Bendy and the Ink Machine: Pallette of life. (Volume 1)

— Dad? Is something wrong? — No, honey, it's okay. Simply… I received a letter. — A letter? From whom? — From an old friend of mine…

***

      Sudden awakening is accompanied by a sharp headache, which caused me to close my eyes. It was like being crushed by a stone. I haven't felt this bad since I... ah, since when? And, why do I have a headache at all? «What… What happened?»       When I opened my eyes again, I saw something black in front of me. For a second I thought I hadn't opened them, but then I realized I was looking at my hands.… Look at your black hands. — What… What is it?! — I abruptly assume a sitting position, without taking my eyes off my hands, which begin to shake. I am overwhelmed with trembling. — My hands… What's wrong with them?! Why are they-       Before I finished, I noticed that I looked very different myself. It was as if I had been drawn on yellow, old paper and made voluminous. I automatically wanted to find the mirror that was in my room… — What?... Where am I? But the main problem is that I don't recognize my room. I... I can't even remember my room! I can't remember my home... I just, I... don't know where I am. Around me, the walls are yellow, as if painted, like me, looking very old, in fact, like the floor. It's not even a room, but a long corridor leading to some room. Various posters hang all along the corridor. But perhaps the most unusual thing is that something black is dripping from the ceiling... Black, like my hands. I wanted to touch the puddle that had formed on the floor, but for some reason I immediately pulled my hand away as soon as there were a couple of centimeters left. «What is this place? How did I end up here?»       Suddenly, I found a door behind me with the inscription "Exit". Through the crack you can see the light - the light of the exterior. I jumped up and grabbed the handle, pulled, but it was locked. I pulled again, then again. I tried to pull harder, trying to open this door, but it treacherously wouldn't budge. I began to panic. I started banging my fists on the door and shouting, hoping that someone outside would hear me. But no one answered me. «What is this place? Why is the door locked? What am I even doing here? Who... Who am I?»       It's like a thick and dark fog in my head. For some reason, I can't remember how I got here, or why I decided to come here, or who I am...

Rosalia...

      Something echoed in my head. I clutched my head, as if afraid that this voice might slip out and disappear into thin air. In addition, an unpleasant pulsation began to hit the hammer directly on the head. And although it's unpleasant, but... I'm starting to remember something. «Rosalia... I'm Rosalia Stein.»       The headache was getting worse by the second. But I still keep trying to remember something. Remember yourself. I was able to grasp a thin thread, and I'm not going to lose it so easily. I hear someone calling me. — Rosalia, dear, can you take Olivia to the dance after school? — Of course, Mom. I'm just having my lunch break. — Sis, aren't we going to eat that pistachio ice cream? You promised that you would buy me! — Of course I will, my bud, but only after dancing, okay)? — Hooray! — Okay, I ran to work, otherwise I'll miss the bus... — Exactly... I am Rosalia Stein, 35 years old, originally from Pasadena... I work as a decorator in the theater... I have a mother - Linda - and a younger sister - Olivia... — the memories suddenly stopped abruptly, as if they had never existed, and a void appeared in my head again. Even though the thread broke, but even so, I was able to remember something - to remember who I am.       My gaze fell again on my hands... black, glossy, as if covered with some kind of black slime. They are completely black, almost to the shoulders. I leaned my palms against the wall and rubbed against it, trying to wipe them off. However, nothing was wiped off, not even any traces on the wall remained. I decided to rub harder, but I only made it more unpleasant for myself. It's like I've rubbed my skin. If my hands were ordinary, my palms would immediately turn pink, even slightly red from rubbing. «What, what's wrong with my hands?!»       Really, my hands are not dirty, but have become like this? And anyway, why do I look different? I'm like… Not human. «No! No, it's not! This can't be happening. None of this can be true…»       I looked at the poster hanging next to me. It depicts someone's body, but instead of a head there is an inscription: — Bendy in... The Dancing Demon…

Bendy?...

      Suddenly, my head felt like it was being squeezed from two sides. I clutched at it in fear. The pain is so unbearable, even my legs gave way and I unsuccessfully sat on the floor. These are not the feelings that were before. Now it's like... someone else has settled in my mind and is whispering something to me. That strange, frighteningly unintelligible whisper. It's like a thousand people are whispering right in my ear, trying to convey something. This kind of thing began to happen to me only after… — No... P-please… Enough!       The whispering does not stop, but now moments began to appear before my eyes: a strange noise, then a crash, and a black liquid falls on my face, piercing my left eye. It was at this moment that my eye began to hurt like hell, as if I was experiencing everything the same as it was then again… When? — Please… That's enough…       And then, as if by a click, everything stopped. No whispers, no pain. As if nothing had happened. For a second, I even thought that I really imagined it all and it was just a nightmare… Or maybe it's all one nightmare? «That's right, it's just a dream! A terrible dream that I have to wake up from.»       I pinched my left cheek hard, but nothing changed. I pinched several times, stretched both cheeks in different directions. But instead of waking up, I got only an unpleasant pain. The realization that I was still awake made me even more tense. In my head, I remembered again those terrible moments that I think I saw before. Because, remembering, I unconsciously shudder, as if I saw something terrible in front of me. I gently touched my left eye and felt the scar that almost horizontally "cuts" my left eye from eyebrow to cheek. «So that's why I can't see very well. My eye… He can't see anything. But, because of what?»       I got up, but I'm afraid to raise my head. I'm scared at the thought that I can experience all this horror again, which only I see and hear. But... this will sound strange, but it seems to me that someone told me to always walk with my head held high, not afraid to face fear. Someone very important to me, but who? «M? What's it?»       For some reason, I involuntarily grabbed my left hand with my right hand, or rather, something that was put on my hand in the area of the hand. Due to the fact that this "something" is also completely black, I didn't notice it before. But after looking closely and feeling, I realized… It's a watch. — Dad... please don't leave! — I'm sorry, Rosie, but I have to help those who need help. — ...you're coming back, aren't you?" — ... — Promise me that you will come back, Dad! — Here, put them on. — What?… But, it's Grandpa's watch! They're very important to you, Dad! — That's why I want you to save them until I get back, Rosie. This will be our thread that binds our promise. I promise - I'll come back to you and mom)… — Dad... The watch, my dad... Henry Stein. For some reason, I suddenly felt so sad and hurt inside, as if I had been pierced through with a blunt knife. If his watch is on my hand… Didn't Father come back to us? «No… This can't be happening. He's back… Is that right? But, then why does it hurt so much in my chest?»       My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp sound resembling the creaking of boards. It came from somewhere in the depths of this place... I don't want to believe in everything that is happening. But whatever this place is, it's real. As strange as it may sound, but unfortunately, this is not a nightmare from which you can wake up. And if I ended up here, then it must mean something. Maybe there is something here that will help me... At least, that's what I think. «There is no point in standing here. Maybe there is another way out here?»       And I took a step towards the unknown. The old boards creak terribly under my feet, as if they are about to break. I decided to take another look at the hanging posters. This time, nothing like that happened to me. However, somewhere deep inside I understood that somewhere I had already seen similar posters. Losing memories… It's probably even worse than death itself. It's like, you understand that a person. But you don't know who you are. You're just wandering around, hoping to remember at least some tiny detail, to grab a transparent thread. And in the end, you don't notice how time flies by.       At the top, at the end of the corridor, there is a sign with the inscription "Welcome". I wonder if this is addressed to me personally, or was someone else here before me? Or maybe there is someone else here? After all, noises cannot appear by themselves just like that. However, this inscription made me laugh. — "Welcome" to where?       I found myself in a huge room resembling a small lounge, or... I don't even know. All that is here is a small table, a few weak-looking chairs and a working record player that shows only an empty picture. For some reason, my feet tread so carefully by themselves, as if afraid to break this silence. But time spares no one, including this place. As soon as I took a couple of steps, an unpleasant creaking of old boards was heard throughout the hall. I was startled by surprise, and then immediately froze, listening. But I didn't hear anything. Only a slight hum from the working player. There's not a soul here... as if there shouldn't be at all. «I need to calm down. Was I such a coward?»       There are also two doors in this hall, and I decided to check the one closest to me. I tried the handle, but this door was also locked. — It's locked. Strange, — I tried to pull again, but nothing came out.       The strange thing is that the lighting is very dim here. There are no windows here, not even a small window. There is only one small chandelier for the whole room, located directly above the table, and several lights above a huge sign: three huge spinning reels - the largest one in the center - and in front of them a sign with the inscription "Joey Drew Studio". Joey Drew... «Why does it feel like I've heard it somewhere before?... And have you seen it?»       I tried to remember something and my head began to throb unpleasantly again. It was so unpleasant that I leaned against a nearby box. «Joey Drew... Who are you? How do I know you?»

"...from my old friend..."

— You... They knew my father...

"I once worked with him in the same studio..."

— That's right. He was... An old friend of mine.

"Joey Drew Studio."

      The pain suddenly disappeared again. I've never been so stressed before. I feel like I ran a marathon, exactly on my head. — Damn it... I remember something, but I don't fully understand it. But... I've definitely heard that name from someone. And, apparently, I even talked to this Joey Drew.       Someone's blurry image still looms before my eyes, which I can't remember so much. But it's pointless to think about it now. At least I won't remember anything, and at most I'll get another headache.       When I felt completely better, I began to inspect the room further. I am becoming more and more convinced that this place is not the real world in which I live. As strange as it may sound, but the very appearance of this place, and the way I look, suggests that this is a completely different world. If you tell someone, no one will believe you. «Everything here looks so drawn, I would even say cartoon... Sounds silly.»       In the far corner of the hall there are a couple of tables, at which, apparently, the studio staff worked. Everything looks the same old and fragile in appearance. And it's scary to touch - I touch it, and everything will immediately fall apart. And when I approached the projector, I met the gaze of a pair of black, large eyes - the eyes of a huge cardboard box. I was startled, but I didn't scream. — Damn, I was scared of some cardboard... — if it weren't for this cardboard figure almost as tall as me, I wouldn't be scared. And if you compare me to a cardboard box, then I'm pretty tall.       A huge cardboard box of an unusual black creature with a white face, resembling a demon, but without a tail. Although, if you look closely, he looks even cute. It is unlikely that a real demon would wear white gloves, a white bow and black patent leather shoes. — And you're pretty cute, buddy). You have such a big smile, how do you not get tired of smiling?       And here it is again... It feels like I've seen him before and said the same thing... — Dad! And who are you drawing? — Oh, Rosie. His name is Bendy - he is a cheerful, dancing demon. — A demon? Means... Is he evil? — No, no, he's a good guy! Do you see how wide and joyfully he smiles? Would someone bad smile as widely and sincerely? Bendy is a mischievous child who, like one little girl, needs attention). He, like you, does not like to sit in one place for a long time. — Hee-hee! He really has a big smile. How does he not get tired of smiling all the time? — Well, if life is full of joy, love and happiness, why not smile?...       This time, the throbbing in my head wasn't so unpleasant. Either I'm already getting used to it, or the memory wasn't that bad... Painful? — So you're the Bendy... Well, that's right, — I gently touched my fingers, black like his body, as if afraid that from the slightest touch he could instantly fall apart. — Father... He painted you. He created you.       Slowly, but surely. My memories are with me, they are just hidden under a thick black veil, which, like resin, plunges me deeper and deeper into the very abyss. But I'm not one of those who just give up. I am... I'm feeling it.       Gathering my thoughts, I continued on my way. I checked the second door next to the cardboard and... It was also locked. One can't help but get the feeling that I was initially not allowed to go there. I didn't even try to pull harder. It is clear that I will not be allowed there. «Although, what was to be expected? There's no one here. Why should the doors be open?»       But after my own question, I remembered strange creaks from the depths of the building and the projector working behind me. The place is strange, but this does not mean that there is something paranormal here. He didn't turn on himself, did he?... «We must be on our guard.»       I noticed that there are two ways out of this hall, not counting the corridor: one to the right, the other to the left. Standing in the center of the hall, I began to look into both aisles, trying to see something in them... Apart from the dead silence, I can't notice anything. I don't trust any of these passages. But, no matter how you turn it, you still have to check both ways. But we must first decide which one to go to first. «Damn, why is everything so complicated?»       I looked at the left aisle, next to which the box I was leaning on is located. For some reason, it seems to me as if... I don't know. It's a strange feeling. To describe it in simple words, the longer I look into this passage, the more it begins to seem to me that it "calls" me. Something invisible is trying to grab me by my hands and pull me towards it... From my own terrible thoughts, I jerked. «Stop it, Rosalia! Now is not the right time to think about this.»       Without hesitation, I decided to leave the left corridor for later, and so I went to the right. At the end of the corridor, I was greeted by another poster, which I had already seen at the beginning. The corridor itself wasn't that big. After a few steps, I found myself in a small room, from where another passage leads. But the first thing I saw was a lonely standing table and a similar chair next to it. There is another familiar smiling cardboard box next to me. But, unlike the tables in the hall, there are two sheets with sketches: on one different movements of Bendy, and on the second only his cute face. But the distinguishing feature is that he does not smile, but "talks". A small piece of paper is glued next to it, on which only one word is written in large letters - "NO". — Heh, it looks funny. If only I could understand what this "NO" means.       Here in the lower corner of the table I noticed some kind of inscription. Looking closer, I couldn't believe my eyes. — "Henry Stein"... So it is... Was it Dad's desk?       I touched the inscription, probably written by my father. And the next moment I began to see some moments in front of me again, but... It seems like these are not my memories. And the memories... Father. I see him sitting in his usual position, slightly sideways, with his right leg crossed over the other and sometimes biting the tip of his pencil. —...Well, you're ready, baby). I'm sure you'll make a lot of people happy in the future. I really want Rosalia to see you. I'm sure she would have liked you very much...       The memories disappeared, leaving behind only something pleasant... Something very warm, something I haven't felt for so long. — It turns out that this is where you created Bendy...       I traced the inscription again, hoping to feel my father's warmth again. But I just felt a wooden, slightly rough surface. And even for a moment I was able to "see" him again, for some reason I immediately felt sad. «Why did the fact that I saw him make me feel so... Empty?»       I decided to try to remember something about my father. I sat down on his chair, staring intently at the floor. Father... Just saying this word, it immediately feels good to me, and at the same time it hurts. And this pain is very unpleasant. So much so that I want to forget, lose... Lose it? «I lost... Something very important. Lost it... Father.»       In the next second, various images began to flash through my head, accompanied by numerous voices. I grabbed my head because it became unbearable. It is unbearable to listen to what is repeated many times - the father has disappeared. He disappeared from our lives as if he had never existed. The last time I saw his face, his warm smile, was when he left the house. Gone... And he didn't come back.

Why? Why did you leave us?!

— No! — I jumped up abruptly, so much so that I almost dropped my chair. At the same moment, the voices subsided and disappeared altogether, as if they had never existed at all.       My heart is trying to jump out of my chest. My rapid breathing made it unusually noisy. I covered my mouth, trying to calm down a little. A very unpleasant lump got stuck in my throat. I want to cry, but for some reason I can't do it. But what I remembered was a real painful blow for me. — Father... Gone...       Various questions began to spin in my head like a hurricane. I tried to remember something else in order to understand the reason, but nothing happened. However, there is no point in trying to remember anything else now. Maybe if I get out of this place, everything will go back to normal. I patted my cheeks in order to collect myself and finally come to my senses. «Pull yourself together, rag!»       Having completely gathered my courage, I headed to another room, to which, most likely, this corridor led. A huge room in which various posters are also hanging, as well as a huge number of tables already familiar to me. Tables for animation. — My father used to be an animator, — remembering past moments, I went down to the tables themselves, on which the sheets are lying. Bendy is depicted on each of the leaves, but in different poses. — That's why I got a passion for drawing, otherwise I wouldn't have become a decorator... Why did the father quit this job?       Having asked myself this question, I immediately tried to remember the answer to it. But, either the answer is still under a dark fog, or my father himself did not give me an answer to this question. But it would be strange that I, my own daughter, would not ask about such a thing?... Okay. That's later. — And yet, I can't help but be touched by this character, — I said, approaching one of the tables, which seems to stand out from the rest. Well, either the chandelier hanging over it creates a similar effect. — Hm... If you think about it, then we really are somewhat similar).       As if dissatisfied with something, little Bendy looks somewhere. It's funny, but for some reason I thought that he was dissatisfied with some kind of work. Or so I was influenced by the poster hanging over the table: "Work hard, work happy." A large sheet of slang covers Bendy's face, and his smile was on the sheet itself. It's like he's hiding something under that fake smile. «I don't like this poster.»       If you look at it that way, there are a lot of tables here. Perhaps this studio was huge. Involuntarily I wanted to remember something else about Joey Drew's studio, but either I hadn't heard much about it, or I wasn't interested in this. Or maybe I just can't remember yet. It's amazing that I was able to remember anything at all in this short period of time. And so, I didn't find anything else remarkable here, at least there is no other way out. At most, there is still a small room here... I don't even know which is weirder - the fact that there is a toilet in this room, or the fact that it has no door, but is boarded up?... And another cardboard box is inside. However, such a picture even made me laugh. — I'm sorry, am I interrupting? I joked, saying this to the cardboard. — Heh, they lived... I'm already talking to the cartons. Yes, bud... dy...       A slight shiver went through me. Although I have forgotten almost all my memories, but I remember for sure that a few seconds ago I was looking at a dissatisfied Bendy drawn by something, and now I see a joyful Bendy in front of me, as if falling. In the same place where there was a disgruntled… Goosebumps immediately ran through my body. For a second, I even forgot how to breathe. «This... Not happening...»       I began to look around. Perhaps someone could have played a very cruel joke on me and changed the picture to another one while I was talking to the cardboard. On the other hand, there is no one here - who could change the drawing so quickly? I decided to look around under all the tables, but I found nothing or no one. When I looked at that drawing again, what I saw struck and horrified me even more. This time, I see Bendy running in front of me, as if he was afraid of something. How am I now… This place makes me uneasy. «We need to find a way out as soon as possible and get out of here.»       And without a second's hesitation, I immediately walked away, as far away from here as possible. This place… It's mysterious. The mystery can be different, but in this case it is frightening. I do not know what will happen to me next. The scariest thing that awaits me ahead is the unknown.       Once back in the hall, I stopped by the box in order to catch my breath and calm down a little. This is the place... It's maddening. When I remember something, it brings pain. Some strange voices are following me. In addition, what seems nice and harmless may turn out to be something frightening and dangerous. It seems like there is no place anywhere where I will feel safe. Although I was able to calm down a little, but looking into the next corridor, I realized that the most dangerous thing was waiting for me ahead. How to say it... My gut tells me. Or fear. «I really don't want to go there...»       I have nowhere else to go, so I went on, to the last corridor - to the last place where I hope I can find a way out. But before that, next to another large and strange wardrobe, I noticed another door. — Maybe this time? — I pulled the handle in hope and... — Eh... Nothing. Should I have expected something else?       Resigned, I finally moved on. And the first thing I saw were the signs on which, apparently, the premises that are here are written. Apparently, I was in the department of artists - which, in fact, is logical. But the following index puzzled me a little. — An ink machine?... For some reason, when I said it out loud, an unpleasant chill ran through my body. As if warning about something. And it doesn't make me feel any better. «Is this some kind of ink production device?... Interesting. Scary, but interesting.»       The last two signs say "theater" and "art room". Well, maybe that's where I can find a way out. When I turned to go further, I didn't even have time to take a step, as I froze again. And again from horror. For a moment, I even imagined something that I would rather not think about at all.       Someone wrote on the whole wall - "Dreams come true." There is nothing creepy about the message itself - although it clearly carries some meaning in itself - but the very sight of how it is written and who could have written it scares me. I won't hide it - I'm really scared. I don't know how to react to this anymore. «This is strange... It seems like nothing remarkable. But, for some reason, it seems to me that these words have great value.»       I approached the inscription in order to understand what it was written with. Here, too, a small puddle formed on the floor, which was at the very beginning. Then I was afraid to touch, and now I'm not going to. I crouched down in front of her and began to sniff. Perhaps I could have guessed earlier, but given the place I got to and what kind of car is here, I immediately understood: — Ink... So it's written in ink? — I immediately looked up at the inscription. This discovery alarmed me even more. It would seem - ordinary ink, with which we all write with a pen. But this ink doesn't seem ordinary to me... I looked at my hands, which started to tremble slightly from the realization. Actually, just like me. «So my hands are covered in ink?... no. If it had been ordinary ink, it would have worn off a little. And these... Or else... Or my hands... Ink?»       Such thoughts made me feel sick, so much so that my legs almost buckled. But this time I was able to resist, although I'm still shaking like an aspen leaf in the wind. Of course, I guessed that I didn't look normal. But to consist of something else... I can't even cause a nauseating reaction! I can't do what anyone would do in my place! «Am I... human?»       ...Suddenly, as if out of thin air, a melody appeared. At first I thought it was my imagination, considering the state I'm in now, but after listening, I realized that music was playing somewhere. So, if there is music playing somewhere, there is still someone here!       Without thinking, I immediately ran towards the source of the melody. I didn't have to look for a long time: through the cracks of one of the doors, which is located almost in the center of the corridor, a light is visible. There's someone there! — Hey! — I immediately ran to the door and wanted to open it, but for some reason it turned out to be locked. — Hey! Is there someone there? Please open the door!       The next moment, the music stopped and the lights went out. I waited, thinking that they would open the door for me now, but... Nothing. There wasn't even any response. I don't hear a single rustle. — Please open the door for me! I really need your help! — I knocked, quite insistently. — Please help me! I do not know where I am and where I got to! I'm all alone here!... I thought earlier. Please! I know there's someone there!... Isn't that right?... Is there really someone there?... — my voice faltered. I can't believe it's my voice. — I don't think so, do I?… I'm not crazy, am I?… Please…       I fell to my knees, right in front of the door. I want to cry, but I can't even do it. There's nothing I can do. I'm just helpless, lost… It's not even clear what, just wandering in an unknown place. I…

«Who am I?»

      Click. The door that was closed suddenly opened slightly. Out of surprise, I crawled to the side, not taking my eyes off the place from which someone should come out. At first, a small, like a child's, white glove appeared. After her, a black head with small horns and a white face came out. And at the same moment I was confronted with two oval, triangular cutouts, black, like the whole body - like those ink - frightened eyes.

...Bendy?...