Why is Love so Hard? |BENDY X HENRY| (OLD)

The Reel End.

Me and Sammy make a wild dash down the hallways, breathing hard as we careen around corners in sliding scrambles. Lost Ones behind us throw themselves with disturbing desperation at our heels.

Ahead, a dimly lit doorway looms like the maw of a hungry beast, and we pump our legs harder. One of the Lost Ones catches Sammy by the ankle and he yells out as he's sent pitching forward in the darkness, losing all control.

I curse, skidding to a stop. My eyes scan the black hall for any sign of him.

There! An arm lurches out of an inky mass of bodies, and I wade hastily over to it. Grabbing hold of his arm, I wrench him free after a few attempts. A few hands cling lacklusterly to his shirt and pants as I nearly drag him through the gate.

There's no time to close the gate, I realise, gazing out at the towering wall of bodies scrambling our way. Their toothless maws gnash with threat as I topple a tower of crates to barricade the doorway.

Sammy curls into himself atop one of the crates, out of breath and spattered in gooey ink. His back spasms with inaudible breaths as I approach.

"Sammy?" I say.

I extend my hand to his back, but he jerks wildly away. He mutters something to himself, slowly at first, his words gradually picking up speed until they're like the quiet hum of a generator.

"...betrayed... abandoned..." he murmurs.

I frown. "Sammy, you're not making any sense."

"I trusted you! I gave you everything!" He says, and I have no problem hearing him this time. Ferocity lights his ink smeared eyes as he unfurls, though his back continues to short circuit with each strangled exhale. "And you left me to rot! Why? Why?!"

The axe is snatched from my hands, and I only have time to duck out of the way before the box behind me is smashed to splinters.

"Oh god, not again," at this point the sickening familiarity of this all has sunken in. "You've got to snap out of it!" I say.

Shards of wood fly, chasing behind me as I steadily retreat from the path of the swinging blade. Hands erupt out between boxes, groping blindly for victims. I yank my arm away as one catches hold, too busy scrambling away from the axe wielding maniac to keep track of it all.

"I'm going to cut that smile right off your face!" The voice was too close for comfort, and so was the blade as I felt wetness slither down the bridge of my nose.

At the next swing I catch hold of the hilt. Sammy tries to pull away, but I hold tight even as he swings it wildly. He screams in aggravation. "He said he'd save me! He said he'd set me free!"

"He lied, Sammy!" I say, keeping my grip firm as I try to free him from whatever drowning in bodies had triggered. It couldn't have been a pleasant memory.

The cultist bent my arm painfully and the wooden shaft hit my chest as I was forced against the wall. Dozens of groping hands anchor me to the barricade on impact. I began to panic. "Sammy, it doesn't have to end like this, we can-"

"Well, I'm going to free you now," he says, while raising the axe above his head. "Free your head, right from your body-!"

A sickening crunch broke the air.

...Was I dead? My heart thundered in my chest. Sensation slowly began to trickle back into focus and I became aware of the gooey hands once more. But this brought only another question.

Why wasn't I dead?

I cracked an eye open. The blade of the axe was mere millimetres from my face, Sammy still gripping it in a wild passion. But he had stopped, and was now staring with a gaunt horror at the towering blockade of crates behind me. And then it dawned on me what the cracking was.