Turpentine & Vetiver

13. Blood Sacrifices -the cure for pain is in the pain-Rumi

   "I saw the Red Void -that's what I call it- I first saw it as a child, all the horrible creatures inside I thought at first were only nightmares," Thorn explained. "You mean- it's real? All those terrible things are REAL?" Inky replied, a look of shock and realization on her face. He nodded. "That sculpture you created- it somehow serves as a proxy for the actual beings within- I saw you through the void, and you had no idea. That night with your friends- the blood in your closet- that was MY blood on your hands," he admitted darkly. She tapped the long ash from her cigarette into the ashtray, eyes wide in renewed fear- but not fear of him this time. "What do you mean- your blood?" Inky asked, staring at him in confusion.
   "I figured out that- the abomination requires a blood sacrifice- so I had to cut myself, to appease it. It feeds off of fear, insanity, death- and most of all; blood. In fact, that painting you don't like- has my blood in it." Thorn took another drink of his gin and tonic, noticing that he'd almost finished the entire bottle- which was quite unlike him. Being around Inky made him almost nervous, her close proximity to him was overwhelming. He stared at her cautiously, eyes level with hers. "Let me show you something," he said quietly, rolling up his sleeves to show her the crisscrossing parallel scars that ran vertically up the insides of both his arms; white lines that traced upwards from wrist to elbow. There was a reason he always wore long-sleeved shirts, even in the summer. I have to hide this from the rest of the world- they would never understand.
   Inky looked at him, but there was no disgust, or even pity present in her grey eyes- in fact, if anything- she looked sad. "Most of the time it keeps them away- I've become numb to the pain," Thorn told her, implying the scars were self-inflicted. He looked away shamefully. "Of course, one person can only contain so much blood..." He hoped she wouldn't ask for further explanation, as he was unsure what more he could say without implicating himself in something more sinister. "So how do I stop them from coming back without- doing that to myself?" Inky asked, gesturing at his scars.
   "Blood keeps them away. It doesn't really matter if it's your blood, mine, some animal or whatever- they just need a sacrifice to keep them locked away in their own realm." Inky gave him a perturbed glance, then stared past him at the blood-paintings hanging silently on the dark wall. Thorn thought that she was probably disturbed by this revelation, and remained silent. Inky appeared to be lost in her own thoughts, a melancholy expression on her features. Thorn wanted to tell her not to blame herself, that it was an accident- after all, she had not created the sickness already dwelling in his mind; it was not her fault he was a psychopath, a murderer.
   However- he couldn't very well confess to any of these things; she'd never understand that they were necessary sacrifices- and he'd chosen those who'd wronged him in some way or another, so they weren't exactly innocent. It was a grey area. Thorn saw Inky looking increasingly troubled, and now there were tears dripping silently down her face. Please don't cry- I don't know what to do when someone cries, he thought uncomfortably. "I'm so sorry," she said softly, words nearly inaudible in the vast grey room. "I didn't know- I didn't mean to do this..." her voice was pained, sorrowful- and she stared down at her ink-stained hands in despair.
   Thorn wanted to tell her not to cry, not to feel bad for him because he'd done so many amoral things already. Maybe he should be the one suffering, after all. "It's not your fault," he replied somberly, "I know you never would have done this on purpose." He pulled his sleeves back down to conceal the topography of scars, reaching his hand out to Inky. She slowly reached out and took his hand; blinking back unshed tears. "Will you help me destroy them?" she whispered, her voice small and uncertain. Thorn knew then it was what he must do- after all, he was destruction; and it had been almost predetermined that this was his purpose in life -despite his own ideology- he was responsible for destroying what Inky had inadvertently created.
   "I'll certainly try," he answered honestly- as he was unsure of how to even rid the world of the Red Void in the first place. None of his methodical calculations could have prepared him for this preternatural occurrence. She glanced up at him, as if surprised by his willingness to help her; the creator of the abomination. Her mouth curved up into a small, sad smile, and she reached out her other hand, placing it on top of his. "Thorn?" she said quietly, her voice hopeful. "Thank you." He looked up again, staring into her eyes- the strange dark grey that reminded him of November storms; slate-colored seas. Your eyes are my favorite color.
   A small crack of light filtered into the room, and Thorn realized that both of them had stayed up all night- time had passed strangely whenever he was around her. He could sense Inky had to leave soon, and tried to hide his disappointment from her; eyes going cold and blank once more. "You're leaving soon," he stated in an emotionless tone. She nodded in confirmation, eyes looking at him in a silent, wistful apology. "Promise me you'll let me know if- anything happens," Thorn insisted quietly. "You know where to find me." He watched as Inky stood up, looking into his eyes trustingly.
   He walked with her out of the dark building and into the bright sunlight, eyes unused to the sharpness of the brilliant blue skies. They awkwardly lingered in the driveway, as though uncertain about what their separation would mean. Inky spoke first, her grey eyes appearing remorseful. "Goodbye, Thorn," she told him quietly, getting into her beat-up black car. This time, Thorn could not hide the expression of abandonment and regret on his face; holding up his hand to wave before turning and disappearing from her sight behind the black door yet again. He heard Inky slowly drive away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
   I can't believe she actually listened to what I had to say, nobody ever wants to listen to me... I showed her my scars and she didn't turn away in disgust, if anything, she looked as though she blamed herself. Thorn didn't want Inky to leave, but he knew when he saw her again, things would be different. Perhaps she trusted him now, the fear in her eyes had since dissipated; the look she gave him still cautiously guarded- after all, neither of them really knew the other well enough. He laughed at the sudden realization he hadn't even given her his phone number, and felt foolish. Well, I guess she'll just have to come back and see me again in person, he thought slyly, excited at the possibility Inky would be visiting him again.
   Thorn remembered holding her hand, and stared intently at the black ink stains she'd left on his skin, smiling to himself. This is a start, at least. We'll see what happens next. He imagined what could happen if Inky actually felt an attraction to him as well, he had never had a real relationship. Is that what I want, now? This IS more than just an obsession; otherwise I'd just convince her to sleep with me, and then never talk to her again. If it were anyone besides Inky... He stared at the sunlight that bathed the grey room in a subtle gold glow, thinking that the contrasting colors would look pleasant together on a canvas. I only paint darkness and destruction- I can't paint something like that. The ominous painting loomed out at him from the wall- though it did appear less threatening with the sunlight spilling across it. He sighed contemplatively, then walked into the small kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee.
   He knew that he needed to take care of some loose ends at the Gallery- yet there was something else in the back of his mind as well; a growing darkness, an urge to end the life of someone he found quite disrespectful of Inky. Last time he'd seen her, she had laughed harshly at Inky's expense- even going so far as to mock the possibility of something terrible happening to her. You laughed at Inky- you're NOT a good person. You looked at me in disgust at my show before blood was even drawn. Perhaps your time here is about to end, sooner than you think.