Chapter 2: Forgotten Remains

Allison,

We've tried to reach you by telephone, but nothing goes through. Not really, anyway, we get put on hold by some agent who never calls us back. I know you must be busy since you've signed on as an actress with Archgate, and you know I wouldn't be reaching out unless it was an emergency. And it is.

The last thing I want to do is bring up what happened so many years ago. I know it's still fresh in your mind. IT's still fresh in mine. If there was any other option, I wouldn't be reaching out like this. I'd want to catch up over coffee or come visit or something.

Allison, we need your help. Audrey is missing.

She's a young woman now. Nineteen already, can you believe it? But her school says she stopped showing up to classes, and when they went to her dorm room, they found…

Allison, please. I hate to think that maybe some part of that park survived, that maybe somehow, some way, that ink machine still exists and it revived something within that ink, within the ruins of that old shut down park, but there's no way it can't be involved. I can tell you more when you get here. I'm begging you, Allison. You and Tom know more about that park and what happened than anyone else, even Henry.

We're planning a trip to the ruins tomorrow. We don't know for sure that's where Audrey is, but Henry seems positive that some of the stuff we found in her dorm room can only come from the ink machine, can only come from that park. That damned park!

I want all of this to be behind us. But I'm so scared. It's been three days.

Please help us. Please. I know you're a mom now too. Ik now this isn't easy to ask. But we have to go back to Bendyland.

Linda

Allison set the letter down on her kitchen table. It was surrounded by bills, fanmail, and letters from her agent. A normal letter on light pink stationary just laying on her table next to faded scratches and marks of forks and knives.

"Momma? You don't look so good. Everything okay?"

A young girl stared up at Allison. Her owlishly wide eyes were identical to her own, something actors and agents loved, but her hair and nose looked just like Tom's - cute and perfect.

"I'm alright sweetheart. Did you need something?"

She shook her head. "No, just wanted to see if you were okay. You are okay, right?"

Allison smiled and ruffled her daughter's hair. Even if she were almost ten years old already, ruffling her hair was a hard habit to break. Normally her daughter swatted her hands away, mumbling about it ruining her hair and ribbons, but today she let it happen, and Allison was grateful.

"I'm all good, sweetheart. Check on your brother for me, Eve?"

She rolled her eyes. "He's just watching TV again. Same as always."

"And your father?"

"In the garage."

Allison chuckled. "I should have known. Alright, well, go watch TV with your brother for a while, I'm going to talk to dad. Okay? Then we'll get started on dinner. I think he said he's going to make roast and potatoes tonight, sounds good, yeah?"

Eve wrinkled her little nose. "With carrots?"

"Yes, Eve, with carrots, and you're going to eat at least one of them."

The little girl sulked off to the TV, where another of Allison's children was sitting. The boy looked more like Allison herself; fluffy black hair that was often impossible to comb. He barely flinched when his sister came to sit beside him, but the second she reached for the remote, he started to howl.

"NO! I wanna watch this!"

Eve glanced back at Allison.

"Carter, it's time for your sister to have a turn, okay? You can have a turn after her."

Carter pouted and looked like he may cry, but after flipping through the channels briefly, Eve just flipped it back to whatever they were watching before, some show with dancing people in costumes, and both kids settled in.

Allison had hated the idea of getting a TV at first. The thought of the kids coming across a rerun of a Bendy cartoon made her blood run cold, and that little jingle ringing through her house used to make her break out into a cold sweat. Tom, too. They had an unspoken rule; the TV could stay, but no cartoons. And the kids, thankfully, followed the rule.

After grabbing the letter in question, Allison headed out to the garage. It was separated from their main estate, a nice, two story house they'd gotten along the beach for a good deal. It was close enough to Archgate's main studio that on nice days, Allison could walk instead of drive or take a bus to work, and the backyard led right out into the sand and beaches. A personal slice of heaven. Tom had built the garage a few years after Eve had been born, wanting things to tinker on and work with while she was at work. It had been an adjustment, Tom learning to be a stay at home father while she went to work. But he took to it well, and Allison had never seen him happier than when he was playing with the kids or cooking for them. And he was a surprisingly good cook too.

Allison tried the knob to the garage door and, finding it stuck again, instead yanked the long chain link that hoisted the main shutter into the air. Immediately, loud music and the blaring sound of a buzzing saw erupted into the yard.

"TOM!" Allison shouted, but of course, her voice was drowned out by the sounds of trumpets and rhythmic blades. She squeezed her way past a half-finished truck, the hood popped and various engine parts scattered around at her feet. As she turned the corner, part of the shop's shelving dug into her back and she cursed. "TOM!"

A few feet from her, her husband was hunkered over his workbench, a welder's mask covering his face as his hand moved the saw up and down large planks of wood.

She huffed and moved over to turn off the radio. Almost instantly, the saws stopped and Tom lifted his mask, looking around in bewilderment. When he saw Allison, he smiled widely. "Ah! The culprit! Stole the music and my heart."

Allison opened her mouth to speak, but Tom was already up from his chair before she could and scooped her into a kiss. He reeked of motor oil and sweat.

"Tom," she said, pulling back after a moment. "We need to talk."

His thick brow furrowed. "What? What's wrong?" He set down his tools and turned the safety on the saw off.

"Got a letter," Allison said. She felt sick again all at once remembering what she was holding in her hands. "It's from Linda and Henry."

Tom paled. Almost on instinct, she saw him reach for the wrench on the work table, then slowly let his hand fall back at his side. "I'm guessing …it's not a good letter."

"Audrey's missing," Allison said. "And they found ink in her room. Everywhere, like something had attacked her."

Tom sank back into his seat. Allison found herself missing the music or the sound of the saw. It was better than this silence.

"Tom, you don't think the ink machine could have survived that explosion, do you?" Allison asked. "I mean, we heard it explode. The whole park fell down on top of it, it's a giant pile of rubble and dust now. It couldn't have survived. Right?"

Tom didn't answer. He just kept looking down at his hand. Allison felt her eyes drift up to his arm, his missing arm, and the sleeve that just hung limply at his side without an arm to support it.

They'd all had scars leftover. Some were just more visible than others.

"The ink machine absorbed all of the ink from the park to overload it," Tom said. "But maybe there was ink left behind."

"But without the machine, wouldn't it just be lifeless ink?" Allison asked.

"I don't know," Tom said.

"I don't understand, that whole park is buried in the ground, the machine can't have survived. It has to be gone, and if it's gone, the ink should mean nothing. So then, why was her room like that? Where is she? Could she have been going to the park, could there still have been living ink down there? Oh God, could it still be down there, in the ground?"

"I don't know!" Tom shouted.

Allison went quiet. Tom didn't shout often. She knew he wasn't shouting at her, he was just shouting in general. She wanted to shout too. She wanted to scream and throw things around the room, break things, hurt things, kick and scream and cry and wail and drive away until she ran out of gas. But none of that would make this go away. Even moving clear across the country wasn't enough to escape the ink.

"What does she want with us?" Tom mumbled. "Why'd she tell you all this? It's not our problem."

"Their daughter is missing, Tom," Allison said. "She wants us to go help her find Audrey. She said we know the park better than anyone else, so we might be able to help."

"No," Tom said sternly.

"Tom, what if it was our daughter, or son? When you went missing somewhere in that park, Henry helped me find you and save you. I need to go and help them," Allison started.

"No! No, please," Tom said, and his voice broke all at once as he grabbed her. "Allison, please. Please don't go. Please just leave it behind. Pretend you never got that letter. Burn it, bury it, shred it, I don't care, just please let this go. Please."

Allison grabbed his hand and moved it from her shoulder to her chest. He could feel her heartbeat beneath his palm, the sturdy, steady rhythm he'd almost lost once.

"Tom," she said. "I'm going to help them."

" …I know," he replied. His voice was so quiet, she could barely hear it.

"Tom. Stay here, with the kids," Allison said.

His grip on her hand tightened. " …I want to go with you. To keep you safe."

She smiled and patted his cheek. "I think I kept you safe most of the time. Besides. Should the worst happen, the kids will need-"

"Stop. Please don't finish that sentence," he said. "Or I won't let you go, I'll tie you to a chair if I have to. If you're going to go, you only go if I think you're planning on coming back."

"Of course I am," Allison said, and kissed his forehead.

"What are you going to tell the kids?" he asked.

"A half truth," Allison said. "I'll just call it an …extended business trip."

Tom nodded. "Can you stay tonight, at least? Leave in the morning?"

Allison smiled. "Yeah. I think I'd like that. Can the kids sleep in the bed with us tonight, too?"

Tom hugged her tightly against him. "Yeah. Yeah I think that sounds good."

She leaned into his hug, memorizing the feel of it, the warmth, everything good about it. She was going to need all the goodness her heart could carry where she was going. He didn't let go for a while. He was shaking against her, his whole frame wracked with motion as he tried to contain sobs.

She didn't want to go either. But she didn't feel like she had much of a choice.

That night, Allison took her time tucking her kids into bed. Eve grabbed her arm before she could pull away, those owlish eyes peering right through her. "Mama. Are you going to be gone a while on your trip?"

"I hope not, sweetheart," Allison said, and kissed her forehead. "You know I'll miss you, right? Take care of your brother while I'm gone. And your father too, when he asks for help around the house. Okay?"

"Okay," Eve said. "Will you bring me back some souvenirs?"

"Oh I'm sure I can bring you back something. What do you want?"

Eve tilted her head slightly. "Hmmm …a new storybook. No! A stuffed animal. Um… " She giggled. "Surprise me, I guess. Something you would have liked when you were my age!"

"Oh-ho, a challenge! Well when I was your age, the only thing I wanted to be was an actress on stage," Allison said. "That's not what you want though, right? You want to be a veterinarian."

"Yup!" Eve said proudly. "Hehe. I'll miss you mama. But I hope you have fun!"

Allison's smile twitched slightly. "I'll, uh, certainly try." She kissed her daughter on her forehead again, tucking her in with her favorite stuffed animal. She was perhaps getting a bit too old for stuffed animals, but Allison wasn't going to tell her that. Her daughter could like whatever she wanted. She was determined to make this world a place where her daughter could laugh and smile happily. Where she could live freely and without fear.

As long as there was the smallest chance the ink machine lived, that the demon could have lived, the world wasn't safe.

Allison flipped the lights off to Eve's room and headed down the hall. She pulled down the string leading to the attic, took a deep breath, and climbed the stairs. The lights up in the attic were old and musty, flickering from years of little to no use. She stumbled over Christmas decorations and Halloween costumes to approach a wooden chest in the back of the attic.

Kneeling in front of it, Allison steeled herself. Took a moment to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. Then she opened it.

Mounds of papers and records awaited her. Songs and memorabilia of Alice Angel's smiling face greeted her. Dolls and posters and records. Autographed books and lines she'd written herself once. Music sheets. Chipped mugs. All sorts of souvenirs.

Allison didn't know why she kept it. She'd tried to throw it all away countless times but couldn't. She just couldn't. Now, she was glad she hadn't.

She rummaged through the items locked away to find what she was looking for.

Henry and Linda's phone number.

"Probably should have kept this in a more practical location," she said. "Sorry for burying you all for so long."

Audrey went to close the chest, but before she could, something in the corner of the room caught her eye. She paused and bit her bottom lip, then nodded and picked it up.

"Never thought I'd need this thing again," Allison whispered.

Gripping her husband's altered Gent wrench in her hands, Allison closed the chest and headed out of the closet. The phone hung in the hallway, and Allison dialed Henry and Linda's number. It only got out half a ring before a frantic voice answered on the other line.

"Audrey?!"

"No, sorry," Allison said.

Linda sighed. "Hello Allison. I'm assuming you got my letter?"

"Yeah," Allison said.

"And …?"

A long pause followed, but then Allison nodded.

"I'll catch the first flight out tomorrow morning."

The sound of drums beat through the ground and rippled puddles. Solid. Steady. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

When Bendy awoke, the drums were pounding in his ears. His first instinct was to cover them, shaking off their cacophony. It didn't stop, and only after being forced to listen to that beat again and again did Bendy realize they weren't drums at all.

It was a heartbeat.

The room around him was cold and familiar, like a needle pricking at the back of his mind. Candles flickered in the corners, littered behind barrels and on top of inky, murky puddles.

Audrey. Where was Audrey?

His head swung around, back and forth, but he didn't see her. He didn't see anyone in the small little room he'd awoken in, and aside from the candles, ink, and pentagram drawn so carefully underneath him, he was completely alone.

Slowly, Bendy wobbled to his feet. The pounding was getting stronger. He could feel it beneath his shoes, from deep in the ground. As he took a step toward the door, it felt like he was marching along to the rhythm. When he opened the door, however, the heartbeat stopped. A dark and empty corridor awaited him, with hanging signs and tapestries of angels, demons, and wolves taunting him from the ceiling. Planks of wood were laid out, floating carefully above the ink to create a narrow walkway. Vents blew out puffs of sickly-smelling air; a cold breeze that pulled shivers down his spine.

He knocked on the wall as loud as he could, two knocks in quick succession. It was his way of calling for Audrey, if she were ever out of sight. He'd knock twice, and she'd knock back or call out to him.

This time when he knocked, nothing answered.

He gulped, and headed down the corridor, knocking again as he went, as hard as he could without hurting his knuckles.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock.

A drop of ink fell into the ink beside him with a loud "ploop!" and Bendy jumped in the air, startled by such a small noise. When he realized what it was, he breathed a silent sigh of relief and continued on his way.

Where was Audrey? Where were they? What exactly had happened back in the room, anyway?

Something had been calling out to them both, an angry old voice from the depths of somewhere dark. It had pulled them both away into darkness, dragged them down until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, and now he was here, in some strange new place.

It felt like the park. Like a part of him he'd left behind a long, long time ago. An ancient, old part of him that was as tied to the ink as the machine - a longing, a pulling, a tether binding him in place. He'd severed that tie a long time ago.

Or …so he thought.

Bendy rounded the corner of the dark hallway and came face-to-face with a dead end, a wall covered with inky writing.

HOLD FAITH, FOR HE SHALL RISE AGAIN

STAY STRONG BELIEVERS, OUR LORD IS COMING

Shivers ran down his spine. There was a churning thickness in his stomach. The toast from breakfast wasn't sitting well with him anymore.

Memories kept bubbling to the surface. Walking through the park, soaking in the cheers and the laughter and the music. All smiles and sunshine and joy. And then after dark. The believers, the worshippers, their songs and chants and praises. Some fell at his feet as he walked by, leaving inky trails, others screamed and cowered in fear, and everything was always such an angry, moving blur.

He had done terrible things to people.

He turned away from the writing on the wall and wrapped his arms around himself. He knocked on the wall faster than before, practically running away in the opposite direction.

Knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock-

Something slammed against the wall and Bendy flinched. He spun around to see what had knocked back and froze.

A mirror. An enormous mirror greeted him, smeared with dirt and ink and sludge. Staring back at him was the face of a monster. Teeth stretching out in an eerie grin, ink falling down in front of his eyes until there was nothing left, nothing but that jeer and claws and an almost comically sad and saggy bowtie.

He pressed his hand against the glass and stared at his reflection.

Monster.

Freak.

"Demon," his reflection said back to him. Its grin widened, lifting a finger to point right at Bendy's chest. "We are a demon. We are a god."

Bendy shook his head vigorously back and forth, but his reflection didn't. His reflection just kept staring at him and smiling.

Go away! Go away! He wanted to shout, mouth opening, but no sound came out.

His reflection started laughing at him.

"Are you scared? Are you frightened, little demon? Maybe you should let me have control again. Being a monster is better than being a helpless little child."

Bendy shook his head again, rearing his small fist back and slamming it against the glass. He wanted that glass to break, he wanted that monster to go back where it belonged, buried down inside of him. He needed to suffocate it and break it and end it. His puny fists bounced off the glass, again and again and again, until finally the smallest crack appeared. The jagged line stretched across the mirror, splitting his terrifying reflection into hundreds of jagged mouths, all laughing at him all at once.

He started to run.

And the sound of a heartbeat, pounding in his ears, matching with his footsteps. Pushing him down the hall, around the corner, through the vents, crawling and crawling until his hands hurt and then crawling again, bursting through the other side and tumbling down. He fell down from the vents onto the ground, landing roughly on his chest. His eyes watered but he angrily wiped away his tears.

The laughing had stopped.

The heartbeat hadn't.

Bendy looked up, and was face to face with something he really didn't think he'd ever see again.

The ink machine tauntingly loomed in front of him, suspended in the air by chains. It looks pristine; perfect. It didn't look at all like it had been destroyed, but Bendy remembered. Bendy remembered that night, when he'd overloaded the machine with ink and everything was loud and hot and angry, and Joey was crying and Audrey was telling him goodbye. He remembered the feeling of the machine exploding, like his chest was erupting and breaking. Like his head was going to cave in.

And then he was waking up in a jar in Audrey's room.

The machine had died. The lifeblood, the source of his power and Joey's control had died.

But here it stood, perfectly intact. It looked better than new. Sparkling screws and metal beams practically glistened in the candlelight.

He raised a gloved hand to his chest. The heartbeat. It was his. Audrey's heartbeat was different, it was alive and warm and full of blood and life. He didn't have one. Not until now. There was nothing to pump ink into his veins. But here, before him, this pounding in his ears and in his chest was a piece of him that had been ripped away for so long.

But …something was different.

He finally pulled his eyes away from the machine to look around. There were sketches, drawings of characters and people he hadn't seen before. This wasn't familiar to him. Who was this strange sailor? Or this little ghost girl? Why were these drawings next to the machine, and why were inky footsteps leading away from the puddle underneath it?

He picked up one of the drawings. This one was of him. An older drawing. A bouncy, happy little demon. No bigger than a child. A forever young, forever naive little thing. He crumpled up the paper in his hands.

"Tired of being weak?"

He wasn't sure if the monster's voice was coming from the machine or inside of him. But it was the only thing louder than the heartbeat.

"We don't have to be weak. We can be strong. We can be whatever we want to be. Joey couldn't use the machine perfectly. But we can."

Something came over him, all at once. A pull inside of him. Maybe it was the demon in his head. Maybe it was a desire he'd buried down inside of him after years of watching Audrey grow older while he just stayed the same.

Bendy grabbed a piece of paper, an inkwell, and started to draw.

Audrey had taught him what to do. How to trace the lines, all about shapes and proportions. What looked natural and what looked uncanny. The creation was creating something of his own for once.

After a few minutes, Bendy looked down at his creation. It was a simple drawing and a simple wish, but he knew it would work. Maybe the machine had been listening. Maybe it had survived this long to answer this call inside of him, this deepest desire he'd kept locked away under lock and key.

A lever stood diligently at the corner of the room, just waiting for him to pull it. To start the machine.

Gripping his drawing tightly in his hand, Bendy walked over to the lever. He felt the cold metal through his gloves. The heartbeat surrounding him quickened like an anxious, up-tempo song reaching its long awaited climax.

"Pull it."

The machine whirred to life.

Thanks for waiting a bit later in the day for this chapter to go live, right before I went to submit it, the formatting glitched and I had to resubmit everything. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, feel free to post theories in your reviews! I wonder what Bendy drew?

Also. Good lord this chapter ended up being super long. I got a little carried away. Well, enjoy!

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