Saltwater & Ink

28. Broken *in absentia*

ONE YEAR LATER

   Inky couldn't seem to focus on anything at all anymore- artistically she'd felt crippled, she'd still tried to submit pieces to the Gallery since the terrible incident a year ago. Now that Cayson was gone, Mr. Elder had taken over, and he was generally too busy or apathetic to care. The detectives hadn't really known what to think of the whole serial killing case- since it had stopped abruptly that day in late July.
   Morris and the others had left her alone for the most part, and most of the time she was working or making art- which despite everything- she knew that Thorn wouldn't have wanted her to give up. There hadn't been any sign of the Red Void since that day, and Inky spent a lot of her free time in the desolate town in Thorn's strange dark building, praying that he would return. She chain-smoked, didn't sleep much- and when she did, she was haunted by the terrible visions she'd tried to block out when she was lucid.
The blood didn't take too long to clean up off of the tile floor- she'd had to scrub the walls, and study forensics to remove any trace evidence in case the police pieced everything together finally. More than anything though- Inky felt broken- the one person who'd been there for her, pretty much gave up everything for her, was gone. She wasn't even sure if Thorn was dead or not- though she didn't think so, not really. She wasn't sure if that was better or worse- to be trapped within the Red Void, possibly for an eternity.
I respected your darkness...because despite all the terrible things you've done- had to do- you actually cared about me- tried to help me- but to what end? Her isolation and anxiety grew- but was quickly replaced by the imagery of Thorn- hurting himself so she was able to be free of the void. She sat in one of the metal folding chairs in the middle of the room in Thorn's building, having gone there as a strange sanctuary away from her apartment and the sculpture of the abomination- which she had tried and failed to destroy. Her mind almost snapped whenever she was near the damned thing...
Inky took the small, sharp scalpel blade out of the rectangular black box on the glass coffee table. It glinted subtly in the low light of the room, and she set it down next to the white and burgundy spotted orchid. Her head hurt- she'd discovered Thorn's stash of gin and tonic mix, and had drank far too much- as she wasn't used to it. She didn't want to feel- everything hurt too much. The Gallery had given her several days off- and she hadn't been to the museum except to lie to Thorn's associates about his whereabouts, saying he'd gone on a trip to Europe. Luckily they left his office and personal effects alone, as he had been working on setting up her art show prior to the Red Void incident.
Drunkenly, Inky picked up the blade again, tentatively lifting it to the side of her arm. This can't be so hard to do- after all, Thorn had to do it all the time to keep the Red Void away... she set down the blade again, staring at one of the dark, disturbing paintings that Thorn had created. Inky took another drink of the gin and tonic- realizing she'd already had over half of the bottle. She almost wished that she hadn't been given extra time off of work, as it was the only thing that helped distract her. Again, no matter how much she tried to drink, dissociate- she always felt completely alone.
The year had passed in a depressive blur, and she'd isolated herself more than usual, hiding here in the desolate, dark building. Though it was summer, she always felt cold. There were no signs of the Red Void returning- but her insomnia had gotten worse than ever, and the night terrors that woke her up, thrashing and screaming into the darkness. Finishing the drink, she slowly stood up, feeling the room spin and tilt drunkenly around her. She lay down on the cold tile floor, staring up at the ceiling.
She shivered, the constant lack of sleep making her feel cold all the time. Inky wore one of Thorn's black button-down shirts, and though she'd lost weight and looked gaunt and tired, at least the dark color helped to disguise it. She unbuttoned the shirt, staring down at her pale figure, how the bones of her ribcage were visible. I wonder if I'd never created the abomination- opened the Red Void- would Thorn and I have even met? Would he have killed me, too- or would we be able to live a normal life together? Inky remembered the way he always stared so intensely at her, how at first it was unsettling. Now all she wanted was to stare into his dark eyes, the two of them together in the dark. She took the sharp blade off of the table for the third time, silently contemplating the way Thorn used to touch her. Tears ran down her face and onto the cold tile floor beneath her.
He's not here now- he might never return... Inky ran her hand over her own cold skin, feeling disgusted with herself. It's all my fault... She slowly sliced a thin blood line across the side of her ribcage, tracing the bone. She remembered all the scars she'd seen on Thorn- how he'd done it to himself- for her sake, or because of her, she wasn't sure anymore. Everyone who said that he was a creep, a psychopath incapable of love or feeling- "that was BULLSHIT!" she exclaimed to the empty grey room. Thorn might be a psychopath- even self-admitted, but Inky knew that he never lied to her about his true intentions and feelings for her.
She stared as the bright red blood slowly ran down her side and onto the floor. It didn't hurt much- but then again physical pain was nothing compared to the year of mental anguish she'd undergone since Thorn had gone into the Red Void. Please come back, she thought, feeling isolation taking a hold of her mind yet again. Inky tested the sharpness of the scalpel blade again, cutting a thin line over her heart. Again- she felt nothing as the beads of fresh blood rose to the surface.
   There was a strange buzzing noise in the back of her mind- an unpleasant yet all-too-familiar sensation. She could almost taste the static and ozone- yet this time it was different, because the Red Void was nowhere to be found. Inky watched the blood slowly run down from the cuts, wondering if somehow she'd made a voluntary donation to the dark entities within. An offering of sorts, perhaps... she almost heard a hideous laugh in her mind- the abomination? Still, there was no outward sign of the terrible dimension and the horrors that dwelled within it. Maybe I am truly losing my mind, she thought in morbid contemplation.
   Inky fell asleep on the tile floor, the dried blood sticking to her skin like an unwanted tattoo. The next day she woke up, mildly hungover, and washed the evidence of the self-inflicted injuries away. The hydrogen peroxide stung less this time, she felt as if she were walking in a dissociative haze. You need to wake up, a voice in her mind insisted. Thorn didn't go into the Red Void so you could destroy yourself in his place... She brewed a pot of strong black coffee in his odd, minimalistic kitchen- strangely barren of the usual appliances besides the expensive coffee maker, a vintage tea kettle, and a weathered cast iron pan. In the stainless steel refrigerator were bottles of water, tonic mix, and a few lonely condiments. Inky shook her head sadly at the lackluster assortment,  pouring far too much sugar into her mug of coffee.
   She lit a cigarette, taking a drink of the overly sweetened black coffee. The freezer was only slightly more promising- but it had been a year since Thorn had actually bought any groceries- so the freezer-burnt packaged meats were less than appetizing- not that she was really hungry anyway. There were also some questionable canned goods in a mostly-empty cabinet- the other contained an odd assortment of spices. Inky had noticed before that neither of them really seemed to eat much- subsisting on the constant fear of the Red Void. Giving up on the idea of sustenance, Inky decided to drive to the museum and look around his office again.
   So far she had no clue on extracting him from the Red Void, but being here amongst all of his personal belongings was far too depressing- she knew that he wasn't dead, just...gone. At first, she thought she was hallucinating when she heard a voice calling her name quietly. Inky turned around to confront the source of the disturbance. A dim red light glowed distantly in the hallway, and one of the lightbulbs overhead burst in an abrupt shattering of glass and filaments. The Red Void- is it back? Inky began to panic, hearing her name again. Is that you? she wondered hopefully. The ominous hum started up again, and once more she felt the visceral need to run.
   "Who's there?" she asked quietly, eyes rapidly scanning the room. There was no response, and the air around her felt suddenly cold and infused with dread. Inky grabbed her keys and briefcase, no longer wanting any confrontation with whatever might be lurking in the area. She locked the door to the dark building, hopefully locking away any unwanted entities within. Driving down the dusty road to the art museum, Inky contemplated what would have happened if she'd stayed to face whatever evils were awaiting her in the void.
   The art museum was mostly devoid of people, the parking lot barren under the grey sky. It had started to rain, the cool air filtering through her car window. Inky parked under an old oak tree next to the outdoor sculpture installation, and got out of her car, the scent of petrichor filling the atmosphere around her. She locked the door, leaving her briefcase and paperwork strewn in the backseat of the old Dodge. As she solemnly trudged through the rain, she thought,  art is an exorcism. Thorn had been a part of her life now for the better half of a year, and Inky was going to do her damnedest to return him to their reality. She refused to let him remain locked within the Red Void, being subjected to incessant pain and god only knew what else. From what she already knew about his life, he'd already endured too much past trauma already. No wonder he wanted everyone to die- or at least felt apathetic about it, she realized.
   In the empty museum, the bored-looking security guard was perusing a dusty stack of old, dogeared magazines. He scrutinized Inky as she walked past, the searching stare making her feel self-conscious yet again. Once she reached Thorn's office, she felt more secure, locking the door behind her as to deter any intruders. Inky went into the small darkroom, looking at the abandoned photographs hanging in the dim red light. Most were of architecture, landscape, and a few art gallery shots, city scenery. He had locked the box of photos he'd taken of her safely in his metal file cabinet, keeping them away from the prying eyes of the outside world. Inky opened the file cabinet, pulling out the black cardboard box with her name on it. She sat down in Thorn's desk chair, and hesitantly opened the box.
   The collection of photos of her stared back, and at the bottom was a small black Moleskine journal. She pulled it out from under the stack of photography, and with shaking hands, opened the journal. His name was inside, along with several ominous statements on the first page. It read:
PROPERTY OF: THORN KEIR, and the next page was entitled: MURDER POEMS- A COLLECTION OF DARK THOUGHTS, with his signature in sepia ink pen. She slowly opened it to the third page and began to read.

   THIS IS OUR DARK POWER
WE WHO CAN DESTROY THE WORLD
EVIL VISION AND EMOTIONAL WAR
WITH YOURSELF

BLOOD SHED IN THE STREET-
AN ILLEGAL DANCE
FIGHT OR SURRENDER
GIVE OR TAKE
CREATE POWER  
FEEL:   ANGER     HATE     HURT
CAST AWAY
PHYSICAL WILLPOWER
TEAR IT OUT- THAT VOICE OF
PROTEST

KILL ANYTHING
TRANSFORM TOGETHER.