There was an angel hiding behind the mask of a demon. One Alice Angel, trapped in a world with no rules, & no escape into a better life. Days went by underneath the studio, & chaos still reigned, no hope rising on the horizon. There was only her, in her little hideout, surrounded by beasts & monsters & demons. She didn’t want to believe that she was one of them. She was better than them! Surely Joey wouldn’t hurt her like that, surely she was an angel in a world of demons. She was Alice Angel after all, the light in the darkness, the shining star of the Bendy show!
Susie knew better. An angel didn’t hide behind the grotesque face of a demon. A demon hid underneath the facade of an angel. She called herself a saint, she justified her actions with righteousness. But deep down, Susie knew she was no angel, that Alice would never reach that beauty, that perfection she longed for. They longed for, Alice would whisper in the back of her mind when it was Susie’s turn at the steering wheel. Susie knew better. There was no we, no us. Alice was the one in control, Susie was just strung along for a ride she never consented to.
While Alice was out there, ruling over her own domain with an iron fist, Susie retreated to the back of their mind, in hopes that she wouldn’t have to witness the atrocities her cartoon self performed. In those moments, she wept, cried for the days when everything was ok. For the days she had fame, the days she had admirers. For the days when she had a family, when she had love, & happiness. She longed for the days, sitting quietly in the recording booth, surrounded by people who cared for her; Norman, Joey, Sammy. For the days when she saw the colours around her. Jack’s bright blue eyes, so full of gentle joy. Wally’s red hair, popping up all over the studio wherever the janitor went. Shawn’s washed out green jacket that he always seemed to wear. Now, all that there was around, was black. And Susie’s heart itself felt black & rotten, pumping ink instead of blood. She wept, & she cried, & drowned in the ink & in her lament, hidden away in her own head, a prisoner to her own body.