From that point forward, I made every effort to destroy any tape recorder I could find. Most of the time I didn't even listen to the audio inside. It felt like an invasion of privacy to listen to people's recorded thoughts. 

I've never really been a fan of tape recorders. At first, I was confused by them, but after a while, I realized that it was just a twisted way of storing people's memories. However, instead of being stored safely in people's heads where no one could find them, they were scattered about, so I did my part to try to get rid of as many as possible. Not that destroying the tapes mattered. Knowing this place, the world would probably repair them on its own somehow or replace them with other tapes. After all, there was infinite access to infinite memories.

Most of the tapes had been labeled "Brooks." I couldn't help but feel like the world was targeting me. It probably knew that I was doing something outside of what I would ordinarily do. Perhaps it was feeling threatened by that. I think the Chaos Heart knows that I'm trying to do something about this all, and this is its way of fighting against me. It has thrown my father into the equation, put me on a path that forces me to be separate from Timpani, and made it so the lost ones are searching for me so they can turn me in. 

Then again, that's just my current theory. I don't really know what's going on in this place. I don't know who's in control. I don't know anything at all. However, unlike Mr. L, the thought of not knowing isn't as frustrating to me. I wasn't as desperate for answers as he was. Searching for them would be practically pointless anyway.

Lost ones were walking all over the place, searching for me. Sometimes I almost debated allowing myself to be caught, just because I was curious about what my father wanted with me. Then again, he WAS my father, so whatever it was, it must have been something bad. I mean, to go through the effort of killing the Ink Demon and getting practically everyone to search for me seemed like a lot of effort just to casually reunite with his son. There had to be something more going on.

On top of that, I still wasn't sure why or how he was even here. He was dead long before I destroyed everything and unintentionally made this world. I thought that he was long gone. It was one of the only things I used to be absolutely sure about. 

At the moment, I didn't really have a plan. Usually, I just had an end goal, and I would have others help me with the details. My current end goal was to fix what I broke. I just wasn't sure how to actually do that...

What I DID know was that this world didn't react very kindly to me straying from my usual path. I must be doing something right because everything is going much differently than usual. Timpani was the only familiar face I got the chance to see during this run. I silently wondered where Mr. L could be. Without the Ink Demon around, things must be going much differently for him too. He was probably wandering around somewhere, confused. With each re-run, he does forget a little bit about what happened the last time, but his memory was getting better and better. Maybe that was the problem. His memory was getting better which in turn made him grow more and more tired.

The first ten or so times Mr. L restarted, he didn't remember a single thing about the last run. After that, he began to remember more. He started writing on the walls with invisible ink so he could remind himself. He started trying to get others to remember too.

He never gave up, but I could tell he wanted to. There were times when he almost did quit, but then he'd look at Dimentio and decide to push forward. He'd see how desperate Dimentio was for something to believe in, and continue to try, despite already knowing how things would end. 

That brought me to my next thoughts. What has become of Dimentio? His memory was spotty, so he constantly went back and forth from worshiping the Ink Demon to fearing it and feeling a sense of betrayal from the mere mention of it. I wonder how he reacted to hearing that it was vanquished. 

Honestly, knowing Dimentio, he probably wouldn't have believed my father's words. He knew the power of the Ink Demon better than everyone else. It had become like an obsession for him. He also didn't know my father as I did, so he wouldn't be aware of the fact that my father never lies. Dimentio at the moment was probably on one of the top levels of the castle, drawing a star on the floor and setting candles in each corner so he could attempt to perform some sort of ritual. This place has really changed him...

Before this entire mess, Dimentio acted as if he didn't even need someone to believe in. He had this attitude that made it seem like the only person he completely relied on was himself. I actually respected him for it. It made him seem strong. This Dimentio didn't seem weaker in comparison but just fractured. He lost that faith he used to have in himself and began to depend on other beings to help him, whether that be Mr. L or even the Ink Demon.

I'm the opposite. I have always relied on others, but have been forced to put myself in a situation where I need to learn how to have faith in myself. 

If I ever get my ability to speak back, I already know what my first words are going to be, and who they're going to be for.

At first, I thought that those words should be I'm sorry since all of this is my own fault and I ended up not only breaking the world but breaking everyone important to me. However, while I will formally apologize to them, I realize that they likely already know that I'm sorry. At least, most of them will. Besides, by saying sorry, it would make it seem like I would be asking for forgiveness, which I won't be. I don't deserve forgiveness from anyone after all of this. I want the first thing I say to them to be thank you. I want to thank them for managing to stick by my side after everything I did before this, I want to thank them for being there for me when I needed them, I want to thank them for somehow managing to stay somewhat alive through all of this, and I want to thank them for giving me something to care about. 

Sorry. That was a lot of thinking. Sometimes, since I can't speak, I just go through those internal monologues, trying to picture what I would want to say if my ability to speak hadn't been taken from me.

Storywise, there was a lot of action going on, but not much for me to really explain. I hid from lost ones who were searching for me, I snuck past them, and I continued searching for some sort of hint or something that could tell me what was going on and how I could fix everything.

Sure, there were a lot of unanswered questions that would be nice to learn about, but the only answer I actually needed to find was how to unbreak what I had broken,, and I was pretty certain that no one's fractured memories would hold that answer, so the tape recordings were all useless.

I walked down another set of stairs, then came up to another door, however, this door wasn't like most doors. It was made of metal bars, similar to a prison cage's door.

I squinted and looked behind myself to make sure no lost ones were nearby. Once I was sure I was in the clear, I turned back to the door and grasped the metal bars while peeking inside.

And there it was.

I wasn't sure how yet, but I knew that somehow I just found a big hint.

There Inky was, sitting on the floor while holding a black marker and drawing smiling faces.

Not the Ink Demon, but Inky.

He was small. Probably about two feet tall at most. He wasn't distorted or human-like like Angel, he wasn't human-sized like me, he was just an adorable little guy, sitting on the floor and minding his own business.

It was strange though. I thought that the Ink Demon was the only creation that was supposed to resemble Inky.

This little guy looked innocent. He didn't look like the distorted monster composed of Count Bleck's fear and anger. He looked harmless.

I frowned, then slowly pulled the prison door open. The metal door creaked slightly, making Inky jump up and look at me. He looked almost afraid.

I drew back slightly. Honestly, I was a little afraid too. Why was he sitting alone behind a door like that? He didn't look dangerous. He looked scared.

I slowly approached him, holding my hands out to show him that I wasn't carrying any weapons.

He flinched and stepped back. I wished that I could talk so I could tell him that it was okay and that I wasn't going to hurt him.

He looked up at me, fear still in his eyes. Then, to my surprise, he pushed past me and sprinted away.

Wait! I wanted to say. I didn't mean to scare you! Come back!