Bendy woke up in a dark room, lit only by a single candle. The workshop was deathly quiet, apart from a slight rustling in the room next door and the steady drip of ink onto the wooden floors. Dull, aching pain still throbbed in the side of Bendy's head. He put a hand to it and winced. Some memories flashed briefly before his eyes; Joey, watching him as he came to life; him leaving the room, closing the door slowly behind him; Boris's unconscious form, lying on the ground…
"Boris," Bendy muttered, "Where are you?" The little devil stood up and picked up the candle, holding it high above his horns to take a look around the room. Apart from a single chair next to the door and a couple of pipes in the ceiling, it was empty. He trotted over to the door, and pulled the handle. The door didn't move; it was locked. Bendy sighed with frustration.
"Well, this stinks," He said. He placed the candle on the floor besides him and sat down on the chair, resting his head on his hands. Bendy sat still for a while, tapping his foot absent-mindedly to an old tune he could just remember. The noise echoed slightly in the workshop, lifting the silence a little bit. But then, another sound joined Bendy's foot tapping; a soft noise on the wooden floor. He sprung to his feet. Was that…? Yes! Footsteps!
"Hello," he called, "Who's there?" There was no response, apart from the footsteps pausing for a moment, and then continuing. Bendy waited a moment, then knocked on the door. "Boris? Is that you?" he asked. Again, there was no response. He threw up his hands in annoyance and began to pace the room. The footsteps continued, soon joined by other noises that Bendy couldn't name.
Who is that? He wondered, occasionally looking towards the door. The sound of something metal reached him; a soft chink as it was laid upon a surface. Bendy stopped. He hadn't seen many metal objects in the studio so far, apart from the projectors and a couple of pens. So what was it? Bendy absent-mindedly kicked at an ink puddle on the ground, splattering his shiny black shoes with glistening splatters, concentrating. He tried to hear more noises, but the footsteps had resumed, penetrating the silence. Bendy sighed and sat down, leaning back against the wall. His usual wide, toothy grin was turned in a frown and his eyes were drooping with boredom. He decided to focus on the candle, watching the orange flame flicker and dance. A small circle of light spread from it; the dull wooden walls appeared golden in its light.
Suddenly, light flooded underneath the door. It brightened the room immediately, making the candle weak in comparison. Bendy leapt up. He bounced over to the door and knocked again. This time, there was a response.
"Just stay in there, Bendy," a voice whispered through the crack in the side of the door. The devil pressed his face up against the door, trying to see the speaker.
"Who is that?" he asked, staring intently. He could only see the wooden wall on the other side of the door. A flicker of movement passed the door; there was someone out in the hall. Bendy could just make out a familiar face. "Joey!" he cried, feeling relieved. "Can you please unlock the door?" Joey ignored him, walking away. It was then that Bendy saw a glint in his hand; the light glancing off of a slim, silver blade.
Bendy backed away from the door, shocked at seeing a knife in his creator's hand. A feeling of uneasiness was starting to build up inside him. He heard stirring in the next room, mixed with the clinking of chains. There were hurried footsteps, and a muffled groan. A familiar groan. Bendy ran to the door, his grin returning.
"Boris!" he called happily. There was silence for a moment.
"Bendy! Are you okay?" Boris's voice returned. Bendy sighed in relief – Boris was close by.
"I'm fine," Bendy replied. He jiggled the doorknob, then called out again, "Can you open this door for me? It's locked."
"I can't – I'm tied down–" Boris was abruptly cut off. There was a soft whisper, and silence. Bendy frowned and knocked on the door.
"Hello? Boris? Joey? What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," Joey called back casually. But Bendy could tell by the edge to his voice that he was lying. He heard Boris and Joey's voices, muffled by the wall.
Boris's voice began to rise slightly, edged with fear, but Joey hushed him until he went quiet again. Bendy began to knock on the door again, his suspicion turning to worry. The silence was punctured by the sound of metal. With a jolt, the memory of the knife returned to Bendy. Gasping in horror, he reached out to the doorknob, twisting it and pulling with all his might. Still, the door remained tightly closed. It was then that Bendy realised that the door had been locked from the outside. He curled his gloved hands into fists and began to hammer on the door.
"Boris, get over here! Something's going on," Bendy yelled, panic creeping into his voice. The sound of chains thrashing against a surface echoed down the empty hall, into the small room.
"I can't!" Boris's voice yelled back after the clanking had stopped, "I already told you, I'm all chained down – Joey?" the wolf's voice went quiet.
Bendy stopped his hammering to listen.
"Be calm, Boris, everything's going to turn out fine," Joey's voice said, calm and soothing. His voice quietened, turning cruel with a hint of excitement. "For me, anyway."
Everything began to fit together in Bendy's mind. Him being locked in this room; Boris chained down somewhere, unable to escape, and most of all, the knife in Joey's hand. He felt a rush of terror for Boris, which was quickly replaced by rage.
"Joey! What the heck are you up to?!" Bendy shook his head and knocked urgently on the door. "Open this door right now!" he screamed, eyes widening with panic. The doorframe creaked as he knocked, and the ink began to drip faster. Slow, deliberate footsteps came from the next room.
"Back off!" snarled Boris's voice. Then there was the soft shing of metal again. Boris's voice came again, louder and panicky, "Joey, put it down! Put that knife down!" Bendy stopped his bashing and ran to the other side of the room. Quickly straightening his bowtie, he dashed forward and hurled his shoulder against the door. It shook with a bang like thunder. The candle's flame flickered about as the floor shook it stood on. Meanwhile, Boris's cries got louder and more pleading, his voice getting more hysterical.
"Stop it, you naughty little devil, you'll break the door down," Joey's voice called distractedly. Then Bendy heard slow and deliberate footsteps, walking forwards. Boris's voice rose to an unusually high pitch for his normally low voice. That's exactly what I want to do, Bendy thought, ignoring him and backing away again. He sized up the room, preparing himself again for another impact.
"Hang on, Boris, I'm coming!" Bendy bellowed. He rammed himself into the door again. The room in which Bendy was trapped in began to feel smaller, until he could no longer bear it. The footsteps stopped. Bendy's breath caught painfully in his throat.
Then Boris began to scream. His agonized shrieks reverberated in the small room, accompanied by the ghastly noise of a blade ripping into flesh. Bendy flung himself at the door, ramming his horns against it and trying to pry the door open, but his attempts were in vain. Looking around frantically for something to help, he grabbed the chair and hurled it at the door. One of the chair's legs broke off with a crack. Bendy seized it off the floor and flung it in the door's direction, the whole time desperately screeching Boris's name.
"Boris! BORIS!" he screamed. There was a choking noise, accompanied by the sound of something dripping onto the floor. And it wasn't ink.
"B-Bendy," Boris called, in a voice choked with agony. "Help! Please-" he was cut off, gasping, as once again, the knife plunged into his flesh. Screaming filled Bendy's head, until there was nothing left. An image flashed briefly into his mind; the knife, glinting in Joey's hand. That knife was the same one inflicting unimaginable pain upon Boris. At this moment, a hatred so powerful coursed through Bendy; hatred for the man who had brought them to life. He pictured Joey's face, with a small, friendly smile, then reimagined it – splattered with blood, eyes wild, arm raising to inflict more terrible wounds –
"Boris!" Bendy called. He could feel tears starting to well in his eyes, but he relentlessly attacked the door. The snap of bone broke through the thunderous banging on the wall. The screams got louder, punctuated by slicing noises, and more snapping. Bendy began to cry, dropping the chair leg and kicking with all his might. "I'm coming!" he sobbed, "I'll save you, Boris!"
There was a hacking noise, and an ear-splitting screech made Bendy stop. The splattering of inky blood spraying the wall pattered like rain on the wall. There was a soft squelching, and the sound of more tearing flesh that made Bendy gag.
"Bendy!" Boris gasped. His voice was tight and hoarse.
"It's okay," Bendy yelled. He brushed away the tears on his cheeks, summoning up all his remaining strength and hurled himself against the door one last time. The bang echoed throughout the halls, making a loose board on the ceiling fall to the ground with a clatter. The flame on the candle died with a soft hiss, and the room dimmed.
The sound of the knife plunging into flesh came again, but there was no scream. Only a soft, weak moan that gurgled in Boris's throat. Bendy slid down against the door, burying his face in his hands.
"Hang in there," he called, slightly muffled, looking up at the doorknob. Something warm began to flow from underneath the door, pooling around Bendy's feet. He looked down and with a jolt of horror he realised that the dark liquid was his best friend's blood.
"Stay away from Joey, Bendy," Boris pleaded in a strangled voice. "Stay the hell away from him, he'll only hurt you. He'll ki-" there was a wheezy gasp as the sound of a knife puncturing flesh cut the wolf short. Then there was silence.
"Can you hear me, Boris?" Bendy said weakly. He stood up on trembling legs, feeling sickened as the blood dripped off his hands onto the floor. There was no sound, apart from the sound of ink and blood dripping onto the ground. Bendy pressed his palms against the door. "Come on," he pleaded, grief choking him as he tried to speak. "If – if this is a joke, it's not funny!" Still, there was no reply. Bendy waited, pressing his head against the door. "Boris?" he whispered. But deep down, the devil knew that Boris was gone.
"Well, Boris, you and I certainly did have fun tonight."
That was Joey's voice, surprisingly calm and quiet. Bendy's heart stood still.
Laughter began to come from the room. Not Boris's familiar, hearty chuckles. This laughter was cold. Joey's laughter.
At that moment, something inside Bendy snapped. He began to tremble, his normally cheerful expression changing to one of pure rage. The laughter rang inside his head. Bendy clenched his fists. You tortured him, and you find it funny? he thought. You are a madman.
"JOEY!" He shrieked. He threw himself at the door again, rage coursing through his body. "YOU TORTURED BORIS. YOU TORTURED MY BEST FRIEND!" Bendy tore off his glossy white gloves, flexing the clawed fingers underneath. He slashed at the door, not caring about the stabbing pains in his hands as splinters of wood dug into them. Bendy felt savage satisfaction as he saw the deep gouges they left behind. "AND THAT'S NOT ALL. YOU MURDERED HIM. I'LL MURDER YOU!" he bellowed.
Joey's laughter had died down. Soft footsteps told Bendy that Joey was right outside the door. Heart thumping with adrenaline and rage, Bendy saw something dark and round appear in the crack between the door and the wall. It was Joey's eye, a manic glint making it visible in the shadows. Bendy glared into it, panting.
"I hate you," he hissed, trembling all over. "I hate you with all my heart."
The eye blinked indifferently, not breaking contact with Bendy's resentful gaze.
"Goodnight, Bendy," Joey whispered, "Sweet dreams." Then the eye disappeared. There were footsteps and whistling, soon joined by the soft squelching of a mop sliding across the ground. The light turned off, plunging the workshop into total darkness. Then there was the creak of a door closing. Then silence.
Bendy sank to his knees into the pool of still-warm blood. Boris's screams still resonated inside his head. He picked up his gloves, sliding them slowly over the inky claws and picking out a splinter of wood. Without the candle, the room was as black as the ink Bendy was made of. The darkness of the workshop seemed to cloud his mind, darkening it until the screams were as clear as if the knife was still plunging into the wolf's chest. He clapped his hands over his horns, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.
Why would he do this? Bendy thought. He imagined the laughter, and powerful hatred surged through him, making him shake. No matter WHAT his intentions were, I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him. With that, he lay down on the floor and eventually fell asleep to the soft sound of blood dripping on to the wood.
Thanks to Ariel-Mystic-Siren for reviewing.