The studio stood before her, the door to answers tempting the young Cassidy Stein to turn the doorknob and enter. There was a part of her that wanted to turn back, but she had waited five years for answers without getting any.
This was her chance to find out what happened to her father, Henry Stein, five years prior. Cassidy knew her father received a letter from his old work partner, and her father went to see what he wanted.
The letter her uncle sent still was burned into Cassidy's mind. It seemed innocent enough on the surface, but it couldn't just be a coincidence right. It seems just too suspicious that Joey Drew would invite her father to the abandoned studio only for him to be declared missing, then dead.
Dear Henry,
It seems like a lifetime since we've worked on cartoons together, thirty years really slips by doesn't it.
If you're back in town. Come visit the old workshop. There's something I need to show you.
Your Best Pal, Joey Drew
Cassidy knew in her gut that the letter held the key to solving this mystery that plagued the fifteen-year-old's mind for so long. She needed answers, after all, she had nothing else to lose now.
After her younger sister, Elizabeth, died of cancer two years back and their mom, Linda, died in a car accident the teen was left with her only other relative, the man Cassidy blamed for her father's absence, Joey Drew.
After all, Cassidy knew exactly why her father left the studio those years ago; it was due to how Joey treated him. The man stole the credit for Bendy's creation right out of her father's palm, one of the many reasons the animator's daughter hated the man.
Drawing had always been her passion, ever since her father taught her how to draw by walking her through each step Henry would take to draw the dancing demon, Bendy. It was the reason she dreams of becoming an artist or animator.
'Uncle Joey, if you did anything to my dad you will…' she wasn't the greatest at threats, the best she could do was imagine hitting the liar over the head with a book.
She turned her attention to the door that was in front of her, a part of her made her hesitate before she could turn the doorknob. It told her that no one could still be alive down there, five years without food or water would kill anyone. Cassidy pushed those thoughts away, she held onto her hope that her father might still be alive. This is what she wanted, and the teenager was sick of waiting for the answer to knock on her door one day.
With her goal in mind, Cassidy turned the doorknob and opened the door slowly. The once-great Joey Drew Studios was now in disrepair with weathered wooden walls and ink dripping from the ceiling onto the already flooded floor. The scent of ink permeated in her direction
She took a few more steps before the door shut behind her suddenly. In a panic Cassy turned around and tried to open it to no avail, the door was locked.
"Locked, well this is just great," Cassidy didn't even try to hide her sarcasm. There is no turning back from her goal now for sure, "Ahead it is then!"
"Alright Uncle Joey, what did you want my father to see?" Cassidy asked out loud.
She spent a few moments staring at the posters and smiled, the two nearest to her were ones her father worked on. They would watch the cartoons together as a family, Henry would put them on whenever Liz wasn't in the hospital to bring a smile to her face or would tell Cassidy about the process of creating an animation. The nostalgia hit her hard as tears left her eyes and mixed with the ink at her feet. Her father taught her how to draw, the reason she dreamed of becoming an animator.
She took a few more steps before encountering a gaping hole in the ground with ink dripping down it. There seemed to be no way around it other than to jump over, not something that thrilled the young artist. She took off her backpack and pulled out a pencil and dropped it into the hole and counted how long it took to reach the ground, '1, 2, 3,' splat, three seconds deep.
"I am glad I didn't slip there, that would have resulted badly," the teen told herself. Her only options were to stay in the small space she was in or jump over the hole. Cassidy chose to risk it; she wouldn't achieve anything if she stayed in there after all.
She backed up a bit to give herself a running start, she ran as fast as she could with the ink slowing her down and slipped right before reaching the hole. She attempted to catch herself, but her grip was too weak and so she fell down the gaping hole.
Cassidy closed her eyes and screamed, 'I'm going to fall, I'm going to die!'
She braced for impact, knowing her chances of survival were likely slim. Heck, the chances of coming out unscathed were even slimmer. This was why Cassidy was shocked to still be alive when she hit an ink-stained wooden floor. Her body hurt, yes, but nothing seemed to be broken and she was alive. Her breathing was still rapid as she struggled to catch her breath, and her heart still raced from the fall. Taking deep breaths, she got her breathing to return to normal even though her heart still raced and stood up with the help of a nearby wall. Cassidy took a moment to observe her surroundings and figure out where she was.
The wooden wall she used to support her was stained with ink, and there were boards ceiling up a hole in the wall to her left. A valve pipe was attached to the opposite wall to her, she couldn't tell if they were painted black or were filled with ink. She wouldn't be surprised if those pipes were filled with ink, there was enough here to supply the whole world with an artist's tool of the trade.
Ink dripped from the hole she fell from; one drop fell on her glasses leaving a stain on its edge. Cassidy sighed deeply as she wiped the cold liquid off the lenses of her glasses before placing the frame back onto her nose.
A strand of black hair obscured a part of her vision and she swept it back behind her ears, perhaps she should have pulled her hair back before she went inside. The long black hair was tangled and messy from the fall, dripping ink from its split ends.
"This place is falling apart from its seams, perhaps this was a mistake…" Cassidy told herself as she held her arms tightly. She was lost, no it was worse than that, she was scared, "I just wanted to find out what happened to dad."
She was only ten when Henry disappeared, ever since her life has been a living nightmare. Her sister who had been fighting leukemia died a few years back, Liz was only six and had so much to look forward to only to have Death claim her. Elizabeth was her only friend as well as her little sister, Cassidy felt that she failed as a big sister when Liz left the world.
Things got worse from there, but Cassidy refused to dwell on it further. She needed to find a way out of this place, and she didn't see any other way but through the stairway behind her. The only supplies she had on her was those in her backpack and satchel. Her backpack only had a few books, notebooks, and sketchbooks along with some art supplies while her satchel contained a pocketknife, a first aid kit, a flashlight with extra batteries, and a bottle of water. She wasn't planning on staying there for more than a couple of hours, now she feared a couple of hours may now be a couple of days to weeks. Despite this, she pressed forward, she had to know what happened.
She turned to her right and caught sight of a dusty wooden shelf with an old cassette player on one of its shelves. Curious, Cassidy made her way towards the audio log and pressed play.
It's dark and it's cold and it's stuck in behind every single wall now. In some places, I swear this godforsaken ink is clear up to my knees! Who ever thought that these crummy pipes could hold up under this kind of strain either knows something about pressure I don't, or he's some kind of idiot.
But the real worst part about all this.. are them noises the system makes. Like a dying dog on its last legs. Make no mistake, this place... this... machine... heck, this whole darn thing... it just isn't natural.
You can bet, I won't be doing any more repair jobs for Mister Joey Drew.
An Ink Machine? Her father never mentioned that! Who would even need that much ink anyways and for what purpose? That must be what the pipes she saw earlier contained, they transported ink. That mechanic was right about the pressure since ink-stained every nook and cranny of the room she was in.
There was debris blocking the only other pathway that Cassidy wouldn't be able to move, so the stairway seemed to be her only option. She headed down two flights of stairs before finding herself in a mostly empty room with two doors.
"How deep does this place go," Cassidy asked in annoyance.
She opened one of the doors and left the door open. There was one other door to try to open, her hand attempted to turn the knob.
"An ax might be able to get this open," Cassidy considered the option, "or perhaps I can use a tool from my pocketknife to pick the lock."
The last option was the best shot in her mind, she pulled the tool from the front pocket of her satchel and chose to use the screwdriver to unscrew the knob. Once the deed was done she had four screws in her hand and a doorknob placed on the floor.
The door now opened easily, revealing a shelf full of bacon soup and papers. The bacon soup displayed the studio's mascot, she grabbed one to read its contents. The expiration date made her put the can back on the shelf, December 14th, 1987.
'Maybe I should have left this locked…ewe who would even eat this stuff anyways,' Cassidy thought as she closed the door back up, leaving the screws and doorknob behind to enter the other room.
She shook off as much ink from her body as she could before she entered the next room. There was a table near the entrance with a mug next to an open toolbox, the toolbox was empty to her disappointment. She looked over to her left and read a cryptic message that someone left on the wall.
THE CREATOR LIED TO US
A chill went down the artist's spine, something told her that there was something sinister hidden in that message. There was a hallway nearby with bits of chopped wood scattered across the floor, it seemed to be the only way forward, so she went through and found herself in front of another door. 'This one isn't locked, thank goodness!'
When she opened the door, she was greeted by room with creepy décor, but the ritual circle drawn in the center of the room was what sent another violent chill down Cassidy's spine. Candles surrounded the ritual circle, and with the coffins in the background, there was only one explanation that Cassy could think of, human sacrifice.
Cassidy took a step into the room and a wave of pain hit her like a blast of wind. Her head pounded faster as she struggled to walk towards the door she saw.
Images flashed in her mind with each step she took, the first being what she presumed was the ink machine, the second was her father reaching out for something in a dark abyss, and the last one was some twisted version of Bendy. The pain grew unbearable when she took her last step, a step in the center of the circle.
She fell to the ground with a light thud, her eyes catching a door opening slowly before slipping into unconsciousness.
"Sheep, sheep, sheep, it's time for sleep."