BATIM: Bloody Heart REMAKE

Chapter 2

"So," I start, taking a glance up at the man next to me, "What exactly was that machine made for?" Before he could say anything, I took a guess, "Producing ink?" He shook his head, "Something like that. Again, you'll find out soon."

"How many things do I possibly have to find out on my own?" I asked, impatient.

"I want you to love your father for as long as you can," he said, "I know that you know that he's the cause of a lot of bad things that have happened here, but you still have some faith in him, correct?" Hesitantly, I nod.

"If I told you everything he has done now, there are two possibilities," He ran his fingers through his hair, trying his best to tame his slight curls. "One, you could not believe me and lose whatever trust you have in me. By then, going by what kind of person you are, you could wander off on your own by anger and get yourself into danger." He paused, "No offense."

My eyebrows twitched and in an irritated voice I said, "None taken." He let out a single "hah" before going back to explaining. "The second possibility is since you have lived with your father your whole life, you will lose trust in him too quickly, without getting to find out things yourself."

"You mean, you want me to interpret everything on my own?" I ask. A small smile, I found, crept upon his face, "Yeah, exactly." We walked a few more steps before he mockingly claimed, "I wish you acted that smart when we first met."

I stop in my tracks, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind. You never answered me earlier, about if you have been here before." I begin walking again, easily being able to speed walk to his side. "Not that I know of."

"What do you mean, not that you know of?" He asked, trying to open a locked door, as I stood behind him. "I found pictures of me inside the studio, but I don't have any recollection of being here. It wasn't that long ago either when the picture was taken. The date on the back said that it was only 4 years ago."

He went down the hall, and as usual, I followed him. By his pace, I could tell he was listening intently and trying to understand all I was saying. "No matter how hard I try to remember, I just," I sigh, "can't."

"I see," He said, following after me and sighing. "I'm sure you'll remember soon." His for-sure words comforted me a little. During these 4 years of my life, I've been straining myself to try to remember.

"It's weird though," I pause, "Every time I think about it, I feel... really sad." He turned around to face me. I bring a strand of my hair to go behind my ear as I smile softly to myself, "Like I lost someone very important to me." He stared at me for a few seconds before turning back around. Changing the subject, he said, "Up ahead."

"Hmm?" I made a small, questioning noise, "Prepare yourself. Your father is the cause of this. And whatever you do," he took a small step, "Don't blame yourself."

"Why would I?"

He kept silent, and I mumbled, "I'll find out soon."

He whipped around and started walking again, then stopped again.

Looking up, I gaped. My eyes widened unconsciously. There have been quite a few surprises today. "What is this?" I ask, my voice shaking. Lifelessly, a human was attached to a wooden casket, except without the lid so it was completely evident to the naked eye. The man's tall form was covered in black, his limps were either torn completely off or cut through. Like a cartoon, his eyes were X's, but if you look closely, you could clearly tell that his eyes were cut into that shape, possibly with a knife. It didn't help the situation that there wasn't a single spot of red anywhere.

The strong scent of ink dripping down his form made it abnormally obvious. "He's made of ink?"

I questioned aloud, my voice's pitch making it clear that I was frightened by the site.

"What's going through your head right now, Y/n?" He asked, trying to keep a calm demeanor, but failing miserably, as his voice had a sad tone over it. "I'm not sure." I honestly don't know. My heart feels heavy. So heavy, I feel like I might cry. I can't think of anything else except for how the people suffered so much. Is this what happened to them.

"Is it okay for me to bail out on this one?" I say, looking at the ground. I don't want to see that body anymore...

"Don't you think you should know what your father has been doing for all these years? Or everything that you forgot about? Or even what you forgot about m-"

I cut him off by saying, "I do, but I don't like sights like this." I try to ignore the body, which was right behind Ben. I stare at him directly, "I really do not like sights like this."

"Then let's go." He says, grabbing me by the forearm, and storming off.

After a short while, I claimed, "Today has been very eventful."

"For you," He says, "I see all of this stuff every day." I ponder, eyeing my surroundings and seeing the ink spread over the walls, dripping from the ceiling, and the messages spread widely. "You mean," I take my arm out of his hold and stand in front of him, looking at his eyes. "You live here?"

He kept a straight face, "Basically. But there's more stuff I haven't seen about this place."

"Like what?"

He stifled a chuckle, imagining my irritation, "You'll see." He said that with a wide grin, one of which felt nostalgic. Completely giving up on him, I claim, "Then I guess we best get moving then, right?" I smile in return, which took him aback. Apparently my reaction wasn't one he had hoped for.