Cares of Communion (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

8- Gone but Not Forgotten

"Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved. But you, O God, will cast them down into the pit of destruction; men of blood and treachery shall not live out half their days. But I will trust in you." – Psalm 55:22-23

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And away they went, deeper and deeper into the darkest lair of angels, untouched by heaven's light above the studio. Sammy had so very much locked inside his chest, and it all felt like it simply wanted to break out- to tear a hole right through his liquid ribcage to shoot out at the person in front of him.

It was a rageful desire, but surprisingly not to direct violence towards the angel herself.

...Although she certainly had much in mind for him, slithering all the way down into her domain as if there wouldn't be consequences. As if there would be nothing to say about him past, present, and future that made her sick. And even though it was still unfathomable why, precisely, Alice despised Sammy besides in how his position as prophet put them in opposition- a literal demon versus angel scenario where he was with the latter-...Sammy knew something else.

Sammy knew not what he was hated for, but that there was certainly something still lingering from all the way back- when their bodies flowed with blood instead of ink- that she seemed to cling to but he in lost memory could not.

And as Alice was the only person he had identified to keep this sacred yet utterly cursed knowledge of what their lives were like before all this, she too was the only one to ask to bestow it upon him.

And so he had correctly anticipated her wrath as payment in return.

"Do you REALLY think you can come into MY place, into MY domain and look me in the face like you're so innocent?!"

Far, far out of the earshot of a woman she had grown to pain for, Alice deemed it more than just appropriate to not hold back.

No. It was necessary.

Sammy was simply deserving of whatever came his way.

Her fist pounded against the wall of the elevator as it continued to carry them down and away from the soul they cared about in such different yet reminiscent ways. The sound echoed up and up and up, but Francine would never hear it.

Maybe she was already gone, but Sammy wasn't aware of her new comradery; he only felt the noise of Alice Angel's rage vibrate into his gut and refused as best as he could muster its sick feeling.

The shadows of the bars crossed over their faces- Alice's scarred with near perfection and Sammy's mask tarnished with devotion.

Both held the markings of longing for what they may never have, and so encapsulated complete and utter terror that made Alice scream and Sammy silent.

"Worshiping the ink demon!" The most cutting of scowls carved into her face, pinching her one true eye underneath with disgust. She might as well have been spitting at him. But then somehow...a look of total abhorrence became something even more offended.

"It was one thing for you to make up a whole damn religion just to make yourself feel better, putting trust in the last thing you should," she hissed quietly, shadow crawling over both the natural and unnatural curves and indents of her body, "It was pointless to think anyone else to fall for it, and so I. Let. It. Go."

Even closer. He could see the torn side of her face twitch as muscles still in slices did their best to abide by the pull of her emotion, her fury.