My candle light

Chapter 1, POV: Amber

Most stories start with something normal don't you think? A normal life, even if it isn't exactly "normal." Then it leads into a catastrophe, one that's supposed to break the normal, make it unusual. But my story doesn't start there. My story begins only where I remember...it begins after this so called "catastrophe." 

Black was all I could see. Dead silence was all I could hear. Memories...faint memories of who I once was...and what had happened. Death. I remember now. Not for me, no, I was very much alive. Everyone else was gone. I remember running...but I don't remember where. Ink...I recall an inky hand reaching out to me. "I can help you" it said. "Trust me." I had no choice. My mind seemed to make itself up when I felt myself reaching out as well. I don't know much after that...it's all a haze of...well, ink. 

Waking up for the who knows how many times, I was greeted with the same haze of no memory, and the same sickness in my stomach. I flopped over onto my side throwing up what looked to be a shit ton of ink. It burned the back of my throat coming up, and caused me to gasp out for air. My ears began ringing from the pain and I shuddered, feeling my senses slowly return to me. I always seemed to wake up in a different location every time. Last time I woke up by two Little Miracle Stations, and a tape player that was broken. Yes...it's all coming back to me now. This time however was different.

 Sitting up I noticed how dark it was in the room. Wait...no...it wasn't a room, but a maze of hallways instead. My vision finally adjusted, and I could see the area in greater detail. There were posters littered across the walls, I wasn't used to seeing so many in one place. Most of them were ink stained, some were peeling at the corners. I could also hear a familiar drip of ink coming from the ceiling above me. My mind always tuned out the sounds of the dripping, so I never really noticed it.  I raised my arm to scratch the back of my head when I noticed a throbbing pain in one of them. Wincing, I examined a large gash on my arm. Of course. By now, waking up with cuts, scrapes and other injuries was almost considered normal. This place however is anything but...so I don't know what's normal or not anymore.

I shakily stood up and used a nearby wall for support to stand. I must've consumed a hell of a lot of ink, because I left a large streak of it along the peeling wallpaper. It always seemed to leak from my fingers...somehow. So much was rushing through my mind at once, my memory coming back slowly. That's right...the hallucinations. The ones that plunged me into darkness...wrapped me in whispers and silent screaming. The ones that took control of my body...

"Kayla." I rasped quietly. My mind is finally back on track. I still need to find her. Even though Kayla was one of the many workers who disappeared, part of me believes she might still be alive somewhere. That animator was tough. Nobody would fuck with her, if they tried they'd be dead meat. I've seen it for myself...I've watched her so much over the years. It's...funny how much feelings can soften a person's heart...even through the hardened shell that overworking created.

Slowly beginning to walk again, I first needed to locate where I was. I know this studio like the back of my hand, so once I learn my location, finding my way back to the hideout would be easy. My hideout is a storage place hidden in Heavenly Toys. A small trapdoor under a sofa. I had found that place when running away. A place to hide...A place to stay safe...

Turning a corner I noticed a familiar message I had left for myself. It was on the floor, and it read "THE 19TH MARKING ON LEVEL 6." This was one I wrote a few days ago, while gathering ink for my barrels back at the hideout. Luckily the lift wasn't too far away from here, and from there I could get back home. Well, I'd like to say "home," but in reality I knew that it wasn't really my home. In fact...I couldn't even remember my home, where I lived...what it even looked like. Only this hell hole in which I worked for years before getting imprisoned in it. I have no idea how long I've even been here for. Not once have I found another living soul, only lifeless forms of ink. Useless vessels...

I continued down a hallway for a while when I suddenly felt something grab onto my ankle. In a shock, I glanced down and noticed the slimy hands of a searcher gripping onto my leg, grabbing at the cuff of my shorts. I scoffed and reached into my overall pocket pulling out a jagged knife and with a swift swing of the arm, I sliced off its wrists from the rest of its body. The creature let out a strange gurgling sound and withered back. Its arms grew back slowly, the ink reforming itself disgustingly, and the hands still gripped onto my legs began to shrivel and turn to liquid. I put the knife away and sighed. "Don't you have anywhere better to go?" I asked it narrowing my eyes at the inky mess. It made another noise, and seconds later it sank into the floor. Away from me, good. I wasn't in the mood for dealing with any stray searchers. They were always such a handful. The adult ones especially, they always attacked anything that moved if they weren't tamed. The baby ones were....alright I suppose, I had a few that I kept hidden, they just never seemed to grow up for some reason.  There were two of them...but I never really gave them names. I was never really good with names..

After what seemed like hours, I finally rested my gaze upon the hunk of metal and gears in front of me. The lift was broken...of course it was. I tried pressing the button, but the cart never came up. I stood for a few minutes just in case. Nothing. "Of course this has to happen now...always something..." I cursed under my breath and kicked at the side of the metal frame. It made a sharp CLANG that echoed throughout the entire level. Noticing a door on my left, I knew I would have to be taking the long way home. I approached it and reached slowly for the brass handle, gently creaking the door open. It was loud. The loud noises I was making in the dead silence almost made me feel uneasy. I tried shaking the feeling away, and began to ascend the staircase in front of me. These stupid floorboards were so old and weak...one wrong step and you could fall three levels down. Happened to me once...I broke a leg. Or was it an arm..?

Anyways it didn't matter. What mattered now was sewing up the wound on my arm before it became infected- creating giant inky warts. They're a real pain to get rid of. Last time I had them I needed to carve them out with a piece of glass, and you'd better believe that hurt like hell. My mind wandered and I hummed subconsciously treading carefully up the stairs. The floorboards creaked under my feet, sounding like a groaning cry for help with all this silence. I didn't like it this quiet. It was almost...too quiet. As much as I enjoyed tranquility, this was a whole new level of silence. It was eerie...and my humming didn't help much. If anything, my voice made things worse with how broken it was from the countless nights I'd screamed in agony and pain until I passed out from exhaustion.

Not even a minute later I heard the dreadful uneasy sound of the ink webs drawing near from below. They weren't in my view just yet, I knew they were coming to get me. No...not yet. I wasn't ready yet...he couldn't see me like this. Horrid thoughts of death and suffering flooded my mind...and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the tips of the webs slowly seeping up from the bottom of the stairs. My fight or flight instincts kicked in, and I was dashing up the steps as fast as my legs could carry me. I couldn't afford to lose myself now...not when I was this close-!

Spotting a miracle station quickly, I ripped open the metal door and slammed it shut when I got inside. I panted heavily, Slowly backing against the door and sliding to the ground. I brought my knees to my face and hugged myself rocking gently back and forth. I shut my eyes, sharply taking a big breath in and holding it. "Not now...just wait for him to leave...he'll leave soon..." I replayed in my head countless times, desperately attempting to keep the ink from slipping back in my mind...getting me severely hurt or even killed...

I could feel the small space grow a chill, and that chill grew colder every second I spent curled in that tiny box. I could hear the splashes of inky footsteps creeping relentlessly towards me. Oxygen seemed nearly depleted from the room...the hair on the back of my neck stood up and my muscles tensed as I could hear his breathing on the other side of the door. I felt like a statue sitting there, and refused to move or breathe. Eventually I could faintly hear him leaving, the sploshes of ink on the floor growing quieter...and then silence again. I let out a huge sigh of relief, cautiously peeking out of the opening. Luckily...the webs had ceased. I huffed and slowly opened the door, my heart pumping rapidly from the adrenaline. 

"That could've been bad..." I mumbled to myself continuing my way up the stairs. Almost there...I was almost back to the hideout. I was tired...I felt empty without her. Kayla...I just want her back...and I pray she might still be ok out there....