Wonders of Heresy (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

6- Millennia

Author's Note: The art for this chapter is by MetallicArtist on Tumblr.

"I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land." - Psalm 143:6

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"I...I don't remember..."

"...I don't know."

"..."

These were the basic iterations of Sammy's only three answers for a very long while. Why was "Sammy Lawrence" written all over the music department? Why didn't he recognize it as his name before? And most terribly, who did he used to be? ...and so on. It seemed maybe she had more intuition of his identity than he, until-

"What...happened to you?"

At this point, it seemed like a failing interview, a list that had to keep going on and on even if they both suffered. This question felt so...rude; even though it was the one that directly impacted her the most- that her life was surrounded by the mysteries of the ink- it seemed cruel to say. She regretted doing so despite how much it meant to her. It wasn't surprising when the tall figure on the other side of the table was utterly wordless once again, but it formed a great drop in her stomach to see his body was speaking for him.

It was like when she first called him by his name; he started shaking and his shoulders lurched towards the sides of his head. She was just about to apologize- assuming he was in great distress from not being able to answer- when he began to utter:

"The ink...it...took us. We had no choice."

One hand moved to hold his tired head while the other rested on the table to show him its wrist. The way he slumped was an unwritten story of pain, indescribable pain- a life of nothing but the darkness around them. Even as this new position showed the profile of her companion once again, she couldn't see any features beyond his moving lips- and that barely so.

"It..." She was beside herself trying to decipher his riddle. "It-...took you?" She leaned over the table in astonishment. "You...were you..." She swallowed so she could spit out the incredible. "...human?"

The wisp of vision she had of his face was enough to show his swift displeasure, his gritting teeth. It scared her all the same, but he was holding back the hottest of his fury at her ignorance.

"Yes."

Even though she suspected as much, its confirmation was enough to render her limp, sloping back into her chair breathlessly.

Then, as she had dreaded before, he began to squeeze the fingers near his mask into a fist, shakes of trauma turning into that of incense. He tried to remember, he tried, but all he saw was-

Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink. Ink.

A groan in agony that vibrated from his chest.

A touch on his hand.

"...That's...that's enough for now." It'd be a fib to say she wasn't utterly exhausted herself in this moment, and so she hoped her grip would remind him there was a world outside of memory...no matter how his skin felt. It lingered with her how little she cared in this moment despite knowing what he was made of. She blinked down at their hands and exhaled.

"Let's give you a break from all this. I shouldn't have pushed you."

Sammy breathed in sharply as he emerged to the surface of reality; the sliver of his face disappeared, replaced by the false one of his master so he may have the power to look at her as she possessed him.