Turpentine & Vetiver

12. Reality -I am touched by your beautiful anxiety about life-Rilke

He watched from behind the black door as Inky looked around in apprehension. "Maybe this isn't real," she whispered, an uneasy look in her eyes. Thorn answered her quietly- "It's reality. Don't convince yourself otherwise." Inky stared around in disbelief, searching for the sound of his voice, which sounded disembodied from the wind. He opened the door slowly so as not to startle her- the last thing he wanted now was for her to run away again. Thorn stepped out from behind the door, staring out at her, trying to remain calm and impassive- despite the thoughts in his mind that suggested otherwise. It was easier to wear the emotionless mask, keeping his expression blank and devoid of any feeling. Although- as he stared at Inky, it was difficult to conceal the fascination and surprise he felt at seeing her actually here at his place.
"Why did you want me to come here?" she shouted, appearing as though she might indeed turn around and run. Thorn walked out onto the stone steps, and Inky backed away from him several paces. "Are you leaving already?" he inquired softly, staring at her. She shook her head, standing there defiantly in front of him, attempting to maintain eye contact. Thorn forced himself to look away first, staring down at the ground. "I can help you," he offered, looking back up slightly to see that Inky was still scrutinizing him; though her expression had changed slightly. He watched as she looked away, a contemplative look on her features.
What are you thinking about? he wanted to know, watching Inky in mild amusement as she began to slowly walk towards the dark building; then- avoiding eye contact- walked past him and through the door. He was ultimately confused- perhaps she actually wanted his help- or she'd just given up fighting her own mind. What was that strange look she gave him- fear; but there was also a suggestion of something else hidden behind her lead-grey eyes. After all, though she might be intimidated by him, there was something undeniably magnetic about the way her eyes met his- though she had broken eye contact first.
If he didn't know any better, Thorn would have thought that he sensed attraction, but he pushed the thought aside. Inky had only showed up to confront him about following her- chasing her across the beach in the dark. Or maybe- there was a slight but unlikely chance that she could possibly be interested in him as well. You still have no idea how I feel about you, do you? he thought, watching her disappear behind the black door. Maybe he could somehow convince her to stay, even if it was a manipulation of sorts- but he didn't feel right lying to her.
Again, the pervasive feelings- how was it possible; because after all, he was a psychopath, a cold-blooded killer- and yet she made him feel alive whenever she was near. He was breaking every rule of his mental control, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. I want you to stay here with me, Inky, Thorn thought in silent contemplation; a look of dark intent hidden behind his cold black eyes. I want you... Only you. How many nights I have been awake in the dark, thinking about you, covered in ink, leaving black handprints on my skin... In my sick fantasies, there is only us; nothing else matters, not even the Red Void. I've been thinking about you constantly- it's like a switch I can't turn off.
He paused outside the building for a few minutes, trying to calm his irrational thoughts, to no avail. Whenever Inky was around him, he felt as if he could no longer control the dark desires in his mind. Hell, she's probably wandering around in there, discovering all of my dark secrets. I wonder what she'd think about me if she found the photographs I've taken of her- she would most definitely run away for good. Thorn knew that Inky's friends had warned her about him, and yet she'd blatantly ignored their advice, driving here, following the coordinates to see him- for what reason? Perhaps it WAS because he'd offered to help her- but she'd run away that night; the fear in her eyes and written on her expression had been impossible to deny or ignore. However, they hadn't really had much of a chance to talk, and maybe she would change her mind.
Would you really, though? he thought, shaking his head. As many times as he tried to block out the unwanted thoughts; Thorn's mind tormented him- showing him images of the two of them together- lying on his bed, tangled in the black sheets; or covered in black paint and blood- his hands holding her thin wrists, or gently around her neck. Would you ever let me do that to you, let me fuck you- or would you be disgusted by me as well? Thorn adjusted the collar of his black shirt; though it was cold outside- even threatening sporadic springtime rainfall- these constant thoughts of them together made him feel overheated and slightly uncomfortable. Stop thinking about her like that- you pervert, he told himself- for what seemed like the thousandth time. It was no use, as his obsessive thoughts were always about Inky- instead of the sea of spilled blood- his own and others'; that he was accustomed to thinking of.
No longer did he want to kill her in cold blood, slit her throat as he'd done before- this was a completely different feeling altogether, darkly possessive- yet there was something else there too; a feeling that he couldn't quite name. Maybe just one time- you would allow me to touch you without the familiar look of disgust or fear- maybe you would even enjoy it... Thorn shook his head again at this far-fetched probability, dark hair hanging down over his eyes. As much as he wanted to, he knew that it was up to Inky to make that particular decision, and there was nothing he could do to convince her- as persuasive as he could be, if he really wanted to. Of all the things he had thought about doing- coercing her into any type of situation was not on his agenda. He sighed, following Inky into the building and closing the door- but leaving it unlocked.
   Thorn noticed that she was staring intently at the painting he'd just finished; eyes fixated on the wild vortex of uncomfortable colors, the juxtaposition of the gold frame against the charcoal grey wall. "What do you think about it?" he asked quietly, standing directly behind Inky- yet not too close. She tilted her head to the side, peering into the depths of the canvas- seeming more curious than he'd expected her to be. "It- it makes me nervous," she admitted in a shy voice, slowly turning around to face him, grey eyes meeting his. Thorn nodded in agreement. "Sometimes I can't stand to look at the damn thing, and I'm the one who..." he paused, lost in thought; staring at the wall behind Inky, dark eyes blank.
   He looked at her, feeling rather uncharacteristically awkward, and held out his hand. "I'm Thorn. Sorry for how we met- all of this. I don't really know how to do this," he explained quickly, vaguely gesturing around the room. He hoped that she wouldn't change her mind and decide to leave, and was pleasantly surprised when Inky reached out and shook his hand. Her eyes stared back into his in acknowledgment, and this time- he sensed no fear.
   "Inky. You already knew that, so I guess I'm here because I wanted to find out why you were following me- why you said you could help me." Thorn laughed nervously. I hope she doesn't know exactly the extent of me- following her, he thought. "I knew who you were through the Gallery- I'd seen you around before, but you seemed so quiet and antisocial like me, so I didn't try to approach you until- that night at the Artist's Loft," Thorn answered. He hoped his explanation would suffice, and didn't especially want to elaborate on any of the other details. I was- stalking you for quite some time, he thought, staring down at their hands.
   He noticed Inky was blushing slightly, and she tried to remove her hand from his. Thorn didn't let go- holding onto her hand possessively, seeing that she'd left smudged ink fingerprints on his skin. Well then... THIS is different. He stared into her face, trying to read her expression. "What's wrong?" Thorn asked her, letting go of her hand with great reluctance. He held up his hand, inspecting the ink stains. Inky smiled slightly, a strange look in her eyes. She looked almost proud of herself, which Thorn found amusing. You left your mark on my hand- I now have evidence you were really here. This is reality, he thought.
   "Would you like a drink or something?" he found himself asking her, then walked into the back room without waiting for her response. He returned with a glass bottle of his gin and tonic mix, and two drinking glasses. Thorn poured a small amount of the drink for each of them, handing a glass to Inky- his fingers accidentally brushing against hers once again. Absently, he held his hand up to the side of his face, unknowingly smearing the ink onto his skin. Inky smiled, an almost devious look in her eyes, and again Thorn wondered what was on her mind. He watched as she tried her drink, taking a small sip, making a disgusted face.
   "What is this- it tastes like turpentine!" she exclaimed, setting the glass down on the coffee table. Thorn laughed at her reaction, finishing his drink and pouring a second. "It's just a gin and tonic," he answered, amused at Inky's reaction- most people he'd met hadn't liked his drink of choice, either. "The common drink of psychopaths," he continued in a sarcastic tone, though the look in his eyes was serious, as if he was truly admitting this fact freely. Thorn watched as she tentatively sipped at her drink, giving him a cautious smile. I didn't drug or poison you, if that's what you're thinking... He stood up, going into the closet and retrieving a pair of metal folding chairs- another example of the awkward furniture that had come with the building when he moved in. They looked like they'd be more at place in a lecture hall or doctor's office- but Thorn wasn't picky about furniture since he wasn't home much anyway. That, and it was easier to clean up the blood, if that situation presented itself.
   He sat down across from Inky, handing her a green, cut-glass vintage ashtray- and though he personally did not smoke; he'd found it at an estate sale Cayson had dragged him along to. He looked over at Inky, at the seriousness in her eyes. "Would you like to tell me about it?" he inquired, and listened intently as she explained the vision, the recurring nightmares, and the subsequent insomnia she'd been suffering as a result. Thorn poured another drink; listening to Inky's side of things made him almost feel sympathy- though he knew that this was yet another ersatz emotion. However, he was truly interested in what she had to say, because it might help him make sense of his own experiences with the Red Void.
   "You aren't the only one who's seen this place- the void. Most who have seen it and survived have been driven to madness as a consequence," he said softly, staring at the drink in his hand, noticing more ink smeared around the rim of the glass. He noticed Inky shifting around in the metal chair, looking anxious and uncomfortable. She lit a cigarette, trying to avoid making direct eye contact with him. The smoke plume curled like a question mark, punctuating the silence.