A/N: Hello, hello, and welcome back! (Or welcome for the first time, if it's your first time!)

We haven't reached the studio yet on our little journey, but fret not, Audrey will embark soon. Hopefully nothing bad has happened to Henry or, God forbid, Linda... but it's Joey Drew Studios, what could possibly happen?

This chapter's a click longer than the last. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Two: HOW COULD ONE RESIST THIS?

AUDREY

"Shhhhh," her grandma hummed, quietly into her hair. Audrey dropped to the floor, and the arms wrapped tightly around her went with her, lowering her to the smooth wood of the bedroom floor.

Audrey curled into the embrace, her mind screaming with the tattered fragments of the nightmare. Thoughts blinked in and out of view. Momma and Dad. Gone.

"Shhh. It's going to be all right," her grandma said, rocking with her on the hardwood.

"Where are they?" Audrey asked, her voice shaking. It's wrong. It's all wrong. It's never happened like this. It's never supposed to happen like this.

"Gone," her mamaw replied, quietly, then more firmly. "Gone on a trip."

She pulled Audrey back and away, looking at her up and down. Irene's frame was tiny, not much larger than Audrey's, but her dark skin and silver, tight cropped hair gave her a look of austere authority, like a general. Her eyes, however, so brown they were almost black, spoke of lifetimes lived in one.

"Find your breathing," Irene told Audrey, and reflexively, Audrey slowly took a deep breath. Irene breathed with her. "Now out. Good."

The roar in Audrey's head eased for a moment. Irene began her humming again, and Audrey closed her eyes, searching through the tattered scraps of memory she had from the night. There's something I have to remember. What was it? What is it?

Something flickered behind her eyelids for just a moment - a face, a grimace of a smile. Audrey felt her heart in her ears, and she shrieked, clutching her head.

Irene wrapped her up again, singing now, an old tune with words wrapped into Audrey's subconscious. After a tortuous moment, Audrey's heart slowed, and she devolved into a series of sobs wracking her body completely.

"Good Lord, child," Irene said. She tipped Audrey's head up toward her, gently despite Audrey's resistance. "These episodes are worse now. What has been after you in those dreams?"

"I don't know," Audrey sobbed, "but I think it got Momma and Dad."

A flicker passed over Irene's face - just for a moment, no more, not long enough to identify the emotion with it. She sighed. "I always knew that studio was no good for your daddy. Now it's haunting you, too?"

"Not his fault," Audrey hiccuped. "Not any of their faults."

Irene paused. "Who, honey?"

Audrey felt more tears. "I don't know."

Irene pursed her lips. "I know it ain't his fault, sweet girl. Not anymore, anyway. But some things just won't stop hunting you down." She brushed Audrey's hair back from her face gently. "That trip your parents are taking should be over by nightfall. So, until then, we wait patiently."

Audrey curled up on her grandma's chest, leaning into the embrace. After a moment, she blinked. Her grandma's heart was thumping in her chest, fast as a hummingbird's.

Irene hummed, the calming noise contrasting with the snare drum of her heartbeat. "Lord willing, we'll see them soon enough."

Unmaking. Being unmade, remade, reformed in a sea, an ocean of blackness, pure dark pouring in and tearing away at the light, where is the light, the LIGHT -

Audrey let out another sob and buried her head in her grandma's embrace.

"Honey, you need to see a doctor or a priest, and maybe not in that order," Irene said, inches from Audrey's face.

Audrey jumped, startled back into full awareness, and pancake batter splattered onto the countertop from the limp spatula in her hand. She scooted farther back, till the barstool she was sitting on squeaked in protest.

Irene straightened, placed the back of her hand against Audrey's forehead. "You're pretty warm too. You having seizures?"

"No," Audrey said, staring down at the batter.

The kitchen was now spotless, except for the countertop where Audrey was mindlessly stirring pancakes.

Her grandma rounded the countertop again, back to the stove, and cracked an egg onto the counter's edge. "Some seizures are like that, you don't even know you're having them until a doctor looks at you. Abstinence seizures, I think they're called. Then they'll hand you some fancy medication that you can't pay for half the time." Irene split it open over the pan with a bit too much force, smashing the eggshell into her palm. She muttered something sharp under her breath.

Audrey watched a waft of steam from the pan drift past her eyebrows. Inside, she scrabbled for her lost thoughts. There was something important at the edge of her consciousness, not a thought but more of a feeling. It darted around the periphery of her mind, evading her like a terrified animal.

"Mamaw, when did they leave?"

Her grandma put her hands on the counter, hunching her shoulders. "Early this morning, when I first got here. They said they didn't know quite how long it would take. Might could be till-" Irene hesitated- "till next morning, I expect." She glanced to the left, toward Audrey's parents' bedroom. "They said as much."

Audrey tasted blood and realized she'd bitten down on her tongue at some point, cutting it. "Oh."

"They called me yesterday, I drove all night," Irene said, and threw what she probably thought was a smile over her shoulder, though it looked a touch more like a grimace of pain. "I'll need a nap here shortly. So will you."

Audrey shook her head mutely.

Irene sighed and went back to cracking eggs. "We gotta keep taking those steps, honey. Keep moving forward. You hear me?"

Audrey nodded, taking a deep breath, before something slammed into her mind like a ton of bricks.

She slid off her stool and darted out of the kitchen, running to the bathroom. There was a sudden clatter of utensils and Irene's footsteps hurtling after her, but Audrey only barely registered them before tumbling to her knees in front of the toilet and violently throwing up.

After a moment, she felt callused hands pull her hair back, stroking it gently as she emptied her stomach over and over again, nothing in her mind but pounding panic.

"What has gotten into you, child?" her grandma asked, worry etched into every vowel.

Audrey wanted to sob, I don't know, but couldn't even catch her breath. She felt emotion after emotion pouring through her but could only recognize a few as her own, leaving her shaking.

For the second time that day, Irene held Audrey as she cried.

The morning blurred into noon, then afternoon. Once Audrey had recovered, Irene took her for a walk, where the sun soothed them both. They tried to draw, which reduced Audrey to a shivering mess again for a short while.

After a mug of hot chocolate, helping to calm her down, Irene played a few mind games, such as showing her signs and asking what words they meant. Audrey picked up a few, learning directions and conversational words.

"What word was that?" Irene asked, startling Audrey out of her focus.

"Which one?"

"The last one."

"I thought it was father," Audrey said, frowning at her hands.

"You made devil horns first," Irene corrected.

Audrey blinked at her. For a moment, images hiding at the corner of her mind flared, and she swiped at her eyes, surprised at yet more tears. "Why?"

"A small mistake, that's all," Irene said, with a slight frown. "Let's stop here, all right, honey? We can work on dinner."

Audrey glanced outside. The shadows had lengthened, quite a bit, since she last looked. "Already? I'm not hungry."

"I didn't think so, but for industry's sake, we'll cook anyway," Irene agreed. She gave Audrey a tight smile. With the small artist tricks her dad had taught her, Audrey noted how her grandma's face was taut, pulling her gentle wrinkles across her face strangely.

"They're still not home," Audrey whispered.

"Then we'll make dinner in case they make it in time," Irene said briskly. She pushed up from the floor with a groan. "And you need to have some ice cream to settle that stomach."

A few hours later, with a surplus of turkey grilled cheese sandwiches stacked neatly in the fridge and with Audrey's stomach uneasily full of chocolate peanut butter ice cream, Irene insisted on bed. Audrey's arguments fell on deaf ears, and with the exhaustion of a day of sobbing behind Irene, she didn't argue very long.

The bunk bed, cradle of sweet dreams and nightmares for Audrey, felt incredibly soft. She collapsed into her own pillows and curled into a ball, leaving Irene to go to her tiptoes to tuck the blanket around her.

"Are you not going to sleep yet?" Audrey asked her, from the nest she'd made.

"Not yet, honey. I'll wait up for some time and watch for them." Irene frowned out the bedroom door, at the master bedroom across from them.

"I can stay up with you," Audrey said, forcing back the exhaustion to sit up again, though she slumped quickly. "I won't sleep anyway."

"Absolutely not." Irene softened just slightly at Audrey's wince. "Sweet girl, if you stay up, you're going to work yourself into a state. And depending on if- when they get back, we may have some important decisions to make that I want to be fully ready for. I will wake you at a moment's notice if they are here," she promised.

"You didn't sleep last night, though," Audrey argued.

"And you have been throwing up off and on all day," Irene said. She pushed up on the lower bed to bring her eyes on a level with Audrey's. "My number one goal is to keep you safe, Audrey. Before anything else. And that means you need to be ready for anything, too." At Audrey's look of mutiny, she sighed. "Sleep, soldier. That's an order."

Audrey buried her face in the blanket. "Don't order me around, Mamaw. It's not fair."

Irene laughed, a low and melodic sound, then groaned as she stepped back down off the bed. "Benefit of a long life, honey. The worst part is these creaky knees. Now, sleep well. I'll be praying protection over you and your momma alike."

Audrey closed her eyes. Terrified as she may have been, she could feel the darkness of a day of pure exhaustion reaching out for her.

Momma needs the prayers, she thought, before the black took her.

Face after face after face of blank darkness, trickling over what might once have been features. Golden eyes staring back at her.

A roar resounding in the darkness, shaking the building, sending tremors through the wood and her alike.

One by one, the gold light dimmed, fading from the eyes, till they were snuffed out.

A golden flare built far distant in the darkness, a small blink that burned into a flame. In a single moment, gold exploded outward, searing the dark and smashing through the walls, burning all in its wake and leaving it shining.

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

A two-pitched insane scream split the air. A double-edged roar of fury answered.

Audrey burst upright, panting in the darkness.

It took her a moment to get her bearings. Middle of the night. Bed.

Mamaw! Dad, Momma…

With a moment of hope, Audrey shoved the blankets off, before freezing and listening. The house was silent but for a small snore in the direction of the kitchen. Worse still, the house felt empty still, like there was a piece of it missing.

They aren't home.

A black maw opened up in Audrey's heart, reaching out for her. They're not coming home.

She shook violently for a moment, no tears left to cry. Then she twisted to the right and dropped over the side of the bunk bed. I can at least look, right?

With the practiced ease of a cat, Audrey slipped from the bedroom door into the main living space. She padded silently forward. Left step there, avoid the creaking floorboard. Shift to the side to dodge the lamp. Step onto the rug to muffle my footsteps.

The living room flickered with shadow as Audrey passed the open door to the kitchen. Irene was slumped, head in hands, forward on the kitchen table. A flicker of light gleamed from one of her eyes, half-open. Audrey's breath hitched, but after a moment, a gentle snore rolled from her grandma, and the breath Audrey held escaped in a quiet whoosh.

What do I do now? Should I wake Mamaw up? Audrey sighed. She needs to sleep.

I still don't know where Momma and Dad went.

I could check their room?

Audrey turned on her heel and padded back through the living room, the cool light of the single kitchen lightbulb flickering over the furniture as she went, casting her shadow huge against the opposite wall. The door to her parents' room loomed, and she twisted the handle, pulling back on it with practiced ease to keep the hinges from creaking.

Audrey stretched out her hands, the tiny amount of light leaking through under the doorframe allowing her to see where the edge of the bed was. She stumbled her way across the room and twisted the knob to the small lamp on her mom's side of the bed. Warmth spilled across the room as the incandescent bulb flickered on, and Audrey glanced around.

Though she'd been in here many times before, Audrey couldn't help but smile. Her parent's room sang of them both. Linda's touch could be seen everywhere throughout the room: in the handmade quilt on the bed, the weathered lamp hung in one corner, the hints of antique gold hidden in little corners of the bookshelves and windowsills or features of the bedside table, slightly misshapen pillows from mom-daughter arts and crafts scattered.

Henry's presence was a little more obvious. Art decorated three of the four walls, almost papering them completely. The big wall for the beginning of projects, the wall with the window for projects in development, and the wall with the bookshelf for Dad to sketch the characters.

The fourth wall, at the head of the bed, rarely changed. This wall featured nine drawings, eight of which were drawings of Linda or Audrey in different moments. The ninth was only altered once a year, on Audrey's birthday, when Henry would redo the family portrait. This year's was new enough that Audrey hadn't gotten used to it yet - last year, she'd been on Henry's back, but this year Henry had drawn her with her arms around both of her parents' shoulders, pulling them in for a tight hug.

She studied her parents through her dad's eyes: her father, blonde hair near-white, with pale, pale skin, was a sharp contrast to her mother, dark skin and corkscrew curls, cropped in almost a halo close to her head. What they both shared, though, was a sparkle in their eyes and their wide smiles. Audrey grinned between them, though not out at the world - she was reaching toward the pen behind her laughing father's ear.

Audrey slowly climbed up on the bed, the sparks of joy from a moment ago souring into a weight pulling on her. She hesitated a moment, then reached up to the portrait, gently tugging it off the wall.

More tears came. Audrey hastily tossed the sketch to the side and buried her face in a pillow, curling up in a ball, every shaky breath in pulling in the scent of her parents. The shadows across the room seemed to flicker and loom closer.

Images tore into Audrey's mind, so fast that she couldn't process them. An axe falling. A woman screaming. A creature stretched out and cut open on a table. Being chased. Being caught. Pure blackness. Teeth. Alone.

With every pelting thought, Audrey gasped, unable to halt the process. She shook on the bed, arms curled around her head, trying desperately to stave off the images.

Audrey dragged a pillow into her mouth, biting down hard, and took a deep breath. She screamed a silent scream - pain and terror and helplessness poured into the escape of air from her lungs.

One thought flickered in her mind during her cry. Help me.

A burst of brilliant, warm light seared her eyelids.

The pain slowed. The images stopped.

Audrey hiccuped, trying to catch her breath, and sat up. She stared around wildly. Did the lamp explode?

The lamp sat innocently on the bedside table, continuing to trickle its warmth over the suddenly-brighter room.

A gentle snore from the main area told Audrey that either she hadn't actually been screaming, or Irene was purely exhausted. She frowned, cautiously taking a slow breath, then another. The images and thoughts remained at bay.

Momma. Dad. Still not home. Audrey scrubbed at her face. They're still in trouble.

So I'm going to find them.

"I can help," Audrey whispered into the room. "I will help."

The proclamation made no difference to the room, but Audrey felt lighter somehow, like her mind had been tuned to the right frequency just like her dad twisted the knob on the radio.

But how?

Audrey glanced around the room, then dropped off the bed with a quiet thud and reached under the bed. The shoebox she was looking for - the forbidden box - came easily to hand. See, Momma, no point in banning this spot from hide-and-seek.

The shoebox was mostly empty. Audrey lifted three newspapers, a crumpled piece of paper, and a folded sketch. An old fountain pen and inkwell sat in the box as well, both completely dry.

The two newspapers blared something about a studio closing and disappearances of many individuals. The name Joey Drew caught Audrey's eye - she caught a memory of her dad muttering the name a few times.

As Audrey lifted the third newspaper, something rustled in its folds, and a piece of paper fell from its folds. Audrey snatched it up and unfolded it.

It was a quick sketch. Audrey recognized her dad's work. A tall dog, a woman with a halo and a little odd child with an upside-down crescent head skipped along a path. She looked closer. The woman had horns, and the child wasn't a child at all- it was all black, and dark, and grinning.

Love from Boris, Alice Angel, and Bendy (the little scamp) read the caption.

Audrey stared at the drawing, and her vision blurred-

-darkness, and teeth, and an awful smile, and a long howl all alone in the dark and pain and alone and alone and ALONE-

-she yelped and flung the paper. It fluttered up into the air and twirled toward the bed, landing upside down on the neat coverlet.

The snoring from the other room faltered for a moment, then resumed. Audrey stared at the paper, her heart pounding in her chest. There it is.

What's 'it'?

I have no idea. But that's it.

Momma and Dad are there.

Audrey set her jaw and snatched the third newspaper up again. She scanned it, and this time, she struck gold.

"The closing of Joey Drew Studios has directly impacted local businesses for the worse," the author wrote. "Pat Patterson, owner of Pats' Diner, complains that he's lost half of his customers after the shutdown. "That crowd used to be in here all the time, since that godforsaken studio is just a few miles down the road", Pat says. "But now that it's closed, we're having to make less moon pies. Never would [have] guessed it in a million years."'

Audrey squinted at the statement, filing the information away. Dad's taken me to Pats' before. That's up north, the other side of town. And Pat recognized him.

So the studio is in that direction.

What did Mamaw say earlier? "I always knew that studio was no good for your daddy."

Momma and Dad are at the studio. And that's up north of town. I can find it.

Audrey lifted her head. For a moment, the light from the lamp seemed brighter, the shadows retreating to the very edges of the corners.

Then I'm going to find them.

Ten minutes later, Audrey slipped out of her bedroom window loaded down with one backpack, fifteen sandwiches, two bottles of water, a pocket knife from her dad, a lighter she grabbed from the mantle, the sketch of her family, and the little drawing of the three cartoon characters she'd found.

I can't believe Mamaw didn't wake up. She must have been exhausted. Audrey huffed a tiny laugh to herself. I guess being eighty, driving for ten hours during the night, and then taking care of me is kind of exhausting anyways. I hope she finds my note.

Audrey dropped to the ground and ran to her bike, taking off at a run and swinging one leg over the seat when she'd got enough momentum. Good thing Dad and I fixed the brakes last week.

The moon hung in the air, half-waxing, lighting the path just enough for Audrey to shoot through the empty streets. She pedaled furiously, throwing her full weight onto the pedals, attacking hills like they'd insulted her family (and for the moment, she was determined enough to believe it). The cool night air rushed in and out of her lungs, the worry seeming to melt away with the peace of the night.

In what felt like no time at all, Audrey slowed to a stop in front of Pats', the dim light off the red neon sign backlighting her against the road. She looked both ways on the road the squat building sat on, took a deep breath, and kicked the pedals back into gear heading away from the streetlights.

Slower now, the pedals and clink of the bike chain were more melodic. Half a mile, and the trees swallowed the road: another quarter mile, and Audrey silently thanked the makers of the local road system that the road was relatively straight, or she would've been lost.

She almost missed it. Audrey jerked her head around to the right as she passed the small opening in the silent oaks. She skidded to a halt, then swung off her bike and dragged it closer. Two posts marked the opening of the once-paved, now mostly gravel drive, with large CLOSED signs flanking it like gargoyles. Two chains hung from the posts, but instead of crossing the driveway, they were flung to the side of the path.

Audrey looked up at the drive. Hidden in the trees, significantly rotted, stood a large sign, with painted letters that had decayed. She cautiously pulled her bike closer.

Welcome! Where Your Dreams Will Come To Life! the sign read.

Underneath the letters, something was painted that looked vaguely like a crescent-headed figure. It could have been waving.

Audrey narrowed her eyes, swung back up onto her bike, and took off down the drive, leaving the chains and decrepit sign far behind her.

The short drive flew by, Audrey's speed kicking up gravel behind her. She leaned into the pedaling, the rhythmic motion driving all thoughts from her head, focused only on reaching the building at the end of the drive.

Until she turned the corner and saw her dad's truck.

Audrey's heart went into overtime. She pushed the petals as hard as she could and nearly crashed against the side mirror. There was nobody inside, of course, but Audrey wanted to cry, and couldn't figure out if it was from relief or fear.

She looked past the truck, saw the studio, and decided on fear.

The whole thing looked old and abandoned, like it was struggling just to stay up. The sign on its roof had once said JOEY DREW STUDIOS in bold letters, but now read J EY DRE S DI S. The windows were boarded shut. And despite the years- close to forty of them now- no grass grew in the entire lot. The ground lay barren, dusty and dry.

Audrey swallowed. Her mind screamed at her, terror pouring through her bones, every rational part of her body making her aware that this was not a place she should be.

But something deep within her bones stirred. And Audrey, with a glance at her father's truck, leaned her bike against it and slowly walked toward the door.

Each step crunched dead barren earth, crashing through the eerie silence. Each step jarred the fear in her throat a little higher. Each step brought her mind closer to a meltdown.

The vibration humming through her whole body, however, ignored her mind. And Audrey already knew what she had to do.

She stepped toward the door and laid her hand on the knob. Her mind had begun to scream, an endless, awful sound for her ears alone, and Audrey shook her head, trying to clear it of mental static. Her stomach twisted, and she retched one last time, next to the door.

Audrey straightened, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, shut her eyes and took a last breath of the clean air. Dad, Momma, she managed to think through the internal fireworks, and fumbled for the knob. A twist, two steps, and Audrey opened her eyes.

The door slammed shut behind her.

Audrey Stein had arrived.

TO BE CONTINUED

/\/\/\

A/N: Phew. Joey Drew Studios has a bit of a hold on our girl. If it's that bad outside - what's it like indoors?

In original drafts of this story, I had Audrey wake up alone to an empty house, stranded for three days with no food or human contact before she decided to act. Yeah. Needless to say, didn't roll with that round of edits. On the plus side, Irene, our tough-as-nails grandma! On the downside, still no Henry and Linda.

Don't worry, you'll see them (?) soon enough.

Once again, please read & review, if you feel so inclined! Here for criticism. Gotta get these creative muscles back in shape. I appreciate you guys so much!

Godspeed, as always ;)

-Sam