She would never forget the moment when she awoke for the first time since the tragedy.
The very first thing she sensed was the tart smell of ink. She felt a cool heaviness enveloping her body, covering her like a sheet. She heard a faint dripping sound, its piercing echo rhythmically cutting through the silence.
She opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of a wooden, cobweb-covered ceiling. She attempted to sit up, but this proved to be more difficult than she'd anticipated. Her body ached all over, as if she'd just come out of a boxing match. What's more, she looked down at her white gloved hands and saw that they were stained with pure black ink. Upon further inspection, she realized that splotches of ink coated her entire form- her bell-sleeved white dress, her arms and legs, and even her black shoes.
As she sat up, the ink began to drip off of her into puddles. She pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead, which felt slightly warm but not dangerously so. Her eyes scanned her surroundings. She was surrounded by six wooden walls which formed a cramped room. She sat in the middle of four candles, which seemed to be the only source of light. Against the wall behind her leaned two cobweb-covered coffins, and to her right stood a small desk atop which sat some pieces of paper and a bottle of ink. Ahead of her there was an opening leading to some kind of hallway, but it was blocked by a jumble of wooden boards that appeared to be stuck in the doorway. To her left, there was a closed door. The entire place reeked of ink and old parchment paper.
From the looks of it, no one had set foot in here in a long time.
The girl struggled to remember how she got here, but found she couldn't. She tried to think back to the last thing she remembered. She attempted to recall something; anything from her past. She tried desperately to come up with a memory from her childhood, perhaps of her parents or even her own name. Nothing. She didn't have a clue who she was.
Everything she knew was gone. Everything she remembered had vanished, faded away into the distant past.
Shakily, she got to her feet. Taking a closer look at the spot where she stood, she realized something: she was standing on what appeared to be a pentagram drawn in ink. It was somewhat smeared now, but still distinguishable.
What in the world is going on?
She felt an eerie chill pass through her as she stared down at the pentagram. After a few seconds, she forced herself to look away. She carefully stepped over one of the candles and moved off of the ominous marking. Her shoes made a distinct clicking sound every time they touched the floor, and the floor creaked wherever she stepped.
The girl approached the door and tried the handle experimentally. Not surprisingly, it didn't budge. After scanning the room again and determining that the boarded up hallway and the door were indeed the only exits, she decided to approach the desk. As she drew closer, she noted that the pieces of paper she'd observed on the desk were drawings.
Curious, she picked up one and examined it. It was a hand-drawn sketch of a grinning character with pie-cut eyes a head that curved into two points at the top, like horns. He was dressed in black except for his white gloves and bow tie at his neck. At the top of the page was a single word: "Bendy."
Bendy…
Why did that name sound so familiar?
The girl stared at the character on the page, the word echoing in her mind. The little face seemed to stare back at her, its toothy smile and lifeless, black eyes looking eerie in the dim light. She found her mind wandering. She felt as if she were stumbling through the darkness in search of something. Something that was right there, but just out of her grasp.
Slowly, she began to recall what must have been a memory.
It was chilly in the animation studio. The heater was broken, as it often was, and the wintery air from outside was seeping in through the cracks in the wooden walls. But she didn't mind- she loved being there all the same.
She sat at a desk in a large room with posters lining the walls and no creepy coffins or pentagrams. She couldn't make out what was on the posters, but she somehow knew that they were related to the cartoons that were made in the studio.
The girl looked up as the door opened and a man walked into the room. His features were not defined at all, as if he himself were just a preliminary sketch that hadn't been finalized.
She could, however, make out a smile on his face as he approached her. "There you are, my little princess. I've been looking for you."
Then the girl spoke in a high-pitched, childish voice. "Papa, I can't wait for the new movie! Please show me some of your sketches!"
The man chuckled. It was a gruff sort of sound. "Well, only if you promise not to tell anyone. It's barely an idea, and I don't want it getting out. I haven't even told my crew about it yet. In fact, I've only just finished drawing the main character."
He handed the child a piece of paper, which she took eagerly and held in her delicate fingers. Her wide eyes stared down at it like it was a piece of chocolate cake.
It was a sketch of a cartoon character with devil horns, pie-cut eyes, a grin, and a little bow tie.
"Ooh!" the girl exclaimed. "He's so cute! I love him so much!" Her eyes flew to the word at the top. "'Bendy?' What does that mean?"
"That's his name," the man explained. "Bendy, the little devil darlin.'"
"Bendy," she echoed affectionately, not taking her eyes off the page. "That's perfect. I'll bet this will be your best movie yet."
The man knelt down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "I hope so," he said, "because I'm making it for you, my darling little princess."
The girl blinked. She took a moment to process the memory that had been triggered so suddenly. This place was her father's animation studio. She had a father- one who created cartoons, and who'd designed one for her.
He'd made Bendy for his daughter.
Her hands shook as they clutched the paper in her hands. This sketch and the memory that came with it were all that she had of her life, of herself, of who she was. Just the grinning face of a cartoon devil and a name that wasn't even her own.
She felt a tear pricking at the corner of her eye, which she quickly wiped away with the finger of her glove. In doing so, though, she accidentally got a little bit of ink on her face. Trying to wipe it off would just result in making it worse, so she ignored it. Instead, she resolved to look for a way out. She wouldn't allow herself to be trapped down here forever. After all, staying in this tiny little room certainly wouldn't get her any more answers.
A/N: Thanks for reading! This is my first story on this account, but I've posted other fanfictions in the past and have a long history of writing. I haven't published anything in a while, but I loved playing Bendy and the Ink Machine so much that I wanted to put a little something together. By my standards, this chapter is a bit on the shorter side, which I was okay with because it's the first one and it made sense to end it where it did. Future chapters will be longer.
I'm thinking that the fanfic will be at least 5 chapters long. I'll update one more time in about a week or so, then I'll wait for chapter 3 of BATIM to come out before continuing the story. I want it to use aspects of the original game and capture the eerie, suspenseful feel of it, but I also want it to diverge enough to be unique and interesting. It won't be any fun if it's the exact same story!
Anyway, stay tuned for more!
- Beth
