Bloodstains & Sepia

Chapter 3: Conspiracy

- Condemnation without investigation is the highest form of ignorance.
                                      - Albert Einstein

   After deciding that Inky staying at Sam's was the best option, Thorn drove the black Charger eastward, stopping only for coffee and fuel at a run-down looking gas station manned by a decrepit, chain-smoking attendant. He certainly didn't want to see his estranged and thought-dead brother, yet unfortunately it seemed like the only option. This better not be a waste of my goddamned time, Thorn told himself, reminded of why he wanted to leave his past where it belonged. I thought I killed him on that fateful night, so many years ago...
   He drove out east until all the scenery started to look the same; bleeding together into a static, congealed haze of road, trees, and nacreous, grey sky. He'd wished that Inky was there to keep him company on the drive; although his intrusive, restless thoughts remained his solitary travel companion. Finally after what seemed like hours, the road veered right, and he turned the car to meet the large black iron gates in front of a long, narrow pathway.
   Security cameras lined the driveway- as if the occupants were paranoid or expecting unpleasant company. Well- I suppose my presence can be- unpleasant for some, he thought wryly, lighting a Camel cigarette he'd discovered in a half-empty pack in the glove compartment. Usually he didn't smoke- however, he'd been poaching smokes from Inky when he knew she wasn't around- the unfamiliar anxiety causing him to develop a different set of unhealthy coping mechanisms. Thorn imagined that she probably wouldn't be too happy about it- and decided to keep the newly-acquired habit to himself. Exhaling smoke, Thorn exited the vehicle and pressed the red button on the gate's cobwebbed security panel. A buzzing alarm sounded twice, and the old gate slowly swung inward, allowing access to the property beyond.
   Feeling indecisive about what to do with Inky's car, he slowly drove past the gate and parked outside the foreboding white building. It appeared to be an old estate of sorts, the architecture seeming out of place amongst the mossy scenery. Of course that bastard has to be somewhat well-off, otherwise he wouldn't be able to afford somewhere like that, Thorn thought disgustedly. My whole life I've had to work hard for everything- and still, Inky and I live in a creepy old building in the middle of nowhere... He realized that even though he hadn't seen Colin for many years, he still despised him as much as he had when they were only children.
   Finishing the cigarette, Thorn got out of the car again, locking the door behind him. He hoped Inky was having a good time with her new friend- she didn't really have anyone to talk to besides him, and he knew she missed having friends. All of Inky's friends hate you, he thought. Former friends, anyway. Perhaps it was better this way- there were probably things she'd rather not discuss with him anyhow. I know she wouldn't keep anything hidden from me- I wish that I could say the same for myself... I know it's not fair, I just don't want her to get involved with something she could get hurt by. The cigarette hadn't done much to calm his nerves, and Thorn tried to keep his mind blank, controlled. Easier said than done- since meeting Inky- his entire life had changed, and his mind filled with a myriad of unwelcome emotions.
You're supposed to be a psychopath- you're not supposed to even -have- emotions, he reminded himself in futility. Trying to shake off this feeling, Thorn checked his surroundings to make sure he wasn't being watched by any unwelcome observers- then reluctantly walked to the porch of the foreboding building. He took a few minutes to check around the perimeter, then knocked on the door three times impatiently. After a moment, he heard footsteps in the hallway behind the door, then the sound of a lock slowly turning. Thorn felt awkward, standing there in front of the large white door with his hands in the pockets of his black military jacket, although he forced himself not to acknowledge the feeling. It was only his brother, after all- not some ghastly spectre or other monstrous entity.
The door finally opened, and Thorn found himself staring face-to-face with his presumed-dead relative after 10 long years. He almost laughed- not only did he and Colin look nothing alike- he wasn't sure why he'd ever been nervous in the first place. If things go wrong, I could definitely defend myself- although I know looks can be deceiving... He regarded his brother calmly, removing his hands from his pockets and staring back, expression carefully neutral.
Finally, Colin spoke first. "It's been a while. Never imagined I'd see you again in person," he remarked; the somewhat-mocking tone in his voice as irritating as it had ever been. There's definitely a reason for that, Colin. Last time I saw you, I tried to kill you... Thankfully, Colin had never figured out the truth of the matter- that it was his own brother who was the one responsible for his near-demise; so many years ago. "Well- it appears that I'm here- trust me, I wouldn't have even bothered if I'd known you'd be so- unaccommodating," Thorn replied sarcastically. "You didn't really give me much notice," Colin answered dejectedly, giving Thorn a quizzical look. "Besides one other person- you're the only one who knows about the existence of the Red Void," Thorn said quickly, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.
"Who else knows?" Thorn stepped through the doorway without waiting for Colin to invite him inside. "My girlfriend. We- stopped the void with a ritual that we devised. Now I just need to know- how to keep it locked away." Colin sighed in irritation and closed the door behind them, double-checking the locks. "I'll tell you everything I know," he muttered; hanging up his pretentious, green tweed coat on a hook by the door. Thorn looked around rather uncomfortably, unimpressed by this entire encounter.
"Do you want a drink or something?" Colin gestured toward a wooden shelf that had been haphazardly converted into a minibar. It appeared to contain mostly expensive whiskies; which Thorn despised. He shook his head- "No thank you," and waited patiently as his brother poured an obnoxious amount of Scotch into a crystal drinking glass. Thorn reluctantly followed him into the next room, which contained what appeared to be an extensive research library, shelved in tall oak cabinets. The books varied in topic- ranging from cults to mythology to medical science. A few lone curiosities sat perched atop the shelves- an odd brass urn, a taxidermy falcon, and a myriad of glass jars full of a foul-looking amber liquid; preserving the contents- which on secondary inspection, were organs of an unidentified species.
Thorn spied a manila folder labeled 'March 26, 1997' -which, coincidentally or perhaps not so- was Inky's birthday. What the hell is that? He wondered silently, making a mental note to confiscate it on his way out. The entire interior of the estate was rather sparse and undecorated, everything the same boring shade of light brown oak or dark green wall- the wooden floor mismatched by several shades and the tall ceiling stark white- which Thorn found aesthetically unsettling. Colin sat down on a hideous forest-green couch, taking a drink of the harsh liquor. Thorn stared for a moment, before averting his eyes in disgust.
From the look of things, his younger sibling had taken on the same predilection towards alcohol as his neglectful mother had- always too drunk to care about what torments he was going through at the hands of their father. It was still endlessly irritating that Colin had never been blamed for his stint with pyromania- and Thorn was once again the scapegoat. He waited patiently while Colin told him all he knew, taking notes in the spare black Moleskine notebook he'd brought. He'd also secretly smuggled along a voice recorder, taping the evidence of their conversation. His brother seemed to be getting increasingly more drunk as their conversation progressed, bright blue eyes seeming glazed and strange. How embarrassing, Thorn mused, I may be a psychopath but at least I'm not a fucking alcoholic. His brother's convoluted tirade bordered on the fanatical- seeming overly-exaggerated in the drunken fervor. Nevertheless; Thorn waited for Colin to finish his rant on what -he- presumed the Red Void could be, and stood awkwardly beside the window- unwilling to touch any of the odd, green-leather furniture that resembled the skin of a reptile.
A rustling noise from the hedges outside distracted Thorn from the conversation- which was just as well, since Colin's theories were starting to annoy and bore him anyhow. He peered out the window, hesitantly touching the dusty emerald-green curtains; eyes focusing and trying to conceal his surprise when he found someone watching through the window. Oh-so I'm not the only creep looking into people's windows, Thorn thought in vague amusement; before the startled -someone- fell back from the window with an ungraceful crash. "The hell was that?" Colin slurred, and Thorn turned around, quickly thinking up a response. "Um- probably just a wild animal or something- you do live in the woods, after all," Thorn said sarcastically.
"Anyway- I really should be going," he switched off the recording device concealed in his pocket. "I'll call you if I find out about anything else. If you want- I have a group that meets on Wednesdays if you want to go," Colin continued, setting the glass down on the water-warped coffee table. Thorn nodded in agreement, although he barely took notice of his brother's words. On the way out, he stealthily grabbed the manila folder, concealing it beneath his jacket. "Lock the door behind you," Colin hollered down the hallway, as Thorn figured that by now his brother was too damn drunk to do it himself. "Will do," Thorn muttered in distaste, then left the strange estate with its hideous interior decorating.
   He unlocked Inky's car, leaving the folder, his Moleskine, and the recording device on the passenger seat. Then, checking his surroundings, decided to go look for whoever it had been- watching them through the window. On the left side of the estate property was an unkempt row of tall evergreen hedges, and behind the hedges, a stranger lay awkwardly on the ground, a large knife beside him and a pile of grey concrete construction bricks topped over next to the window. He wore a grey hoodie and dark plaid flannel shirt, ripped black jeans and muddy boots. Thorn didn't think he looked quite like a hobo- perhaps he was a burglar, or a voyeur or something. Either way, Thorn was somewhat grateful that this odd stranger had provided him with the distraction he'd needed to leave and abscond with the mysterious folder.
   He looked up at Thorn in a sudden panic, reaching for the obtuse knife- Thorn thought it looked like a kitchen knife; possibly an unorthodox type of hunting knife. "Don't worry- I won't call the police," Thorn told him quietly. "I was just leaving," the man replied, hazel eyes glancing around nervously. He looked to be around the same age as Thorn; perhaps younger or older- it was difficult to tell. "What were you doing- watching through the window? That's usually more my kind of thing," Thorn joked, attempting to seem less intimidating. "The guy who lives there- he has these weird meetings a few times a month," the stranger explained, then- "what do you mean about staring through windows? Are you some kind of pervert or something?"
   Thorn laughed wryly. "Or something. What about you?" The strange man stood up clumsily, brushing grass and dirt off of his clothes. "Maybe sometimes," he replied, concealing the awkward knife in a makeshift sheath. He started to walk away, then noticed the black Charger parked outside. "Don't do it, Jack," he muttered to himself, hands in his pockets. Thorn watched him in curiosity- so your name is Jack- he thought, unsure what this strange person planned on doing. "Do you need a ride somewhere?" Thorn asked him, deciding that this Jack fellow was probably mostly harmless. He was an excellent judge of character, and luckily for everyone involved, this guy didn't seem like a creep. "Maybe?" The man named Jack replied sheepishly, not meeting Thorn's eyes. Great- he can probably tell I'm a psychopath... Perhaps he was used to avoiding strange people- though Thorn didn't think he looked particularly dirty enough to be a hobo, and he didn't appear to be a drug addict, either.
"I'm driving back towards town- I'm staying in a hotel by the evergreen rainforest. My girlfriend and I are here on vacation," Thorn explained to Jack. "Where are you from? Jack asked nervously, shuffling his feet and staring down the road. "East Coast originally," Thorn replied vaguely, getting into the car and emptying the passenger seat. He still needed to meet up with Inky tonight; she was staying at Sam's house for the time being. However- it wouldn't take too long if Jack only needed a ride into town- though it appeared he had no other belongings aside from an old khaki knapsack and the strange knife. Thorn opened the passenger door- "I'm leaving now- last chance," he called out to Jack, who seemed reluctant to get into the vehicle; although suddenly in a hurry to leave the premises. Thorn noticed that Colin was watching them from the window now, the glass of ever-present Scotch in his hand and a frown on his features.
"I don't think that guy likes me very much- he called the cops on me the last time," Jack muttered. "That makes two of us," Thorn answered. "He's my younger brother." Jack nodded- "I'm not really close with my family either- that's one of the reasons I'm always on the go." He rolled down the window to give Colin the middle finger as Thorn drove away, laughing. "So- your name is Jack?" Jack nodded, opening the glove compartment and rifling through the stash of CDs and cassettes Inky tended to hoard inside, staring at the obscure titles as Thorn drove away from the creepy old white building. The gate creaked, then swung shut abruptly; almost clipping the taillight of the old Charger.
"What an asshole," Thorn mumbled in irritation, ignoring Jack, who was now rummaging around in the knapsack, cursing to himself as though he'd lost something. All in all, this guy seemed slightly odd- yet not in the least bit dangerous- which Thorn was thankful for. Jack remained silent for the majority of the drive, staring blankly ahead and ignoring the scenery. "What's wrong?" Thorn asked finally- "I lost something important back there- I can't go back because he's going to call the cops on me again," Jack explained in a sullen voice, staring into the contents of the knapsack with a disappointed expression on his face.
Meanwhile; Inky was at Sam's house- they'd had tea and Sam had showed her around the property she rented, and then they'd decided to make some art. Inky had offered to get them some wine- although Sam declined. "I'm not really much of a drinker, but I do have this," she replied, opening a wooden box which contained a few joints rolled in fancy paper that resembled origami. Inky laughed- she hadn't smoked weed since high school; with her two former friends, Emma and Evan. It had sometimes made her paranoid- although sometimes helped with her anxiety, focus, insomnia, and creative process. She'd hidden this 'bad habit' along with her cigarette smoking- it was easy, since both her parents were mostly absent from her life due to work.
She remembered feeling so alone- especially after the night with the sculpture and the blood in her closet- nobody she could really trust or talk to. Not until she'd moved into the city, not until the night of the terrible Red Dream at the top of the Artist's Loft...
"Inky?" Sam's voice broke through her nervous contemplation. "Oh- sorry- was I spacing out again?" Inky asked, eyes on the floor. The rug they were standing on had a subtle pattern in grey; which if she focused her eyes on too long, started to shift like a kaleidoscope. Why is this happening again? She held her hand up, trying to point at a blue-floral pattern joint. "I haven't smoked since I was in high school," she commented, handing Sam the 'Roadside Inn' matchbook.
They listened to New Order records and painted, and by the time Inky heard her old car pull in to the driveway, it was already almost evening. "Oh no- I'm so high," Inky said with a laugh, noticing how much paint she'd gotten on herself as well as the canvas in front of her. "Do you normally smoke that much or am I just really high?" She stared out the window nervously. "You'll be okay, Inky. I don't think that anyone will notice," Sam tried to reassure her. "Besides- it's legal." The car parked, and Inky watched as Thorn walked towards the door, accompanied by a stranger.
Who the hell is that? she wondered, having never seen the other person before in her life. A loud buzzing noise made her jump as though she'd been mildly electrocuted- until she realized sheepishly that it was just the doorbell. "I'll get it," Sam said more to herself, wiping blue paint off of her hands and standing up. Inky listened as the door opened, and oddly enough, Sam seemed to recognize the stranger who was there with Thorn. "Oh. What's up, Jack? What the heck are you doing all the way out here- again?" The stranger laughed- "It's a long story. I'd rather not explain on the porch," and then he peered around the corner. "Smells like a dispensary in there. Or a Dr. Dre concert," Jack commented, walking past Sam and through the door.
"Are you two- stoned?" Thorn asked in amusement, staring down the hallway at Inky, who was trying to wash all the paint off of her hands. He saw that she'd managed to paint herself as usual- shades of blue, red, and black streaked across her pale skin. Inky giggled quietly to herself- hoping that Thorn wouldn't be upset. She'd never really mentioned the topic until now- although she doubted he smoked- considering he barely drank alcohol; aside from when they had a few drinks together. "Did you find out- the information you needed?" Inky asked him, remembering the reason he'd had to travel east in the first place. "It was all pretty vague- I'll explain later," Thorn answered, inspecting Inky's newest painting.
"I hope you're not upset with me," Inky replied awkwardly, noticing how red her eyes seemed in the reflection in the mirror. "Why would I be? It's honestly kind of funny," Thorn told her, standing closely behind her. "I don't know- I haven't done this since high school," she answered nervously; picking at the paint on her fingernails. Meanwhile, the stranger -Jack- was standing in the corner, seeming uncomfortable and slightly anxious about something. "This is Jack, by the way," Thorn commented. "I met him outside my- uh, destination... He needs a ride into town and I figured since it's on the way..." Inky looked up in the general direction of where he was standing, and Jack gave her a crooked, nervous smile, then averted his eyes rather awkwardly and obviously.
"Sorry I- get nervous around new people," he admitted. "Jack, this is Inky- my girlfriend. I'm Thorn, by the way- I don't usually introduce myself to people," Thorn told him matter-of-factly. "Nice to meet you," Jack replied, removing his slouchy grey hat to reveal shocking electric-blue dyed hair in a similar hairstyle to Thorn's. "I- you're really pretty," Jack stuttered, turning away in flustered embarrassment. "Hey Jack- she's spoken for," Sam cut in, lighting another joint and passing it to Jack this time. "This might help you calm down," she told him. "I'm calm, I'm fine," he said quickly to himself, although sounding like he was trying to convince himself mostly. "I'm sorry, Thorn- I'm not trying to pick up on your girlfriend," Jack explained, exhaling a large cloud of skunky smoke.
Thorn shook his head- Jack seemed mostly harmless, after all- and besides, he wasn't wrong. "I know," he replied simply, resting his hand on Inky's shoulder. He looked at her nonchalantly, noticing the embarrassed expression on her face. "It's okay, Inky," he told her in a low voice; "we can get out of here if you want." Inky shook her head. "We were- going to watch a movie," she explained, fidgeting with her necklace- a vintage glass eyeball set in silver- disturbing in its colorless dark gaze. My eyes look- cold and dead like that, Thorn thought; averting his eyes and blinking at the unexpected, sudden tension headache, unsure of the cause.
   Inky looked up at him in concern, grey eyes wide, slightly bloodshot, and mascara smudged across her cheekbone. "Are you okay?" she inquired softly; peering upwards into his eyes and attempting to decipher his expression. He slowly backed away, shaking his head. "Migraine," he answered, hoping that Inky didn't ask any further questions. Lucky for him Sam and Jack were preoccupied smoking the -herb- because Thorn hadn't experienced a feeling even remotely similar to this since he'd been held hostage of his own mind in the Red Void. Thorn also had his own suspicions about -why- he felt this way, although he preferred to keep his hypothesis to himself for the time being. It wasn't necessary to cause Inky or the others anxiety, especially since they seemed to be having such a good time.
   "Want a hit?" Jack cut in, offering Thorn the joint. He debated this for a moment- he'd never done drugs, really- aside from prescription medication, caffeine, nicotine, and the ubiquitous yet conservative gin and tonic; truthfully- he'd never much considered drugs as a means to escape the hell within his own mind. I don't know how this will effect me- what if it causes all my unsavory tendencies to come into the light? What if I embarrass Inky- or myself- in front of her new friend? Thorn looked sideways at Jack, pondering this existential dilemma- then decided to stop overthinking his whole existence, because after all- he was still in control; or at the very least- a passable semblance of it.
   Control- I was afraid of losing control for so long- until I met you, Inky. I know that no matter what I do- somehow, despite what I've done, you still manage to love me... choose to be with me. Unconditionally. I don't know if that makes you as broken as I am, but I would do anything for you. Including this- travel, friendship, trying out new things. Because you showed me- I'm not as irredeemable as I perceived I was, I can feel- happiness; and this is the truth that's cut through the blankness, the cold apathy I tend to feel.
   He looked back at Inky, at the depths of emotion in her grey eyes. Abruptly, he pulled her closer, one hand tangled in the back of her black hair. At this moment, Thorn did not care if anyone were watching- "I trust you, Inky," he admitted quietly, trying to maintain eye contact despite the headache that threatened to cause an aneurysm of some sort. Confessing he trusted anyone was nearly as difficult as expressing his true feelings- because Thorn didn't really trust anybody- not even myself. ESPECIALLY not myself. Only you, Inky. So far, you've only been supportive and understanding of me, even though I probably, no -definitely- don't always deserve it. I hope you know that I only want to protect you, keep you safe yet allow you your freedom... I would never hurt you, and I'd kill anyone who did or even attempted to. I want you to be happy. I know- I'm finally happy with you, Inky.
   Her expression shifted as she stared back at him- "I love you," she whispered, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss the side of his neck. Her face was beet-red now, although she looked so happy- and somewhat pleased with herself. Thorn knew she must feel awkward to be so- affectionate with him in the semi-public; however, he was glad that in turn, he'd helped her feel less self-conscious about her own emotions. In the meantime, Sam and Jack had wandered away to procure more -supplies- and Thorn felt an odd, residual guilt for not including himself in the evening's festivities. "What movie do you want to watch?" he asked Inky, holding her hand. "Masque of the Red Death," she replied- "based on the Edgar Allan Poe story," Thorn agreed. "One of my favorites."
   They awkwardly filed into the next room to watch the movie, Thorn noticing that indeed, the effects of smoking had seemed to provide anxiety relief to the other three. Two out of three don't know I'm a killer- he mused darkly, sitting beside Inky on the dark blue couch. Sam returned after a few moments, carrying a glass tray with assorted cheese, pickled vegetables, and other slightly-pretentious deli items. Thorn smirked, recalling his own recent grocery run- Inky's new friend at least had good taste- and despite his general distaste in humanity- Inky needed new friends, after all- she shouldn't be subjected to only seeing him every waking moment. She sat down on the other side of Inky, holding up a mug of tea in a toast. "Cheers," Inky said quietly, and the sound of the movie slowly filled the room.
   Jack returned as well, carrying a spare wooden chair and exhaling smoke into the room. He somewhat nervously set up the chair in a corner, setting the joint down in a glass jar containing the remains of a candle and several fused wooden matches. The old matchbox below read 'Ohio Blue Tip', and appeared to be vintage. Well, here goes nothing, Thorn told himself, cursing himself inwardly for- always being so- unaccommodating. He looked down briefly at his own left hand, which had picked up the joint seemingly- almost mindlessly- although he knew every intention. Inky looked on in a combination of bewilderment and shock- "Thorn? What are you-" he felt almost as if he were on the outside looking in as he took a hit off the weed, passing it back to Jack. "You can sit over here next to me, you know," Thorn offered. "I'm not a complete psycho."
   I've never really had friends before- nobody in my life until Inky. Perhaps I should- try to socialize a bit, as forced as it may seem... Suddenly, Thorn realized that for the first time- it didn't feel forced, and the atrocious headache had subsided as well. The four of them watched the movie in mostly-silence, and although Thorn kept catching Jack staring shyly over at Inky- well, he didn't blame him for noticing the obvious. See, Inky- you're definitely not invisible, he thought yet did not say. In any case- Jack was definitely harmless- Thorn was excellent at reading the intentions of others, and would have already removed them both from the situation if there was a threat. No- now wasn't the right time to be cautious and guarded... not anymore. For once -this was- friendship? He still wasn't sure, certainly it didn't hint at any sort of betrayal.
   Whatever he'd smoked seemed to be taking effect, because he barely even felt like his usual blank self. Perhaps this wasn't entirely a negative thing- after all, he'd already acknowledged the darkest parts of his own mind, and now it was time to search for the opposite. I won't allow my darkness to corrupt Inky- or anyone else who doesn't deserve it. Not anymore, I'm tired of running from my dark mind. I'm- not alone anymore. It could have been the long and rather tedious day, or the unfamiliar calming effect of the marijuana; but in any case, Thorn actually felt a sense of belonging, even- friendship- among these new strangers- no; friends.