The Beast Made of Ink

Chapter 20: Sammy's Mistakes (Part 2)

-Sammy's P.O.V.-

After that nights horrific events, I had become an orphan. To my dismay, the man who had killed my parents was able to get away. A small part of me wanted to be thankful for Mister's quick escape since he was my friend for so long, but a larger part of me wanted him to be shot down dead for ruining my perfect and happy life that I had with both of my loving parents.

Because of my parents deaths, the police had decided to move me in with a family friend. He had piercing silver eyes that seemed to have more sclera than iris. He had a large nose and a thin mustache along with crew cut brown hair. Small and nearly nonexistent wrinkles adjourned his forehead and he had pencil thin eyebrows. He looked to be in his early 20's.

I later learned that this man's name was Joey Drew.

When I was little, Joey was very nice. He had a cartoon studio that he'd allow me to visit quite often. However, I always felt like something was off with Joey, something was... Extremely abnormal. He was kind, but he never seemed like he was capable of having empathy for anyone, no matter the situation. Nobody else but me could truly notice this, after all I lived with the guy.

As I got older, Joey got colder. By 1952, at the age of 13, I had begun to work at Joey Drew's Animation Studio, where they not only made animations, but cartoons as well. It was at that studio in which I had discovered my love for music. I got private lessons, and finally, at the age of 15, Joey made me his music director. I was overjoyed! Not to mention, I took my work very seriously!

After my promotion, Joey and I started talking more. We'd even eat meals together at home. Given, the plates of food that he'd make for me practically looked like burnt ink, but it was edible nonetheless. We'd go see movies together, and sometimes go drinking together. However, despite all that we did with one another, our relationship was always just so stiff and formal. Becoming closer with Joey... This was my 8th mistake.

It was in 1959 that I knew something was terribly wrong. I had stopped growing. My mind was always growing, but my body... It hadn't grown since I was 15. I had baby fat on my face still and I was kept at a staggering 5'4. I had no muscles or facial hair, and I still weighed less than 100 pounds. When I decided to approach Joey about this, concern evident across my features, the man ended up showing me something... extraordinary.

It was a small and dimly lit wooden room in his studio just like any other. However, this room was not like any other.

There were two tables back to back with each other off to the side of the wall that was filled to the brim with test tubes, beakers, beaker racks, magnifying glasses, prongs, a Bunsen burner, and 3 microscopes along with some lamps. To the right of the door was a bookshelf that was stuffed to the brim with books at the bottom, and above it were liquids and well preserved organs in containers with labels on each one telling you what it was. The most shocking parts of the room though was both the ginormous hand drawn pentagram in the center of the room, and the chained cuffs in the corner that had pliers, candles, whips, lighters, hammers, screwdrivers, nails, etc. to the side of the said chains. My jaw dropped as my eyes shot over at Joey whose own eyes were as lifeless as can be. It was like... The room didn't bother him. He was emotionless.

"What... What the hell's wrong with you!?" I screeched at him. He just looked over at me with those dead silver eyes, then spoke.

"Nothing is wrong with me. What is wrong is society"

"What in the name of God are you talking about Mr. Drew!?" By my response, Joey chuckled a very fake laugh as he walked over to one of the tables, then began to mix liquids together as he continued talking to me from behind.