The Real Beginning
I’d been living with Ink for the past few weeks if you could call it living. He ignored me mostly, only paid attention to me when he was upset about Error, but even then it wasn’t pleasant. He was both interested in me and annoyed by my presence. I understand why though, I’m not him, I’m not the one he loves. I had to follow him everywhere and I found so many souls afraid of me, but that was okay… it would be okay. It took a while before I could find any more remnants of Error, and through stitched together words of dozens of his victims, I knew what Ink wanted, what he desired so truly as to create me. Maybe I could give it to him.
“Ink!~” I called out as I followed after him as if I was a duckling waddling after my mother. I guess you could say I had changed, or maybe I was reverting. Eyes that flickered with a new hope through a bright yellow color of lights. He ignored me, as always, I mean what was I expecting? “I learned to do that yarn thing while you were asleep!” I called after him, yes, the ‘yarn thing’. He turned back to look at me, the remnants of his loved one seeping through my inky coating once more as he looked over me.
“Yarn thing?” He finally spoke eyeing me over with curiosity, then pain, then numbness, “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“This!” I responded, forcing the chipper sound to my voice, reaching up and grabbing the dripping bright cyan that sat below my eyes, then pulled. The pain lifted a bit and soon formed yarn that was being pulled from my eyes. “The yarn thing! See!” He practically dropped broomy as he fell to his knees and grabbed my forearms.
“What do you remember!” He always asked, especially when I did something reminded him of his dearly departed. The grip on my arms was tense and tight, if I’d been human, it probably would have bruised. It tightened when I didn’t respond fast enough. “WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER!” he practically screamed.
“I-I… um, okay, just give me a sec.” I said taking in a sharp breath before thinking, it was fuzzy, “Books… I remember books,” but when I started his hands trembled, “And um, you, you were, hovering over me, saying something… ugh.” I grabbed my head, it always hurt to force it. “I’m sorry!” I wasn’t ready… I’m never ready… Why can’t I just make him happy!
