The door creaked open and the memories flooded to me. All the times dad stayed overtime, overworking himself. All the times dad took us with him, and we sat beside his desk drawing flowers or the cartoon characters he was drawing. We'd always be exploring places we probably shouldn't have, and met so many of dad's coworkers in so many different departments. There was Norman Polk, the projectionist. He was funny, always trying to put a smile on everyone's faces. He disappeared, though, and was never replaced. His work fell onto the music director, Samuel Lawerence, though he was always crabby about being called by his first name, so we just called him Sammy. Then there was Susie. I can't remember much about her, I don't even remember her last name, but I do remember thinking how pretty she was with her curled blonde hair and how I wanted to be pretty just like her.
To be honest, looking back at those memories, I often wonder why dad was able to bring me and Jake to the studio. No one else was allowed to bring their kids when they didn't have a babysitter. And sure, we weren't bad kids, but we weren't good kids either. And the business Mr. Drew was running, it was serious.
It sure as hell wasn't a playground.
"Mr. Drew?" I called into the empty building, which seemed to be collecting dust since the last time I've seen it. I knew it slowly went out of business, but surely Joey wouldn't let it go to waste, would he? Is he even here?
Nightfall meowed at my feet, urging me to head inside. With heavy feet, I did so, trying to fight the fear that was at the back of my mind. What if he isn't here? What am I even doing here, barging in like this? Oh god, I should've written back and scheduled a time we could meet and talk. Why didn't I think of that sooner? Hell, I could've even broken the news through a letter? But that wouldn't be what a Stein does, and I am my father's daughter, no doubt about it.
"It's (Y/n) Stein," I called once more, but still only the emptiness remained. Nothing even stirred.
"I'm here on behalf of my father, Henry Stein. You sent him a letter, but unfortunately he's— he's passed and I am the new owner of the house."
Stepping even further inside, I shut the door behind me. It shut immediately, as if pulled by an unknown force, causing me to jump back on uneasy floorboards, squealing in fear. Nightfall yowled as well, only because I stepped on his tail.
"I'm sorry, buddy," I whispered, grazing his fur with my fingers. He yowled again, hissing. At first, I thought it was towards me, which made me feel bad, but then he bounced in front of me, hissing at the door, as if to protect me from something that he deemed threatening. A cold shiver went down my spine, a lump in my throat formed.
"It's okay, boy." I said to him, kneeling down to pet his head, mainly to give myself reassurance.
He calmed down, and quickly we made our way out of the hallway.
Off the bat I could tell something was no right. Looking around, I knew this place was completely abandoned. The building creaked with every step I took, and with every gust of wind that occurred outside it groaned and moaned, as if it was just begging to be put out of its misery. Cobwebs littered the place, and dust covered every surface: the walls, the ceiling, the tables, the posters. Even the paper left untouched by artists had layers of dust that painted them instead of images made with ink.
I stopped at one of the posters. A demon dressed in a comically pretty tutu was on his tippy-toes on a stage, the spotlight all on him. This demon was the main character of JoeyDrewStudios' show. I remember dad sitting there at his desk with his nose practically touching the paper drawing every little detail upon him. What was his name again? Oh yeah.
It was Bendy.
And the show was called "Bendy and Friends."
Everyday after school and dad wasn't home waiting for us, we'd put on the television and watch the short episodes where Bendy and Boris and Alice went and played in the snow or in the town. I probably watched every episode over and over again; I loved it so much. I wanted to be a part of it, so badly. I'd tell my dad every time I got the chance, "I'm going to be just like you when I grow up!"
And he'd say every time, "Don't go growing up too fast on me now."
Sorrow is such a funny thing, honestly. Or perhaps it's because I've finally lost my marbles. Everyone says I have. Even the ones I love most will admit that I'm a little crazy.
I miss when the times felt so wonderful, and I was young and free... I was so young, so so young. Now look at me, still grieving the death of my parents when normal people would have already moved on. Jake has.
Gosh, I'm a fucking mess.
Take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out, and press on, I told myself. The floors protested.
Continuing on and looking around, there was still no sign of Mr. Drew. As a matter of fact, there was no sign of anyone being her for years. Nightfall sneezed from the dust piling into his nostrils. Gosh, I really should've left him home. Oh well, what's done is done.
My eyes drifted to one of the desks, which happened to be my father's desk. Papers and drawings were scattered throughout the desk; you couldn't even see the dark wood of the desktop with all those papers. I picked up one of the drawings, and what do you know, it was one of my childish drawings. I'm surprised dad would even keep them. But then again, I am his one and only daughter and he would've done anything and everything just to see me smile.
The drawing was of me and him and Jake in stick figure form. I had (h/c) pigtails, and (f/c) overalls over a (f/c) short-sleeved shirt. My brother had his hair swooped to the side; it was probably before summer when I drew this, therefore my brother's hair had not been cut short yet, a shaggy mop on his head instead. I emphasized that it was a mop in my drawing, anyway, yellow scribbles everywhere around his head. Dad's stick figure had a red tie and a brown line on top of his head that made up his hair. I smiled at the drawing, folding it up and putting it into my (f/c) purse I brought with me.
There was another drawing from my childhood that caught my eye: it was of Bendy.
It wasn't in stick figure form this time, though it was badly scribbled. The smile stretched wide on his face with lines as teeth, and the eyes were only two black dot boring holes into my very soul.
It didn't look like any kid drew this, but my name below told me I truly did draw this as a three year old.
An arrow pointed to Bendy, tilting him as somebody's friend, but the name was blotched with ink and dust, and I could only see a D and an A. Quickly I placed that drawing down and continued on my way, a cold shiver climbing up my back like a spider.
A big black, inky spider
My heart started to pound as I looked up in a slight fear. There, on the wall, was some sort of writing in ink. Fresh ink. Someone has been here. And I don't think that's a good thing.
"Joey?" My voice came out wavy, filled with worry and slight fear.
Alas, no one answered. Only the silence surrounding me at every corner, excluding the creaking of the floorboards. Joey, you prick.. How did dad even handle working with you.. I couldn't help but think that to myself, and if Joey was around I'd be snapping at him for his haunted maze of a studio. It really was a maze.
In one entrance, you were led directly to the Art Department. In the other, you were led to the lobby, but that one was locked up since police had investigated this place after my father's death. From what I heard from the streets, Mr. Drew was being sued for poisoning his employees, and abusing his child. But those are rumors I gathered from the streets. I don't know the real story of how JoeyDrewStudios fell into being only a memory.
Nightfall hissed at the writing and scratched it, resulting in getting ink on his paws. I quickly picked up Nightfall as he meowed a protest. Dreams come true.
"Dreams come true, huh?" I challenged it, immediately looking around, paranoid.
I expected a voice to say "Yes they do" or something, but looking around there was no figure and no voice.
Just me and my cat.
Standing there with the creepy note, I sighed to myself, "This is a complete waste of time," I looked down at Nightfall, "C'mon, boy, let's go home."
And mark my words, I would've been out of there, especially after what I saw.
Lost, I wandered into an unknown room. Nightfall hissed and clawed at my feet in an attempt to stop me, but I only scolded him and moved deeper into the room. I was then face-to face with a corpse.
It was a pale, wolf-like face; cartoonish. Upon another glance, I could see it was one of the characters from the cartoon. Boris I think his name was.
His eyes were just two x's stitched gruesomely, a horrible, cartoony trick. Black blood pulsed out from his gaping ribcage, pulsating in a melody of terror. I backed up slowly; my eyes couldn't believe what I've seen.
Is that real? I couldn't tell.
Memories couldn't help but flood into my head. Maybe it was because it was the anniversary of his death, but maybe it was also because I've never handled death well. Blood, blood everywhere on the scene. Blood on me, blood on Jake. When we were at the hospital, dad's lifeless eyes stared emptily at me, dried blood on his head and hair. No, please... I hyperventilated, my legs giving in... No, not right now..
I've never been able to admit I had a phobia of blood. It was a normal fluid from the body, why should I be afraid of it? Yet... I touched my leg, but no blood trickled from me. I was fine. I wasn't bleeding. But the dead body in front of me was— no, that wasn't a body. That was just an animatronic. To scare off teenagers intruding in this private property. Yeah, that's all that was. That's all it was.
I fell to the floor on my knees. Nightfall rubbed his fluffy black fur on me, purring comforting towards me. Slowly my nerves started to slow down. My heart was still pounding like a drum and my legs still shook like twigs, but at least I can get up again.
My gaze went to the wall beside me.
Who's Laughing Now?
It asked.
I nervously chuckled, not meaning to.
I wish I hadn't laughed, because this was no laughing matter. This was cruel, this was evil. It's no wonder this place was shut down.
What is Joey Drew capable of?
Wandering this maze of a studio, I find myself wondering how any of the employees found their way around this place. At one point, I found myself in a game room, which was probably the artist's lounge room, taking their thirty minute break in between the day. I also found myself in a room labeled INK MACHINE. Curiosity got the better of me and I entered the vast room, hobbling over the ink pipe in the path. It felt like the room was calling my name. But all that met my eyes was the void, chains carrying blackness, keeping it from spilling out and consuming this lonely world within.
"I don't recall this room.." I murmured to myself.
Nightfall meowed in agreement.
Was there a need for a beastly brute of a machine for ink? Where even was this machine?
"Turn it on."
I immediately whipped around at the hot breath on my neck. No gaze met mine, only cold shudders putting me in a chokehold. I swallowed and called out, "Joey? Is that you?"
You idiot, this is how everyone in horror movies die. Yet I continued, "This isn't funny.."
There was nothing else to do: I couldn't find the exit, and something told me I needed to turn on this machine, not just the voice that whispered in my ear. It was destiny. Be weary, (Y/n).. You thought Cas was your destiny too, didn't you?
I pushed the thought immediately under the rug. There was no point in bringing the past here, when it was already staring me dead in the eyes as is.
I've been here for almost an hour now. And still Joey wasn't here. Maybe this was what he wanted to show my father, and maybe he won't come out and appear until I turn the machine on. Yes, that's why I felt this was my fate to do this anyway— I was obliged to do so.
I just needed to figure out how to turn it on.
With that in my head, I continued on my way, rushing past the place where the gutted Boris was. I didn't even look at the corpse that long, but I looked at it enough for it to give me shivers and make me nauseous. Nightfall brushed past me, taking the lead and meowing as if he sensed something. I followed him through the old dusty halls, to a room filled with pedestals. All the more waves of shivers went down my spine. They each had a picture of an item, that I assume I have to collect for some kind of ritual.
Nightfall meowed and went to get something, "Nightfall, come here boy!" I called out to him.
Eventually, he did come back, a plushie of Bendy in his mouth, one of the objects we needed to collect. His fluffy black tail wagged swiftly as I smiled and took the plushie from his mouth, "One down, a lot more to go!"
•••
One last item on the pedestal. A book called the Illusion of Living.
The more I explore this place, the more questions I have: Why was it abandoned? What happened here? Who was Joey Drew? Why did he invite my father to this studio when it was just a place collecting dust and cobwebs? Is the Boris I saw once alive? Better yet, will I find the others in the cartoon like Boris, and they be alive too? Will Bendy be alive? He is the star of the show, and a fan favorite along with Boris. I know he was my favorite. So many times I skipped the side character episodes because I wanted to watch Bendy, and Bendy only. What can I say? He was cute, for being a dancing devil.
Nightfall pawed at my feet, snapping me out of my thoughts. He's probably getting really tired of me spacing out, considering he let out a tiny huff. I giggled and kneeled down to pet his head, "Sorry bud. I keep on spacing out on you." Nightfall purred, giving my hand a lick. I gently picked him up, turning on the power.
The lights dimmed as the room felt darker and empty, eerie feeling, but I'm taking that as a good sign. The ink machine should be running now.
I went to the ink machine room, with Nightfall in my arms. But to my confusion, it was boarded up.
That's strange. Very strange.
Hesitantly, as I put Nightfall down, I touched the wooden plank. It was smooth to the touch, no splinters unwanted waiting to pounce.
Before I had any time to react, an inky hand grabbed me. I let out a terrified scream. It acted startled and let go of me. That's when I saw it.
Curved black horns on a black figure dripping with ink. A demon it was, and demons I do not mess with.
My whole body shook in fear as I turned the other way and ran with Nightfall right beside me. It clearly did not like this.
It let out a roar that shook the whole building, rocking it so violently I thought the walls would cave. Then it bursted from the planks, the trap that lured me into the bite, and charged full-speed after me, causing me to pick up Nightfall and run as fast as I could. I didn't even think I could run that fast, especially with a cat in my arms. A flood of ink chased after all of us, overspill from the ink machine. If I stop now, I'll die, no doubts about it.
The exit.
My eyes widened with hope.
It was wide open. So close, yet so far.
The floorboards gave in to my feet.
I was engulfed by the darkness.
Time seemed to slow down as I noticed Nightfall was no longer in my arms. My screams were heard bouncing as I fell deeper and deeper within the studio.
This is it.
Say goodbye, (Y/N).
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
A/N:
Wassup— don't know what else to say,, kinda getting the brain scramblies,, hopefully Nightfall lives ig 🤷♀️ I mean how cruel would I be if I kill the cat off in the first chapters