12- Pentecost

"And all who believed were together and had all things in common." – Acts 2:44

So. Much. For. Sacrifice.

His own confession was summoned from the past, a demon he no longer desired to do his will. A lot had changed since he said his first words to her, since Bendy left her in his custody.

As she stood before him now, devoured by her heartache and struggles, for a breath he could do nothing but purse his lips and sigh in his own agony. For the first time since she arrived, he thought he understood. But since it had taken so long to, it had come to this- to her possibly irreversible distrust and ferocity. And maybe he could not yet fully comprehend it, but now he began to scratch off the mystery encapsulating her strange behavior.

She was scared. She was scared of…him. After all, he was the first being to find her here…and he welcomed her presence by dragging and entrapping her with not even a second of delay. And unlike him, she just continued to wither and wither with each horror; she had no respite, no healing, no rest.

She was a bird with a broken wing that would squawk and peck viciously because the very hand she needed was the one that had harmed her.

He prayed that Bendy would forgive him. He prayed that he could undo the ever-tightening, strangling knots in what tied she and him together.

Sammy had to start his penance now, while there was still time- before he would be sentenced for the evils he committed. There was much more to say, but here was a beginning:

"I'm sorry."

Every part of her seemed to melt in disbelief. They were words that…contradicted him- him as the person he had solidified himself to be in her journey.

Sorry? He was…sorry?

No. No. He was trying to lull her back into his ruse.

"I…I don't…" Her brow furrowed so hard that her eyes closed, and yet she could still see the glistening man in her mind. "I don't believe you."

Step.

Her shoulders stiffened into her chest and she clenched her fists tighter. She wouldn't look. She shouldn't.

"You…you speak only the truth about how I have harmed you."

Oh, how quickly did her commitment fade as she looked upon him again, her eyes beholding those of his mask- those flat spots of paint that seemed to look back.

"I know I need to atone for my sins before it's too late."

A slight, high pitch sound stirred in her throat as her lids stretched wide at this ominous promise. No- no, he couldn't think he can trick her this easy! She wouldn't let him do whatever he had planned!

"Sammy- Sammy, I-!…" And yet she had no more words. He took another step.

"There's things you don't understand- don't believe about this place. I've taken that for granted. I've taken you for granted."

Somehow her expression of shock could only keep growing beyond what seemed to be its limit.

"I've taken my lord and his mercy for granted."

And then it was clear to her she had no idea what was going on anymore.

Sammy seemed…to be softening in the lights that reached him. He was still, and yet not rigid. The person was melting into someone new- or maybe this was him all along, broken free by human interaction and empathy. He now spoke in barely a whisper, enveloped by discovery and regret.

"You're not the first I've tried to sacrifice. This was not the first time…that Bendy has given me the choice to leave the path of wickedness." His body trembled, began to ripple the ink that wrapped around his soul. She barely, barely heard him speak. "…And maybe this time I'll finally appreciate his miracles."

Finally, he moved ever so slightly. He shrunk backward in a tiny shrug, realizing there needed to be a clearer path in his story for her to follow.

"You say that this is yours?" he asked, barely swinging a hand backward to gesture at the bag behind him.

There was a pause before she nodded, unsure of the inquiry.

"And that you did not bring it with you once you broke past our barrier, into his realm?"

The language he was using disturbed her, but she nodded again even though she thought for certain he already knew these things. He had gone outside to take it, after all.

Right?

Inexplicably, his next mutter was filled with sadness. "I'm afraid that this was not my doing." Before she could retort once more, he continued. "If I could leave, I would never come back."

That was true, and it began to seed within her.

"No…no…I…I think you've been lying to me. You're making that up…You just…don't…" She eventually managed to birth the rest of her deepest fears from her mouth. "…don't want me to leave."

"You saw him, didn't you?"

She gasped.

"You saw our savior." Another step.

There was an overpowering feeling in her chest as she remembered, not just her dying moment but also of just minutes before when Sammy talked to her about "Bendy." The way he described her own dying vision to her before she fully explained what she saw even to herself.

It was real. God, it was real. He had seen it too.

That was the foundation of her conspiracy theory- the idea that he was manipulating her by saying hallucinations were gods to make her stay when she fully well could leave. And now that this was gone-…

He saw her gaze laid behind him at her possessions- unknowing it was a blank stare- so he responded. "It was bestowed upon us by our lord. He sometimes brings gifts of the outside, as a reminder of what lies ahead. Such a thing as this, however…is very unusual," and he continued before any more could be asked, beckoning into their minds a question.

"I don't know what you've done to find his favor."

Sammy shook his head, and small flecks of black dropped to the floor. These thoughts were besides the point.

"Forgive me…There's other things I know that you still don't. Let's not dwell on what neither of us comprehend."

Her eyes streaked side to side and eventually fell back upon him. Yes, he was definitely different now; It was like watching a snowman laying underneath a false spring sun. Yet all that she could say was an automatic, "It's okay."

He sighed once more, his pant slightly wet in its release.

"My lord…punished me harshly the first time I tried to offer a sacrifice." He sounded fully haunted by this memory; this sentence alone stained her with dread as well, and yet there was more to come. "And then…my savior stopped me once again from shedding blood. But unlike the one before you, you were…" She felt his gaze over her whole body, observing the marvel of her existence. "You were already dying."

The discomfort that writhed into her like parasitic worms consumed any desire to speak. This wasn't satisfying for him.

"…Do you understand?"

As she stood before him, it was obvious she did not. He had hoped she did so that the horrible reality of his entire purpose need not be put into words. It choked his heart; surely it would choke his throat.

"This whole time I've been wrong about my lord. I thought- I thought I knew him, and he's proven to me that such an audacity was what has cursed me this whole time."

He couldn't fathom how he was still speaking.

"I couldn't see that this was not what he wanted of me."

He had wasted so much time. He couldn't begin to unwrap the question of if he had grasped this sooner, if it would have changed how much he suffered- how long he waited to be freed. Maybe his past mistakes were conceived in boldness, but such passion had gradually spread through his veins.

"But I think I know what he wants of me now."

The waistband of his overalls had started to overflow, dribble by dribble. And as he took a deep breath, she observed his oozing slow and eventually cease. By the time he spoke again, the shine on his skin betrayed that his body was solidifying, returning to how he was before.

A voice like a wisp of wind blew over her scalp and cooled her skin.

"You're here," he whispered with childish wonder and amazement.

"This is different. He let you live. Live as you are, without becoming as a I am- without becoming this horrible, aching blob of emptiness!" He outstretched himself, overwhelmed by this fact, and eventually fell back down to his humble stance.

As she watched in total silence, the smallest movements in him spoke volumes upon volumes of experience, of suffering. He was a man stripped of everything he was and left only with the knowledge this is not who he should be. It was a life that was only worth living if one possessed hope; he was greatly cursed with such hope.

And in her own matching ignorance of him as he had of her, she also somehow knew this. She hated what it meant.

It meant that he was right.

This genesis of faith was perceived by him as well, and so the prophet evangelized.

"I wish I could explain his ways, his miracles, but…I know in the deepest crevasse of my soul that our exodus is dawning."

Now this, this was a statement that needed a reply, even as it provided much more confusion than it did relief to the woman. She spoke with firmness, with resolve.

"…How soon?"

He titled his head very slightly towards her, his great height now looming a shadow onto her being as he stood close.

"I cannot say. But…" His next words would either reveal her wisdom or her helplessness. "I think you may see the ones you love while they are still alive."

Her mom. Her dad. Her friends. Even Gabby. They were still out there, and always would be.

Her family was locked behind a huge, unimaginably tedious barricade of time…

…that now seemed small compared to eternal purgatory. She tightened her cheeks, facing her coming tears with bravery.

"It's better than never."

The world was quiet here; not even the music in the hall could interrupt this holy commitment. As they were seeped in totally contradictory emotions- one with the elation of release and the other with the obligation of imprisonment- they had once again strengthened their unification.

"My shee- my…friend."

And she saw he had reached his arm over the gap between them. Like before she had yelped, but now only lightly out of surprise rather than distress. Then, it refused to move any further; it would not touch without her consent. This time it was only for their mutual atonement, not for his selfish desires.

It had taken so long for her to respond that by the time her fingers uncurled and stretched towards his, he had begun to retract his own in embarrassment. They both gasped at the sight of each other, as they saw foreign flesh so close to their own. And then, little by little, blood and ink awkwardly inched to find each other and joined in fellowship.

She could feel that he was still dripping slightly, just a small wet touch somewhere leaking from his hand onto hers.

"Sammy…I…I believe you." She steadfastly looked his mask straight on. "I believe you."

The woman was so uneasy. She now knew she was not the first Sammy had tried to kill. She could infer that not only was it unnatural for her to be alive, but for her to not become as…as whatever Sammy was. And maybe he was lying, lying about how he was sorry for what he had done to her.

But she still believed that their existence was now one in the same.

"My dear," her companion corrected, "it's not me you need to believe in."