Saltwater & Ink

4. The Test *ad altiora tendo*

Three weeks later, and they were all sitting on the floor of Inky's room. Her mother was at work, and her new-found comrades had decided it would be a good time to meet up. At first Inky had dreaded the idea, she was still unused to companionship, and was self-conscious that two almost-strangers were going to be casually hanging out in the place where she lived. Prior to this, they had only gotten together after classes outside the school where the other art weirdos would hang out, smoking cigarettes and drinking small paper cups of strong black coffee. Inky wasn't sure what to think of the others, sure that their weird habits and topics of conversation were just another facade, and that they generally lived boring lives at home, in denial of how truly bland their existences were.
Emma and Evan seemed decent enough, they had helped her edit her Art History essay, and introduced her to a few of the others in their social circle. Inky had reluctantly showed them some of her creations; the conglomerations of oily metal parts, wires, plaster, wax and ink that dwelled in her room. Her largest project was still hidden in her closet- she only brought it out to work on from time to time, for some unknown reason, looking at it gave her the creeps. Emma rifled through her brown leather rucksack, pulling out a glass bottle of some amber-colored liquid. Inky looked at it and raised an eyebrow. "What the hell is that?" asked her brother. "Oh, just some liquor I stole from daddy dearest," Emma replied sarcastically. "Oh what the fuck, Em- what if he notices it's missing? We'll be dead for sure." Emma rolled her eyes at him - "Obviously he hasn't noticed it yet- and besides, he's probably out getting shithoused at the Gallery right now anyway," she said dryly. She looked at Inky. "Do you want some?" she asked, unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a large swig. She set it down, making a face. "Tastes like kerosene but...worse," she coughed. Her pale green eyes were already starting to look a bit glassy. Inky shook her head, dark curls obscuring her vision. "I- I don't drink," she replied hastily. "Ah, buddy- it'll be fine," joked Evan, taking the bottle from his sister and drinking a bit as well. He laughed, trying not to spit out the harsh liquid. Inky thought that it smelled like turpentine. She shivered, feeling a strange breeze through the air of her room. The other two were passing the bottle back and forth, Inky had noticed they were getting increasingly more inebriated. She shivered again, this time not from the cold.
A strange noise had started from somewhere in her room, a low mechanical huff, similar to breathing. Inky suspiciously glanced in the direction of her closet. The sound seemed to increase in volume. Ssssshhhkkk...khhhaa...
Evan laughed nervously, taking another sip from the bottle, which was now at least halfway consumed. "What the fuck is that noise, Inky?" he questioned, looking around the room. The sound seemed to be coming from her closet. Inky shrugged, pulling her sleeves down around her ink-stained hands. She wished it would go away, or stop, whatever it was. "Well it fucking sounds like Darth Vader," he stated, staring in confusion in the direction of her closet. Emma giggled uncomfortably, leaning closer to the closet, listening to the noise, which had become a steady mechanical breathing, slightly muffled as if it were underwater. "Yeah Inky," she teased. "Are you hiding a dead body in there?" Inky bit her lip and shook her head. "Em- if it was DEAD then why is it breathing?" replied Evan. Just ignore it, thought Inky. Ignore it and it will go away.
SSSssshhh...Kkhhhh... the noise seemed to reply in defiance of Inky's desperate thoughts. She could feel the cold breeze swirl around the room, beads of sweat sliding down her ribs and spine. "Um, it's probably just the water heater," she lied, hoping that the sound would stop and her friends would quit drunkenly pestering her.
There was a loud, abrupt crunching noise, like the shearing of flesh from bone, and the cold air began to smell strangely of ozone. The bedroom light suddenly failed, plunging the room into darkness. The loud snap of glass indicated that the bulb had shattered. Emma was shaking, and had started to softly cry. "W- what's going on, Inky? Is there somebody else in here? I- I'm getting really scared."
"Don't be stupid," replied her brother. "It's probably just some electrical malfunction." Evan was obviously trying to be the voice of reason, when it seemed like the very foundation of reason and logic had been thrown out the window. Inky nervously stood up, inching quietly towards her closet door. The cold sweat didn't seem to stop, and she tried to control her breathing and appear calm. Emma was obviously terrified, and her brother was trying to act brave but failing. The two of them exchanged nervous glances as Inky stepped closer to the direction of the sound.
The room was mostly dark, only illuminated by the soft, ominous moonlight that glowed outside her bedroom window. The horrible mechanical breathing sound had been replaced by a sickening wet, crunching noise- like chewing on gristle. Please, please stop, Inky silently pleaded. Please go away... She crouched down in front of the closet door, listening to the sound as it seemed to gnaw away aggressively at something in the dark. Summoning up all her courage, Inky slowly began to pull open the closet door. Her clothes hung inside, a sea of monotonous black, shirt sleeves brushing over her face like seaweed as she leaned into the closet where the noise was coming from. Abruptly, the sound ceased, and a tendril of fear slowly crept through her. She could hear the hushed breathing of her companions, she could smell the
ozone and turpentine aroma of the alcohol in the still air surrounding her.
She slowly reached out her hand into the dark, confined space. Carefully, tentatively, she felt around until she reached her unfinished art project at the back of the closet. Slick, oily metal and viscous ink met her shaking fingertips. She exhaled slowly. Okay, it's okay, she thought. See- you're getting all worked up over nothing- and then the feeling of dread rushed back like a flood, as she fumbled around blindly in the depths of the closet. The walls were warm- wet and sticky, and a foul coppery odor permeated the cold air. She felt almost paralyzed, her heart dropping as she pulled her hands back, and saw that they were covered in blood.
Emma shrieked, leaping backwards and away from the scene. Evan noticed his sister's reaction, and stood up quickly, staring wild-eyed around the room. Inky did not have an answer for them, at least not one they wanted to hear- or would believe.