Turpentine & Vetiver

29. Returning [ 1 YEAR AFTER THE VOID ]

      -Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win. — Stephen King

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   I've escaped this vile purgatory, thought Thorn, staring in confusion down the dark beach. It appeared to be sometime in the late evening- and he wasn't sure exactly where he was. At least I'm in the right town, I think- he looked nervously around for any signs the Red Void was still close by. Seeing nothing alarming, he stood up and looked at his surroundings- rocks, sharp and jutting out of the sand; rotting kelp draped over driftwood skeletons like decaying clothes. Half of a small dead red octopus had washed up, picked at by scavenging seagulls and crabs.
Thorn felt an unfamiliar vertigo as he became aware of his surroundings, this was reality- nothing like the void at all. Well, except maybe how cold it was. He walked up the beach until he reached the lighthouse, noticing in dismay his clothes were still bloody, and now soaked in saltwater. Although it was not freezing, it wouldn't do any good to be out here- cold and wet, wearing ripped and bloody clothing. Thorn hoped the things he'd stashed in the basement of the lighthouse were relatively undisturbed- he didn't think he'd been gone for more than several months.
The spare clothes were somewhat dusty, and the key he'd hidden almost broke off in the lock. Everything was rusted, or appeared worse for the wear. Several of the canvases he'd kept down here were ruined- he'd have to find a better place to store them- maybe even in the dark building, since he didn't have to hide anything from Inky anymore. Inky. Where are you? Thorn was suddenly worried- since returning from the Red Void, he'd felt increasingly paranoid something terrible might happen to her.
He'd seen her try and fail to destroy the sculpture of the abomination many times before. His mind felt -wrong- he'd never felt like this before; perhaps the void had taken its toll after all- he felt terribly unstable, as though his mind contained thoughts that were not his. I just want to go home, he thought, realizing he didn't really mean the dark building in particular- rather; anywhere Inky happened to be. I did this all for you. Thorn was a psychopath- but he could feel emotion, even if it was only towards Inky. He thought of how she would stare back at him through the darkness, her grey eyes seeing things about himself he never could.
It's not like I don't feel- I either feel everything or nothing. When you look at me like that, I feel simultaneously powerless and in control- we are equals; the parallels. Thorn realized he'd probably been in love with Inky for as long as he could remember- he just didn't know the feeling; didn't know how to process the emotion so he locked it away. Before he'd actually met her, back in art school, there had been two others- but he didn't feel anything for them, and being with them did not make him feel any less dead inside. Dead, and really bored. Not with Inky, though- he remembered the visions he used to have, even as a child; how even then her presence always calmed him, and he didn't feel so utterly alone.
   Thorn shook his head- it's not up to Inky to fix my broken mind. She should never feel guilt or responsibility for my actions. He knew what he'd done was morally reprehensible at the very least and worthy of a death sentence or eternity in hell (or the void) at the worst- though none of it was directly Inky's fault. Yes, she did open the Red Void via her despised creation- but he was the one wielding the knife- playing judge, jury, and executioner; all for the sake of his own sanity. Thorn was disgusted with himself by this narcissistic revelation- he'd spent so much time hating himself and everyone around him that he didn't realize- he wasn't protecting Inky, not really- if anything he'd put her in a different kind of danger through his own murderous activities.
   However, Inky had chosen to stay with him of her own volition- and after all, it was inevitable; Cayson DID have to die. I still don't feel guilty for killing ANY of them, I only feel guilty for- putting you in any kind of dangerous situation. Maybe, though- just maybe- I sometimes wish you were... also fucked-up; somehow defective. Perhaps it isn't fair for me to think it; but I want you to be as beautifully broken as I am. Do you understand? I see the darkness you conceal, and while I don't find you to be capable of murder... well, maybe there's something wrong with you, after all- for staying with me; although I am relieved you didn't change your mind.
   In the morning, Thorn cleaned the blood and dust off of himself the best he could, and walked slowly into town. He didn't want to arouse suspicion- he figured he'd find some way to meet up with Inky without startling her. I can't just show up at her studio- besides, she has my keys, my phone- everything that connects me to the outside world. In the pocket of his jacket, he did find a crumpled $20 bill, a strip of parchment paper, and a sepia pen. Thorn decided to write something for Inky- something he would give to her in person, when they saw each other again- outside the Red Void.