Just a Happy Ending

The Descent

Norman sat against the wall. His legs were drawn up as close to his chest as possible. One arm hugged his knees, the other held the side of his head, the side that still leaked from Sammy's furious scythe blade. His speaker was silent. He honestly wasn't sure if it could make any more sound after he rattled the walls with that scream; the scream that he could only now describe as hellish. It made sense, considering he was fairly certain he'd let the combined wails of despair from the Puddles mingle with his own. His light didn't shine, as it was shuttered closed.

An uncaring cold crept up his limbs, the pain from his wounded head the only reminder that he could feel anything besides the unending fear. Even the moment of sympathy when Sammy had slammed his fist against the wall, breaking two fingers and cutting a third deeply enough to cause his ink to drip to the floor, was gone. The inked musician was now kneeling in a fetal position, hugging himself and his wounded hand, silently letting watery tears drip down his face. He was letting the claws of regret drag him under, his ink body running and losing its shape.

Bendy had soaked Henry's body with tears and ink, utterly lost in despair. The human's skin had long since gone cold and ashen, a stark contrast to Bendy's, which was vibrant and shiny with the warm light in his chest. He'd already tried to split the soul piece he had to bring Henry back, but there was no way to do that without leaving the both of them debilitated. Not to mention it hurt like a serrated dagger was being driven through every nerve. The thought that Bendy had so carelessly subjected Henry to that pain renewed his despair.

A voice in Bendy's mind told him he shouldn't even be alive. He'd stolen Henry's life. He was no better than Joey.

Selfish. Weak. Alone. The one person he cared about, dead because of him.

Joey had been right. He was useless.

A mistake.

And yet...

Another voice told him not to give up. It provided no reason, but the specks of hope ghosting the edges of Bendy's mind kept sticking around, kept telling him to press on. It dried up his tears and gently pushed him to his feet.

"D...devil?" Norman coughed, "Wh...what-at-at do ya think-k-k you're... doin'?" His speaker was jammed with static, so much that his words were barely coherent.

"I'll tell you what he's doing," Sammy hissed, his voice wavering and mingling with the Well, "He's letting us descend into hopelessness until summoning his lord to finish us off."

"Shut up, Sammy," Norman snapped.

Sammy's dripping, inked-out face twisted around as his hands threatened to summon his scythe, "Should I aim for your throat next?"

"Stop it!" Bendy's outburst silenced the two, "You're so caught up in wanting something to blame? Well, blame me! But you're not the only ones who lost him! You might have lost a friend, but that's my creator!" His voice dropped and he hung his head, "Ever since I came from that ink-forsaken Machine, I've been used and lied to, and the one person, the only person who offered me light and warmth is dead because of me!"

Tears began to threaten Bendy's eyes, "H-he's gone... and I'm still alive, living on a stolen piece of him I now know he would have given. I thought... he was just another liar, but I was wrong, and now we're all paying for it."

"If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened!" Sammy lifted an emaciated, melting arm to Bendy, "You false god!"