Author's Note: This chapter's art is by Startistdoodles on Tumblr.
"Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them." - Ephesians 5:11
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"Really?"
He nodded in reply.
As they sat together on the edge of the musicians' platform, she turned her incredulous look at him into a blank stare to the floor that was almost wide enough to let in the certainty of his words.
Almost.
"Shit."
It was...a lot to take in all at once, to understate it. Heck, it was probably too much to take in over a whole lifetime, but here it was. And it was all her responsibility to accept- an unfeasible task; she needed help.
"Let me just- let me just try to catch your drift here," she started, raising her hands in a whirl about her head as if doing so could yank thoughts directly from her mind. He stayed silent and so she continued, closing her hands into fists even as they sat purposelessly by her chin.
"So that thing I saw when-..." She hesitated once she had to describe this putrid moment. "-When you had me tied up, was- was 'Bendy.'" It was pronounced as a statement, but she was obviously waiting for him to confirm it with a "yes" or "no." She didn't notice he was distracted by her fingers, the index and middle of each hand curling and uncurling twice to verbalize quotation marks.
It unnerved her, but she assumed his quiet meant his assurance.
"And," she began again with words so heavy, so alien and magic that not even her own tongue could help her make sense of it. "...It...he...kept me from dying."
Speech had come back to him. "Yes, dear sheep. He rained down upon you his life and his blessings so that you may remain as you are before me now."
And then there was a question that should have never been asked.
"Why?"
He turned away from her and tilted his chin upward, towards the cutout that peered at the two disciples from above. It smiled. It only ever smiled, but now it seemed to do so without secrecy, with concealment. Sammy's gaze lowered to the ground with his unanswered prayers.
"...I do not know."
For some reason, this was the hardest answer for her to swallow.
There was a pregnant and awkward pause between them as they both attempted to absorb what little, confusing information had been left at their feet. It filled the two of them with uncertainty of their lives, their purpose.
"When-..."
Sammy's knuckles clenched unconsciously.
"When will he let us go back?"
He had informed her just a moment ago in one fell swoop that attempt after attempt, not a single soul ever saw the light again- that the door only let in, not out. That Bendy was their only salvation. That somehow, Bendy would set them free. Now was the time for her to know how.
"When we believe."
And suddenly, he heard a soft noise. By his side, the woman pulled her head into her lap and started to cry once more.
"My sheep..."
His demeanor now was foreign to his past actions, unlike how he treated her before. He remembered when he touched her hand as she died, how she called for the shepherd- had asked for him to stay by her side. How they both from then on were at Bendy's mercy together, not apart.
He touched her hand again now as he was overcome with the love of his lord.
It hardly remained for a second as she recoiled with a thick gasp, leaving them both cut from the sharp tension and unease with one another in this newfound communion. Their burning emotions could have singed stone.
...
"I...I..."
She held her left palm gingerly as if she was protecting it- not from him, but from the candidness of this moment. Her face reddened with tears somehow became redder as her eyes searched over him, unsure of what to do- think- say-...and then...pink.
Then she saw pink.
The thing he dragged along with him down the hall, even sullied and coated like chocolate over a strawberry, still held a splotch uncoated from the black. She could see it now that she had pulled away from his side.
There were many impossible things that day, but this was impossible even within his own answers.
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"My sheep-!"
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!"
The woman had thrown herself backwards, legs split and shoulders raised, ready to run, to fight, whatever was coming her way.
He filled with shock and shame, a rug pulled from under his feet and leaving his body unsure of where it was.
...He really was that disgusting wasn't he? That even the gentlest touch of his hand was enough to consume her with violent repulsion.
He couldn't believe that he had forgotten this most basic reality of the beings of the ink, that he had behaved as if the woman's presence somehow made him human again- a terrible mistake. That could never be. The truth had returned to slap him back into his place.
Even as second after second passed, neither of them would or could move from these positions.
He dared, he dared to speak.
"My sheep, I-..."
"Stop calling me that!" she bellowed, unsheathing her words like a knife. "What is that?! Where did you get that?!"
What?
Her glower deepened as she pointed with the full extent of her arm.
"Where. Did. You. Get that?" she restated with a hushed fury.
He looked behind him and saw the bag laying by his feet. He was alarmed; she knew something about it he did not, like it was an ancient relic of evil meant to never be touched.
"...I can't believe I thought I could trust you."
His whole torso twisted to face her in bewilderment.
"That." She pointed at it again, taking another step back. "That's my bag."
She left a pause in the air, but quickly grew impatient for him to piece the puzzle together himself.
"I left my bag outside!"
Sammy was frozen, completely unsure of what fueled this fire that was burning through her. She sighed heavily, weary with anger and pain. Her next words were gentler, but only for her sake.
"If you know how to leave, I need to know, Sammy. I need to find him. I need to go home."
He looked back and forth, between the bag and the woman. Finally, he understood.
"My sheep," he said a fourth time, finding firmness and calm despite how she had thrown everything that had sat between their souls. She started to whimper and squint tears back by throwing her head to towards anything besides the man in front of her. She couldn't fathom why he would choose to keep her here, to lie to her to such an extent, to make her believe that maybe a few fake acts of compassion could wash away every stain he left on her life.
Every. Last. Time. He had chosen to hurt her.
"Don't call me that... Please..."
Once again, gasps for air amid cries made her wheeze. Once again, she knew she needed to keep talking as it was her last hope. Her voice was subdued and scarcely able to be heard.
"You...you...why do you hate me?" He could see suffering in her scowl. "Why are you keeping me here?"
Something he couldn't name filled him and made him feel heavy and light all at once. It compelled his lips to part and his oily fingers to touch his heart.
"...I don't hate you."
She was unbearable, incomprehensible, and volatile; she was the epitome of it now. She tried to take away everything good he had here, every security he had in his faith. She had heaved an axe into the reflection he saw in his mirror, and now all that was left was broken glass fading into the rivers of ink; they only gave glimpses of who he had really been- who he was- and it somehow disfigured an already blighted existence.
And yet, hate was no longer the right word.
But this did nothing but rip open her old wounds.
"You said 'SACRIFICE,' Sammy! You said I was a sacrifice! I HEARD YOU- I REMEMBER!"
Her words echoed far from the recording studio. It reverberated into the pipes, and a shudder could be felt within the black blood. It spoke only the truth, and it begged the same of him.
He had sins to answer for.