Saltwater & Ink

24. The Storm *memento mori*

   Thorn stood there in the bloody room, silent and still. He looked down at his bloodstained hands, down at the knife, and back at Inky. She averted her eyes again, looking around the room to focus on anything besides besides him. Unable to completely comprehend what had transpired, she wished that the world around them would just crumble away and dissolve. "God damn you," she wept bitterly, voice barely a whisper. He turned away from her, leaving the room and returning after some time with a black shroud-like piece of cloth, which he draped over the corpse on the floor.
   Inky was relieved that she no longer had to look upon his handiwork with the knife. Her mind was being torn apart in all different directions, she was still in denial that this was real, though the blood on the tile told a rather different story.  "So what are you going to do with her?" she asked again, her voice sounding cold and detached. Dissociation was the only way her mind was going to get through this without disintegrating. "I- I take them to the sea," Thorn explained sadly, looking down at Miranda's body with a sorrowful stare. "You know- I don't torture them or anything. It's quick. The abominations are the ones who do that," he said, pantomiming a dissecting motion.
   "I guess that doesn't really matter in the end though, what's been done- I know it's wrong. I know what I am, I didn't want to hide it from you forever, but I knew that you wouldn't be able to accept what I am, Inky."
   She looked up at him, accidentally meeting his dark eyes. "And what is that? What are you, Thorn? You're definitely not the same person I met- or maybe you are and all this time I chose not to identify why it felt so- wrong," she said, eyes filling with tears again. He was the one to turn away from her gaze this time. "I'm not a terrible person, or at least I tried not to be -a monster," he said softly, shame in his eyes. Inky didn't know what to say to him. She shook her head.
   "Maybe you are- maybe not. Were you lying to me about everything you told me?" she asked, praying that he wasn't. "No. The Red Void- everything I told you- it's true. You are the creator and I  am the parallel- creation, destruction. It's how we have to exist. I'm so sorry that it has to be this way," he explained, gesturing vaguely around the room.
   She noticed that he had stepped closer to her, but she didn't move to run away. "It doesn't have to be this way, Thorn," Inky spoke quietly, staring back into his eyes. "I wish I could just split the bad part of myself and the good, and just run away with you- leave everything behind," Thorn replied, a desolate expression on his face. "You still can," she answered, taking a step closer to him as well. He shook his head sadly. "No, it's too late. You never should have come here- or seen any of this. I was wrong. Just-leave me. I'm so sorry."
   "I'm not going anywhere," Inky insisted, standing her ground. "Also, I wasn't lying to you. Your artwork is important- your life is important, Inky. You're the only person who made me feel like I wasn't alone- my life was 27 years of hell and isolation before I met you,"  Thorn said, eyes unwavering. Inky knew then that he couldn't possibly be lying, no matter what horrors had transpired. "So how long has this been going on?" she asked, reluctant to hear the answer.
   "Since I was 22. When you opened the Red Void for that first time- in your room. I saw it, too. I'd had a sense that it was always around, when I was younger, but it was always a vague shadow in my mind." he paused, looking contemplative. "It was like a strange dream. I saw the vision first- the abomination in your closet, your forbidden creation- and I saw you, with your friends that night. How you had to lie about the blood you'd found in the closet," Thorn elaborated, telling Inky he'd had to cut himself to appease the terrors within the Red Void.
   "So why did you start killing people?" Inky asked, keeping her questions straightforward and to the point. "I didn't at first. The Red Void started then, and for several years I didn't harm anyone besides myself. You get so tired of that, Inky. I- experimented on rats, pigeons- things I could catch and sacrifice instead. One day, there was an accidental stabbing death in front of me- when the Red Void had opened in the Gallery during my first art show. I guess then I realized that the abomination- those creatures- prefer unwilling bloodshed to a willing sacrificial participant, and they feed off of death itself as well."
   "Does it have to be a human?" Inky asked, and he nodded. "Humans have the strongest life energy for them, more emotions to feed off of, and are more capable of fighting back. The abomination gets its power from non-compliance, and it gets very angry if you try to deny it what it wants." Again Inky felt guilty, responsible for opening the Red Void in the first place. Maybe if I didn't even exist, Thorn wouldn't have to kill people, this never would have happened, she thought, the idea that she was indirectly responsible almost worse than being the one wielding the blade.
   "How many people did you kill?" she asked quietly, looking down at the bloody floor. Thorn shook his head. "No- you shouldn't have to know that- it's been two years since the first time. I'm not denying I'm responsible for everything, I know what I did." Two years. Two years of doing- this, Inky thought, the awful image in her head. Maybe he can't even count how many people he's done this to... "Only two more after the accident and before Dani and Miranda," he answered for her. "I used to only have to do it once a year. Then, when you moved to the city, the Red Void's appearances intensified, became more frequent. I had to stop it somehow. I saw you trying to fight it, too." Thorn had walked across the room and was staring intently at one of his bloodied paintings on the wall.
   "Is that how you found me- at the Gallery?" Inky asked, remembering the first night they'd accidentally met, and under what circumstances. The terrible dream, the Red Void, and Thorn- staring at her with those intense dark eyes. "I wasn't lying about that, I guess  I sensed that I knew you somehow, before we actually met- but at first I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. I'm not the best in social situations because of how I've had to be," Thorn answered honestly, sounding defeated.
   "I didn't want anything to do with you- at first," she replied, "none of my friends liked you. They all warned me about you. Said that you were creepy but nobody was sure why. I didn't listen- and here we are." Thorn laughed humorlessly. "You should have listened. Stay away from broken people, Inky. I told you, it's too late for me." She wished that she could see his face, but he was still staring at the blood-painting. The body of Miranda remained motionless under the dark shroud on the tile floor. "I did enjoy our time together," he said regretfully.
   Inky was trying desperately not to break down crying again. "You're not broken though! I'm just as much to blame as you," she said angrily, hating watching him just give up after all they'd been through. Dani and Miranda weren't even your friends, a taunting voice said in the background of her thoughts. He only killed them because of how shitty they were at the art show- how they treated you. The sinister voice laughed mockingly. Of course you can't even destroy us, you're weak and you're upset someone else did what you should have. The abomination, once again trying to demolish any semblance, any scrap of sanity her deteriorating psyche had left to offer her.
   Silent tears ran down her face, and she tasted saltwater, recalling how before the murders of her colleagues, the beach was her favorite place to go. Especially at night, roaming amongst the driftwood and tangled, slimy seaweed. It's his fault you're afraid to go back, the voice said, replacing her thoughts with its own vile revelations. The real irony was that Thorn was incapable of killing her to close off the Red Void, and Inky couldn't bring herself to harm him either. She felt conflicted, her mind pulling away in opposite directions. Inky was tired, sick of her endless existential problems. She couldn't stand for it if Thorn killed someone again, yet the alternative wasn't all too appealing either.
   She sensed how much self-loathing and regret he felt over this, how he tried to avoid her, hide from her in this desolate dark building away from the rest of most civilization. Her heart hurt, and she felt the familiar heavy weight pulling her down. Uncertainty. Images of the times they'd been together flashed through her mind like a kaleidoscopic show: his hand holding hers, both of them covered in ink, the art show he'd taken her to, at Tapestry drinking gin and tonics, their night together under the rain and the stars. Walking through the field, how he stared into her eyes from the mirror in the forest...
   This isn't over yet, she thought, this time the voice in her mind her own. I'll figure out a way for us to destroy them- the Red Void will be extinguished, no innocent lives will be involved with this anymore. The voice in her head of the abomination laughed softly, almost inaudible. Remember that you will die, it replied. Inky ignored it, trying to focus on the reality, as harsh as it may be, that was in front of her. The dead body still needed to be dealt with- Inky didn't know what they were going to do about it. No! Her brain tried to remind her. Not they. Not you. It's his responsibility to clean up this- mess. She stopped herself, realizing she'd been about to pick up the knife, lying in a pool of blood. Don't help him, you idiot! she thought, staring at her outstretched hand as if it belonged to a separate person. Why not? asked the abomination, a condescending sneer in its tone. You're still technically an accomplice, though an unwilling one. "Stop torturing me," Inky said quietly to herself. The stab wound in her leg was beginning to make itself known again, with a dull ache that she felt to the bone.
   With growing horror, she realized that not only was it her blood on the clothes she wore, but also Miranda's. I'm going to have to put these clothes in the incinerator, she thought, suddenly disgusted. She saw that her hand was covered in ink and blood. Red and black stains, the colors of the void blended together on her skin. Inky shuddered, mind coming back to reality. "We need to get out of here," she told Thorn, who'd been seemingly in the midst of a dissociative state, staring at the wall. He turned to look at her. "What do you mean?" he asked blankly. Inky pointedly looked at the corpse on the floor. "You need to clean this up. Those detectives are still in town- and Cayson is asking everybody about you, too. They wonder where you go, Thorn. What you do when you disappear."
   She paused to collect her thoughts. "I know you were away on a 'business trip' to curate that art show. I've seen you work though- when you helped me with that project. It wouldn't take you that long to set up. You're too organized and meticulous for that. It didn't make sense to me, but now I know. I know what you were doing the times you disappeared, and the detectives are going to catch on sooner or later." Inky looked at him, frustrated that she detected no panic in his eyes.
   "I was on a business trip. I just didn't tell anybody when I got back," Thorn offered, "The Red Void is extremely unpredictable. I had to find- someone- and Dani was just there, and I remembered her reaction to my performance art piece. How disgusted she looked with me, and I guess it set off something in my head that I was trying to suppress. So I- I killed her, and gave her to the abomination. I'm so sorry you had to be there," he continued, looking guiltily at the scar on her still-outstretched hand.
   "When did you do it?" Inky asked quietly. Thorn looked away shamefully. "Before you came to see me- the second time. When I had cut myself- and you had the concussion. The night we- were out in the storm," he answered, confirming Inky's fears. How could this be the same person who killed Dani, Miranda, the others- when he's the one who- made me feel so alive, she thought. The constant mental war with herself was draining all her energy, and Inky could feel a creeping sense of vertigo throughout her body. She remembered his warning to her, that maybe she should be afraid of him, that he didn't want to hurt her. Maybe this was what he meant, she thought, feeling sad but somehow relieved. After all, he'd only tried to protect her, and perhaps this was the only way he knew how.
   It was possible that the Red Void had twisted and warped his mind, convinced him that this was the only way. Nevertheless, Inky decided that she would stay, that she would fight the abomination beside him, because despite the difficulties, the pain they both had to live with, Thorn was the only one in her life that made her feel less alone. She would fight this war with him, not the opposing side.
   Inky held out her blood and ink-smeared hand to Thorn, who looked at her in confusion. "I have to help you. I'm just as much to blame in this as you," she explained, taking his hand, pulling him away from the macabre paintings. "Please, Thorn. We have to do this together. I know this is wrong- fuck, we're definitely both going to hell, or worse- but I can't let you do this by yourself anymore, even after everything. Hell, I won't lie to you and say nothing's different now- it is, but I trusted you. I still do."  Inky stared at him, her grey eyes luminous with unshed tears. She noticed that once again, the ink on her skin had transferred onto his, that they both wore blood as well. Looking down at the shrouded body, she asked him- "What do we do next?"
   Thorn held onto her hand tightly, as if afraid she would change her mind and run away. "I have to take her to the beach- then clean up all this blood. I need you to go back to the Gallery and explain to Cayson that I'm busy with my other job- just make something up," he told her, instructions clear and precise. Inky nodded in agreement. "I understand. I'll try to distract everyone- at least for a day. Please try not to be gone longer than that- they're already getting suspicious," she said, relieved that he didn't want her to help him -get rid of the body. She tried to keep her feelings as detached as possible, ignoring the nagging guilt.
   "We're in this together now, Inky. You can't change your mind once this is over. It's going to be a part of your existence forever. Permanently. Are you absolutely sure that you can live with the facts of what I've done?" Thorn asked, a serious look in his eyes. She blinked, the unshed tear falling to the floor, lost in an ocean of crimson. "I understand. Yes," Inky replied, feeling another tear sliding down her cheek. Thorn reached out his other hand to brush the tear away, staring down into her eyes.
   Instinctively, Inky wanted to both run away from him and be closer, she froze, looking back at him in uncertainty. Apologetically, he let go of her hand, stepping away. "I'll deal with this now. We'll see each other again soon," Thorn said quietly, then "you can stay here tonight if you need to. At least clean up the blood."  Inky had forgotten again about the stabbed leg, her mind choosing random intervals to bring up the pain again. She nodded in understanding. "Thank you."
   Once Thorn had left, with Miranda's shrouded body in the back of the rental car, Inky tentatively looked down at the gauze-wrapped wound on her leg. It was fairly deep, a slash right in the middle of the thigh. Thick, coagulated blood still welled up from the cut if she bothered it too much. Using the knife on the ground, she sliced at the fabric of her jeans, freeing her injured leg from the irritating cloth. Hunting in another room, Inky found a brown plastic bottle of hydrogen peroxide, which she poured over the cut, the liquid forming small bubbles when it mixed with her blood. "Fuck!" she exclaimed, as it hurt like hell, a sharp, stinging pain that sang through her nerves.
   Inky wandered around the halls of the dark building, finally locating the small bathroom with a minimal, clinical-looking shower setup. She vaguely remembered being here before, washing off the mud and leaves the night of the storm. Peeling off the bloody clothes, she stood under the shower, the water cranked up as hot as she could stand it. Blood ran down the drain, rinsing away the unpleasant memories of the night. Inky wrapped herself in a large black towel, then gathered the bloodstained clothes in a black plastic trash bag. She'd have to get rid of the evidence, and planned to burn them in the Gallery's incinerator room.
   She re-bandaged her leg with more gauze, hoping that stitches wouldn't be required again, wincing at the memory of the needle and black thread going through her skin. Inky walked into Thorn's room, borrowing a long-sleeve black shirt that substituted as an ersatz dress of sorts. She sat down on the edge of the black bed in the corner of the room, staring at the window covered in thick blackout curtains. The red and white spotted orchid plant sat on the windowsill, and a few art magazines and weathered copies of National Geographic were on the black wooden dresser. Inky idly flipped through the reading material, waiting for her hair to dry. Briefly, she wondered if Thorn was coming back tonight. She stared at the metal alarm clock in the corner- it was almost three in the morning, yet insomnia had crept back in, infecting her mind like a plague.
   Lying down on the bed, Inky stared at the ceiling, trying to conjure up a restful state of mind. It was nearly impossible considering the circumstances, and the room was too quiet for her to relax. All she could think about was the pool of red in the other room, the smell of turpentine and coppery blood mixing together in the cold air.
   Inky wanted to just burn this place to the ground, leaving only ashes behind, emerging like a phoenix. A little over half an hour had passed, when fatigue finally took hold of her, releasing the grip of insomnia on her mind. She curled up on the bed, restless and tangled in the black sheets, eyes tired and unable to focus any longer. Inky fell into a deep, dreamless sleep- free from the void.