Saltwater & Ink

10. The Void Calls *post tenebras lux*

Several weeks after the incident on Artist's Night, and the insomnia had set in. Inky was struggling to make sense of the whole ordeal, attempting to put the pieces back together. She had submitted a few of her newest works to the Gallery for a showing- it seemed that Cayson and Mr. Elder had taken interest in her artwork- yet she was never invited to show her creations. This frustration led to many sleepless nights of working on her sculptures and paintings, chainsmoking in her small studio with the windows open wide to the cold night air. She had tried to keep in contact with her friends, though it seemed harder to talk to them casually after that night. She felt as if she had been abandoned to that horrible place- though she was sure it had just been some terrible hallucination conjured up from lack of sleep- or at least she kept telling herself, even though she knew that was a lie.
Inky was wearing large, soundproof headphones to block out the night sounds- so she didn't hear her phone ring right away. When she finally noticed- it was Emma calling, asking her to meet up with the group again. Reluctantly, Inky agreed to meet them for coffee in the morning at the Gallery. She hadn't been working there as much lately, taking some time off to work on her art exhibit. Furiously working through the night, Inky covered her new canvas with multiple coats of thick, dark paint that resembled the color of the sea. Her white button-down shirt was covered in paint, rust, and turpentine stains, she was paler than usual and had a few cigarette burns on her arms from when she'd almost fallen asleep from pure mental exhaustion. Inky was afraid to go to sleep, scared that she'd experience the same nightmare from before. She'd only managed to fall asleep a few times during the day, waking up in the middle of her studio floor in a mess of paint tubes and ashes. It was a wonder she hadn't accidentally set fire to the place.
In the morning, she locked up the apartment and walked down to the Gallery. Emma and Miranda were outside on the patio, holding small paper cups of coffee. "You look like shit," Miranda said nonchalantly, handing Inky a cup of coffee. "Up all night again?" Inky nodded, taking a drink of the hot liquid. Her eyes felt unfocused and her mind was tired, she shook her head, attempting to shake off the fatigue. Miranda was explaining about new ideas for an upcoming Artist's Night event, how she wanted to get Inky's work in as part of the showcase. "You'll just have a few pieces to show, and talk about your process for a couple minutes," she said, Inky nodding and staring off into the distance without really listening. As the other two chatted and finished their beverages, Inky absently took the white card she'd found on the beach out of her jacket pocket. Still the same numbered, odd coordinates, precisely written. Inky pondered what it led to, and where it came from, though in the back of her mind she had a vague idea.
"What's that?" Emma questioned, looking over Inky's shoulder at the cryptic message. Inky shook her head and took another sip of her coffee. It was getting cold, tasting flat and oily. "I- found it on the beach the next morning," she replied slowly, having only briefly discussed parts of what had taken place that night. She had told them that she'd fallen asleep up on the rooftop, woken up disoriented, and been chased on the beach in the dark. There was no mention of the terrible vision- or nightmare - whatever it was. She'd also neglected to mention who she thought was chasing her, as she had no actual evidence, though she hadn't been so sure she was alone that night. Sometimes, in the fleeting moments that she had been able to fall asleep since then- she'd seen his cold, dark eyes staring at her- emotionless and endless black, and she would wake up in a panic, cold sweat running down her back and across her ribs. Those dark eyes that somehow held the knowledge of the void- Inky stopped, mid-thought, as she felt like she was being watched again.
Indeed she was being watched- there he was, standing across the room from her, staring. His eyes were cold and blank, though his expression was curious. Inky felt trapped, like a prey animal, and forced herself to look away from his unnerving stare. Emma and Miranda had noticed the interloper as well, looking away in disdain. "What a creep," muttered Emma, shooting him a dirty look over her cup of coffee. Miranda visibly shuddered, pulling her coat over her shoulders as if to hide the knife scars on her back. "He wasn't too happy that I won't be working with him anymore," she said, quickly explaining that after the last Artist's Night she'd actually had to get stitches- and the risk wasn't worth it anymore. Emma scoffed. "He's just a sadist who gets off on cutting people up- not worth our time." Inky glanced up, accidentally meeting his eyes again. He said he could help me, she thought, remembering the hand around her wrist, the dark, intense stare he gave her. She looked down again at the small white card in her hand, then back up. The man nodded, almost imperceptibly, before walking out through the glass door.