刀ム ｲん乇丂乇 の刀乇 ﾚﾑ丂ｲ丂. "

Giving another glance to the female beneath him he noticed her injury.

<<That dog will find her, it’ll help them, just like Henry>>

There’s no need to worry, he’ll make it last as longs as he needs to, once he appeases his dullness they’ll be gone.

<<Alice has to know, the others too, especially Lawrence. I have to make it clear, those too disobey me, Samuel rarely does it, but when he does...I can’t believe he’s that foolish>>

Normally the devil let’s them do as they please with intruders, that was in the past, he grew bored and those lunatics never left something for him, they were too simple-minded for him. They didn’t enjoy the hunt or torment them until it breaks beyond repair.

He learned to savour his kills.

Although he can’t always relish their distress, those are dark days plagued by migraines, screams brought him suffering instead of pleasure. When the voices got too loud for him, weakening his self and succumbing into the abyss...

He dwells too much.

Time to change that.

Smiling in glee he opened another portal, shuffling at his own pace towards it, every time he set a foot in one it reminded him before his sentience.

Like a never ending cascade.

Too bad he couldn’t enjoy it anymore.

“I thought we had an agreement, name your business and leave.” Said automatically the witch while working on her stupid beauty products.

He’s not oblivious, the madwoman has been sacrificing a big bunch of their lot to fix her ugliness. Because of his abhor and apathy concerning the flunked angel he didn’t interfere, it kept her busy and in line, besides...who was he to judge? Obviously he’s the law, and overseer, the boss. However, he can’t fault them for their tainted nature.

"W乇 んﾑ√乇 ﾑ √ﾉ丂ﾉｲの尺." Its always like these with the Angel, he knows every inch of her like no one else, despite their hateful relationship it once held passion. The Demon possess so much knowledge about her: what makes her tick, what brings her euphoria, how to bath her in glee and ecstasy, why she’s so selfish, etc.

She’ll never admit it, but she still likes how he shows dominance, like now that he has her trapped, in a matter of seconds he had her pinned to a wall, looking down at her while she looks up to him, she was suppressing down her smile by replacing it with a scowl.

<<You don’t want me to know? Still prideful then>>  

He feels a bit of disgust by being so near, but he can’t deny his want, they always felt this attraction to each other, since they were supposed to be a romantic couple in the show.

“Yes, I heard the racquet, what about it?” She crossed her arms faking anger at his interruption, however, the tether told him otherwise.

-Runny and rushed-

“Don’t be too rough with them.” As if he was burning her the Angel pushed him away, good thing he couldn’t see her if he has the ability then he would be aware of the slight trickling from Alice’s left side of her face were hideousness its more apparent, by-product of her imperfection.

Bendy knows this because she was like that before he lost his sight, yet he didn’t care, what’s on the outside won’t change what she’s on the inside, after all, they are monsters. Susie happens to be one of them, back in the days when she was a beauty her interior carried a decaying putrid soul, many were believed the lies assembled for them, luring those who once possessed such naivety.

The gal showed her discontent towards him by screaming.

“Why?! I thought we were done! There are no creators left and all the employees have been corrupted by the ink, you made that happen! So what’s left?!” Ah yes, screeching, another reason for their ‘break up’, he couldn’t take her moodiness and when she yelled at him? Ugh, he considered several times ending his suffering and tried shutting her up until his patience ran thin and he relied on violence.

Like now.

The hellish creature it’s choking the fallen angel, baring his teeth at her, a guttural sound coming from him. She expected this and already had her hands trying to loosen his grip, spitting venom from her eyes.

“It does not matter. Do as I say, I don’t want you nor any of your pets to kill them! Not yet at least.” He tighten up a little bit more his grasp on her, he feels a clot forming in her throat, their bodies are different from humans, but ink its their whole being. Blood, tissue, muscle, organs, veins, etc. He could get a feel of how her normal ink pressure is centered were his hands are strangling her.

If she was human his sensitive senses would give him the satisfaction of perceiving how her blood runs through her veins, her slowed down pulse and her hitched breath trapped on her longs trying to get in and out seeking more oxygen, until she starts coughing while trembling at the verge of death and he would-

“F-Fi-ne.”

He woke up from his delirium maelstrom, soon he released her and could only hear her desperate gasps for air (not that she needs it), cautious she rubs her neck and then expectantly looks up at him.

“Good.”

The little devil left her alone and carried on with his duty, now he’s missing Lawrence.

He wonders what his little admirer could be doing.   

Sammy’s POV

The maestro was attending his most precious possessions, what kept an ounce of sanity alive in him are his instruments, it’s unfair he’s not well stocked with supplies to restore them back to their glory, four decades ago they still held divine graciousness.

Unlike his soul what he created was pure not carrying any of his sins and embraced all his passion for what he did: music. Innovative melodies no one had heard before that came from the bottom of his heart and mind, his whole life recorded on simple notes he calls reflections.

Ah yes, his darker dreams transformed in golden faded mist were he gives his life a twirl. Dangerous emotions as the likes of anger, frustration, depression and loneliness banish in a second when his fingers travel along those riches.

He was cleaning them when he heard an uproar.

“Oh? What pray my Lord be the problem?” It’s unusual for his master to cause such ruckus, did something happened? Why wasn’t he informed? He’s supposed to know all the whereabouts of these place to keep it’s ruler safe!

Swiftly he set down the banjo and made his way through a satanic circle and went searching for the reason of his Lord’s discontent.

<<Maybe another tender sheep is trapped inside these hellhole>>

Soon he found what he’s been looking for.

You.

He just didn’t expect you to be so...breathtaking.

A limping beauty before him in the open,defenseless. The Prophet never found his master, instead he stumbled into a besom. Is it a gift from his savior? Did the devil accepted his apologies?!

How he envisioned that day! After that black sheep came to Bendy’s kingdom he gave him the cold shoulder, he even tried to murder him when he was only showing how grateful he is for all he has done for him. He didn’t understand..but he would never let past mistakes repeat themselves, he’ll change whatever brought displeasure to the boss.

For the better.

If he has been blessed as he believes then he’ll accept the Inkarnate’s present and treasure it just like his valuable instruments.

But if he’s wrong and the human is not a signal from the Dark One then he must continue with his duty as a guardian.

The old music director knows his ways and stalks you inside the ink, keeping himself hidden from you and in a short time he takes notice of your physical state.

He worries that if you are his then it’s his responsibility to aid your graciousness with how fragile you look Lawrence can’t stop the scenarios that play in his head, he’ll tend to your needs and nurse you back to health while protecting what’s his, teaching them what they’ll require to stay in here adoring their king.

And he won’t lie, fantasizing with a noble charmer like yourself...well, the liquid that keeps him alive runs faster than before, it excites him greatly.

Captivated he follows the Lamb he found without her noticing he’s even there.

Something he takes pride on.

His time will come, eventually he’ll have the pleasure of meeting you.

It keeps disturbing you looking at the big ass stick inside your hand protruding noticeably, but it helps as a constant reminder of being careful so you don’t bury it more, if you did it would cause serious damage.

That’s why you still have the piece of wood puncturing your hand, it wouldn’t have been a problem if the stick wasn’t that big or that far into you, hypothetically that were the case then you would have already taken it out and clean it with some water, soap or alcohol while covering the wound with a piece of your attire.

Your problem is the infection, whether you can prevent it or not is an issue and you don’t know where to find any alcohol to maintain around the wound clean, even if you somehow manage to do so it wouldn’t change anything because you are still running the risk of dying from gangrene.

<<I have to options get the fuck out of here or look for help>>

And no you can’t call 911, the impact destroyed your cellphone, you couldn’t even pick up the broken pieces of the screen because your back hurt too much and crouching made breathing a harder task. So as you can see your options are limited, besides you can’t even draw out the thing because you don’t have enough strength to do so with one hand.

You grunt in pain and irritation by remembering that little detail, you life is on the line and you don’t know exactly how much time you have left until the injury gets infected.

“I need to hurry.”

<<I can’t believe my luck, really, like this whole place has a serious leaking problem and Mr.Drew should get all the pipeline system checked. I haven’t passed a place without a splotch of ink or where the walls aren’t dripping ink! I don’t want to imagine a worse scenario than this for myself, injured, no communication or way to get help, no medical supplies and I’m risking my life by being out in the open because there’s a possibility a bloodthirsty monster is on the lookout for me!>>

Finally you reach a room with what appears to be a desk with a toolbox and a mug, there’s nothing else or that’s what you think until you notice a perplexing message written on the wall beside the desk.

“’The Creator Lied To Us’..what’s that supposed to mean?” You ask to no one after reading the message out-loud.

<<Is these about that article? Who wrote this?>>

Your theory is that one of Joey’s workers came back to the studio and vandalized the wall, that’s the more logical explanation you can think of.

<<After all they were overworked and abused, I would have done the same if I had the guts to do so>>

You didn’t put much thought into it and carried on with your task, another detail that comes to your awareness are some wooden planks blocking what appears to be an entry to a new part of the studio, however, finally a stroke of luck is given to you and you are still able to pass through them with no complications.

Slowly you walk across the corridor squinting your eyes at the little light that offered the room, scared of tripping over she lift her legs in order to not fall with one of the wooden planks trying to block her way, she feels scared and alone.

<<Never thought I would develop a fear of the dark at my adulthood>>

She reached a door, hesitant she drew her hand closer to the doorknob and with her shaken good hand she opens it a weak, fearful gasp leaves her.

“Wh-What’s...this?” Horrified she takes a step forward. Maybe her mind is playing games with her or her eyes are deceiving her perception of reality “I-it...it can’t......it can’t be!” A silent scream resides her inner walls.  

<<Am I really seeing this?>>

What appears to be a satanic circle drawn on the floor with black ink, candles adorning each side of the pentagon and two coffins near it.

You step into the it, just at the edge to look at it closer, but as your foot lands inside it you start feeling dizzy and fall into a deep slumber.

Old jumbled memories have been revealed once again.

A machine.

One wheelchair.

Dark silhouette.

...what does it all mean?

Madness. All went to hell thanks to Mr. Drew’s mindset, egocentric and greedy as many others. He used all the resources that were at his disposition: money, cleverness, social skills, manipulation, machinery and people. He took it all for his own desires, overriding any morals he had, if he even had them to begin with.

He doomed them all, himself counted. Crossing paths with death served him right, he died bearing resentment for never being able to accomplish his dream. Immortality. His decaying for made it evident, he needed a wheelchair because of how weak his body had become.

Too weak to fight back.

His own creations slaughter him. Buried deep in ink.

Chapter Text

After the shutdown of Joey Drew Studios for diabolic practices, abuse and unpaid wages complaints; several members of the crew went missing and local security department its on the lookout for them. 

Samuel Lawrence

An award-winning musician, composer and director of the Music Department at Joey Drew Studios, known for writing the music for Bendy's show in the studio's heyday. Cascading front brown hair, 5'11 feet tall medium skin male, blue eyes, wearing khaki pants with suspenders, white button up shirt, black coat, black leather shoes of a sturdy figure or slightly muscular. Last seen at the Music Department inside his workplace, may suffer ink poisoning. 

If you see a man with these description, please report it to the authorities immediately. 

Susie Campbell

The former voice actress of Alice Angel and worked at Joey Drew Studios for a few months also voicing other characters in the cartoons, before being replaced by Allison Pendle. Susie worked at Joey Drew Studios for at least two months, helping to develop the character of Alice. Wavy blonde luxuriant hair, hazel eyes, rosy skin, 5'7 feet tall female wearing a yellow fit and flare dress with black heels, small and slightly skinny frame. Last seen at Mr. Drew's office inside with him inside, may suffer from ink poisoning. 

If yoy see a woman with these description, please report with the authorities immediately. 

Joey Drew

Founder of Joey Drew Studios, well known for introducing the popular Bendy cartoons from the times past as both a director and writer. Joey also wrote a memoir and animation guide entitled 'The Illusion of Living', which was critically acclaimed among the general public. One suspect in the explosion inside the ink machine room, since he possess information concerning its operational system and did not abandon the building.  Laid back dark hair, pinkish white skin male, cold blue eyes and plain stubble wearing black suit pants, white button up shirt, black bow, pitch coat and black leather shoes. A dull and obscure get-up that transpires seriousness and firmness.  Joey Drew has been sued for his treatment towards others, a criminal that avoided law for far too long and roamed free neglecting others. 

If you see a man who fits these description, please no matter the circumstances don't believe what he speaks and contact with local authorities as soon as possible. maintain discretion and stay safe. 

"Good morning, sir." 

His gaze wasn't on her, as usual the brunette looking through the window while laying down ignoring her presence and wishing she didn't come in. 

It's nothing personal, really.

"I broughr you today's breakfast, mister."

Calmly she left the tray of food on his lap and sat near his bed using a chair that was already in the room. 

"How was your night? Did you sleep well or did the nigh- She was interrupted by a hoarse manly voice, it sounded forced and there's no sickness causing it, they both know his voice is an effect of pain. Emotional one. 

"When?" He asked feeling weak, but that sole word had a strong intent, firm and demanding, she sights. 

"We have ran over it already, Mr. Stein, I'm sorry but you can't leave until you get be- 

"I'm fine. I feel alright and the only cause of this "sickness" you refer to it's being here on this bed doing nothing more than eat, shit, bath and breath iodform 24/7." There was a bit of snark in what he said, but she's used to his rudeness, it doesn't bothers her. 

"I know, sir, and I would like to grant you that, but there's no one else able to take care of you and you came here seeking for medical assistance, if you had come sooner just like Dr. Si- His hands formed into fists and a bit of a snarl while his gaze hardens on her, he hit the bed making it creak along with the tray of food that wobbled. 

"I was fine bfore that! I didn't need to come here like he said, when I called 911, that's when! I know myself better than anyone else! And I know for that fact I'm fine! I want to go home right now and you or those bozos ain't gonna-

"Henry would you shut up for once?! Yeah, it's not nice being interrupted, right? I get it, believe me I do, but you have to stop being so bull-headed and cooperate with us. Help me help you! You are not as fine as you chant, because we both know that's bullshit. Look, if you let us treat then you'll be stable enough so you won't need to be under observation any longer. I need your cooperation, we are here to help, I'm here to help you. We can be cool with each other if you do that for me, that's all I'm asking, please understand." She dislikes yelling and it bothers her even more because this is Henry she just yelled at. 

He let go of his hands dissolving his fists, cooling down slowly his once raged dark eyes now had a downcast undertone with some regret above it, however a small smile formed on his lips.

"What happened to your professionalism? I thought you didn't like raising your voice...are you allowed to curse or insult a patient?" He teased, playfulness fills his tone and she takes a moment to control herself once more, while his remarks make her feel more guilty, she knows that's not his intention and desires to lighten the mood. She can't stay mad at him, besides it's not like he won't pull that stunt on her again and she can't really fault him for that because she empathize with Henry's situation and she has seen it several times with different patients. Somehow she relates. 

She can't help but roll her eyes. "Oh, shut it. Sorry for yelling, but you know I'm right, so I won't leave your ass until you eat all of that."

"Yuck, not this shit again, no offense it doesn't taste that bad, but I'm tired of eating it."

"What's that I here? Choo-choo wants to visit HT. Stein's Lane? Ah yes, choo-choo loves there and it has a heavy load of flavors in it! Open up, bud!"

"No, I can do it, you don't have to-

She didn't listen and shoved the spoon in his mouth, she laughed at his suffering making weird noises with food inside his mouth. 

That was seven months ago. Now they live together, Henry is like the father she never had and she loves her pal. 

Unfortunately, he was getting worst as the days passed and it was little what doctors could do for him, now it depends on his immune system.

She feels stressed and it makes her anxious every time she listens any complain coming from him, he’s in pain and she can’t do nothing to stop it, that makes her useless and powerless. She hates it so much that it burns.

<<Why can’t I help him?! Whywhywhywhywhy?! Tell me why!>>

Digging her nails on both of her arms a pressure pushes inside her chest, it hurts, however she’s not focusing on it. Just like she doesn’t notice how the air she breathes feels hotter by each passing second, she oblivious to it all except the inflicted pain. The sensation pleases her and she needs more. 

“He has been fighting for years it’s not fair after all that he dies! It shouldn’t it shouldn’t it shouldn’t it shouldn’t it shouldn’t it shouldn’t it shouldn’t-!

She kept going, digging deeper until blood starts coming out slowly and she’s sweating, her hands are sweaty and her stomach hurts. She wants to puke so she stops hurting herself leaving crimson moons behind in order to clutch her abdomen desperately, her incoherent mumbling ceases and she groans in pain.

She wants to scream and let it all go through the toilet, shout until her longs come out, throw up until satisfied. Yes, that’s it. That’ will sooth it all.

<<It’s pointless...is it pointless? Really what I did was for nothing?>>

Why does she feels like she deserves all of it?

Because she does. She’s supposed to help and she can’t even do that. Why the fuck did she study all of those years if it wasn’t gonna help?! What is she supposed to do?! She can’t even help the most important person in her life!

“..why?” Falling on the floor she slowly crawls onto it until she’s in a fetal position, tears leaking through her eyes reaching the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Her body feels weak trembling and it feels hot, she feels so hot and it distress her further having sweat traveling her skin because it didn’t refresh her or make her feel even a little bit of coolness.

It’s your fault. You did this to yourself. If only you fought when you were given the opportunity.

You wake up.

“Henry!”

Still in a daze and disoriented, you need your friend here with you. He needs you and you need him.

A shiver runs down your spine.

Cold, you are cold. Why is it so cold? You try to rub your hands on your arms but you can’t move them.

<<Not this again, please no!>>

You are scared. Of course if you were awake you might had thought it was an infection because of the fiber and sweat, but a part of you knows that is not true. You don’t want to accept what’s happening to you, because you don’t wish it occurs.

Looking around nothing seems familiar to you, this is not home, Henry’s not here, it seems like no one is here. Why are you here? Why are you alone in this place? Where the fuck are you?!

The numbness is spreading, you are hyperventilating.

No hands.

No arms.

Your head hurt.

You feel like crying.

God, what’s happening to you?

Someone help.

Please.

“Henry...? ....anyone?”

You cry harder, everything hurts and at the same time you can’t feel a thing. Perhaps you’ll die like this. A pitiful death.

‘Slow breaths, champ. I won’t leave ya, but you gotta help me here.’

Doing what you’ve been told you don’t even question it since it feels familiar, like you can trust it.

*Inhale*

Thinking of Henry and how he used to draw for you, letting you read a few comics he made when he felt like it and encouraging you to draw, even thought it was just a hobby, your true passion it’s aiding others.

*Exhale*

The day he finally left won’t ever be forgotten, at least not in your memories. He had the biggest smile, beaming up at you and said he wanted to invite you a drink (of course you told him it was a bad idea, but he said ‘fuck it’ and you went along with it, even thought you didn’t let him order any heavy booze nor drink more than one. You were sober the whole time, maybe a little tipsy, but nothing more.), you declined but somehow he convinced you.

*Inhale*

It wasn’t common for any member of your profession to keep in contact with a patient, yeah there were some exceptions, but you never thought you would be one. Normally you are very professional and use a mask when you are at work, because your personality it’s not...for a hospital. You got used to that, no biggie, besides you enjoyed helping others, it brought a fuzzy feeling every time. Pride and satisfaction.

*Exhale*

When Henry came you couldn’t keep it on for long, he...made a quick connection with you. Henry understood you, he could relate to you easily and it scared you at first.

'Say, gal...why so serious?’

‘Huh?’

‘Ye, you swing me the wrong way, there’s an itch that tells me you are off. You ain’t like that outside this place, right?’

‘I don’t know what you talking about, sir?’

‘You sure? Cuz if that’s the case, lass, I want none of it.’

*Inhale*

Yeah, those were good days.

All the warm left with him.

‘Thanks.’

‘Why? Hey, are you hungry? I have your dinner ready just in case.’

‘For everything, you know you don’t have to do any of this and before you say something else I know you are doing it because you want to, but really...thanks, kiddo.’

‘...It’s the least I could do for you, old man. I’m in debt with’cha, remember?’

‘No...I owe you. I’m glad I got to break your hard-shelled exterior.’

‘You owe me nothing, now you wanna eat or-

‘Henry? Bud?’

...

He’s gone.

You don’t feel your body anymore, you can’t move and it’s freezing.

The last thing you see in your blurry vision is the glimpse of a black hue, it looks like whatever it is has a figure, but you can’t identify it.

“...sto-p......it...”

You fall unconscious after uttering those words, a nurturing catchy hum approaches you and the black blurred figure it’s the source of it.

“-hush, milky Lamb or we will both be damned, there’s no rush cuz here I am, so rest your head, it’s time for bed...”

Slowly a sipping warmth envelopes you and it rocks you into peacefulness.