The sky was cold and overcast; a lead colored haze permeating the silent atmosphere. It didn't feel like the beginning of summer, a seasonal changing dictated only by nature's repetitive calendar cycle. It had been several days since Thorn had seen Inky, and he recalled the time they spent out in the forest- near the old stone archway behind his property. He sat in the back of the taxicab, smiling to himself at the thought of the two of them reflected in the mirror. The scenery rushed by, banal and stagnant, and Thorn wrote in his black Moleskine journal, mind occupied by a singular thought.
MY THOUGHTS DISSOLVE
WHEN YOU WHISPER MY NAME
STARING BACK
THROUGH THE DARK
I WAS DEAD INSIDE
UNTIL OUR CONNECTION
IN YOUR EYES I AM
REFLECTED BACK
AND I NO LONGER HATE MYSELF
THE WAY YOU SEE ME
-THIS REFLECTION IN GREY-
THE ONLY MIRROR
I HAVEN'T WANTED TO BREAK.
He stopped by the florist's shop on the way over to Inky's apartment, selecting a bouquet of white chrysanthemums. Paying for the flowers, Thorn headed out the door and walked cautiously to the studio apartments, avoiding the judgmental glances of passersby. Inky answered the door, seeming surprised to see him there. "I- wasn't expecting you," she said quietly, staring up at him shyly. Thorn felt slightly awkward at showing up unannounced- another thing he and Inky had in common- but he could tell she was excited to see him by the look in her eyes.
"I was wondering if you would like to go to the art museum with me," he asked, handing her the flowers and the tickets to the museum opening. Inky looked down at her casual attire in mild embarrassment, picking at a fleck of blue paint on one of her sleeves. "Of course -just- let me get changed into something more- appropriate for the occasion." She stared at Thorn, who was wearing his charcoal grey suit and white button-down shirt, minus the bloodstains. He carefully arranged the chrysanthemums in a vase while Inky disappeared into her small closet; pulling an array of clothing off of hangers, shaking her head, dropping unwanted items to the floor in a messy pile.
Thorn sat at the small desk while she got ready, re-emerging from the closet wearing a midnight blue silk slip dress. The color resembled the night sky, which he found rather fitting. He tried not to stare, as he knew it made her self-conscious -though it was no use, and he didn't want to look away. Inky smiled at him in a secretive manner, her keys jangling in her hand. "I'll drive," she stated hesitantly, looking out the window to see if he had a vehicle parked outside. "I took a cab here," Thorn replied, almost as though he could read her mind.
Inky locked up her apartment door, and they descended the stairs together, Thorn walking behind her so that his blatant staring wasn't so obvious. The dark blue silk moved fluidly when she did, accentuating the lines and angles of her body- leading to inappropriate thoughts that were difficult to ignore. Thorn took a deep breath, attempting to avert his eyes, staring at the concrete walkway instead. She opened the passenger door of her battered black Dodge Charger, and joked as he closed the car door. "Sorry- I might get a speeding ticket- I drive like a maniac." Thorn raised an eyebrow- he didn't think the cops in town were all too observant- given that they'd barely taken notice of his illegal activities. In any case, Inky was telling the truth- she wasn't a bad driver- though she did go at least 10 miles above the suggested speed limit.
Thorn stared down at the burgundy floorboard of the car, rifling through the disorganized mess of vintage cassette tapes on the floor. He noticed the familiar black and white minimal cover of Joy Division's 'Unknown Pleasures' peeking out from the mix of miscellaneous tapes, brushing off the dust and inserting it in the tape deck. Thorn smiled at Inky as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel on route to their destination; black eyes hidden behind his sunglasses to avoid staring. She parked her old car outside the museum, and they held hands as they walked to the door.
A dark banner hung outside the museum to advertise the new exhibit, reading: SOMEDAY WE WON'T REMEMBER THE STARS- A Dark Artist Exhibition. The security guard took their tickets, giving Thorn a slight nod of recognition. The interior of the museum was foreboding in its own right- a long, narrow structure with the corridors painted in shades of black, maroon, and ash grey. Thorn walked with Inky down a claustrophobia-inducing hallway, and they stared at the artwork featured- some of the pieces originals; others convincing prints. Inky peered at the details in curiosity, grey eyes wide and illuminated by the overhead lamps. Thorn stood beside her, pointing to indicate a monochromatic, intricately detailed aquatint by Goya- 'The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters'. Inky shifted her eyes to the piece, which featured a sleeping figure surrounded by ominous-looking cats, bats, and owls depicted almost demonically.
"I like what this one represents. It's basically an analogy for his nightmare, but the symbolism is excellent. Sorry- that sounded really pretentious," Thorn explained, immediately regretting his choice of words. Inky gave him a slight smile, her face close to his. They inspected a few more of the canvases before Thorn showed her the sculpture hall. "I thought you would like this part," he said quietly, looking away from her for a moment. A strange feeling had come over his mind, as if he wanted to impress her but didn't quite know how. He wasn't sure how to form a relationship beyond what had been mainly physical- he was extremely protective of her; yet still felt as though something was missing- he wanted her to know that he did pay attention to her various interests; after all, he had been stalking her, and not all of it was for purposes of deviant observation.
They walked down the hall to a hidden set of stairs, then into a small red room painted to resemble the viscera of a large beast. White LED lights ran in parallel lines along the red carpeted floor, and the still air in the room had a distinct scent of burnt feathers- which was somewhat unpleasant. The sculptures ranged from strange, obtuse modern art pieces- dark foam composite in nondescript shapes, to geometric tangles of wire suspended from the ceiling above. A few large oakwood carvings stained with a black gloss sat perched around them, resembling ancient deities, creatures from a forgotten mythological realm. Thorn watched Inky's reaction, seeing the interest in her eyes, the almost reverent expression on her features.
"This is amazing," she murmured softly, holding his hand in the dimly lit room, their fingers entwined. She met his eyes, stormy grey staring into black, and he felt as if she could see into his mind, the thoughts and images that dwelled there. I want to tell you everything- I don't know why I just can't bring myself to do so... I know you were afraid of me at first, as I silently mistrusted you- yet this is our fate, and I cannot think of being apart from you now.
After they'd spent several hours perusing the exhibits, Thorn asked Inky if she'd like to go get a drink with him at Tapestry. He had been trying to avoid the area- the detectives were nearby, and there was still something he had yet to mention to Inky- what dark deeds he'd been up to for the past several days. There's an incapacitated and terrified captive in the basement of the lighthouse. She's still alive, unfortunately- but not for long. Soon, it will be your time to join the abomination as well, Miranda...
Inky drove them back into town, parking her car outside her apartment. Thorn accompanied her to the bar, taking her hand in his as they crossed the street. Inky pushed open Tapestry's door, eyes scanning the room for any interlopers. She'd made mention to Thorn about a confrontation between herself and her former friends- apparently they didn't like him much- that was perfectly clear. Inky had defended him, chosen his side rather than that of people she'd known far longer. Thorn wasn't sure if he was flattered or secretly sad for her- though she had said they never really took an interest in her art, and made her feel invisible. I would never make you feel like that, Inky. You're all I see now, it's all for you... He didn't have the mindset now to kill her two former high school friends, the twins- however; her hypocritical colleagues and associates would do just fine for purposes of luring the abomination away from her.
As they walked through the front door, eyes rose up to stare at them in silent judgment. A few of the men in the bar leered at Inky in her midnight blue silk, and she averted her eyes in an embarrassed gesture. They made their way to a black leather booth in the back area of the bar, away from the main stage. Thorn stared back at the curious patrons coldly, eyes filled with condescension and disdain. How dare these disgusting people look at her like that- she's already self-conscious- first they make her feel invisible, then they try to force her into their filthy spotlight, he thought, black eyes staring until the unwanted onlookers turned their gaze away. He reached his arm protectively around Inky, nodding at the bartender to bring two gin and tonics. They sat across from each other, waiting for their drinks to arrive.
The bartender brought their drinks shortly, and they discussed the art exhibit while they drank together. "There's a certain darkness to it all- but it's real," Thorn explained when Inky asked about his interest in the art. "People just try to deny it, keep it away from the populus. Whenever someone shows it, or deviates from what's considered normal, it's deemed wrong." He gave Inky a serious look, trying to gauge her reaction. She stared at him from across the table, drink in her hand, eyes focused only on him. Interested- in what he had to say. "I've been working part-time at the museum now, when I go on business trips. I helped set up the show we just went to, and next time, I really think you should contribute one of your pieces." He stared back at her, being completely honest.
Inky shook her head, messy black hair falling in tendrils around her eyes. "No- nothing I have is good enough yet. I can't even get a damn Artist's Night here. Maybe when-" Thorn cut her off, unable to comprehend or validate the false ideas others had spoken about her. He grabbed her hand, staring back into her sad, grey eyes. I can't stand how those bastards made you feel- destroy any of your self esteem and what confidence you had left. I know how talented you are, Inky. One day, you'll agree with me.
"You can't be serious- those elitist bastards are so hard to work with. If you want to, you can come and work with me at the museum." This last part he added somewhat nervously, looking at her from behind a layer of black hair that had fallen across his eyes. He stared at her intently, wanting to kill anyone that had ever made her feel like less of who she was, who'd taken advantage of her hard work and ignored her efforts. Inky's expression changed, and Thorn could see exactly what she was feeling at this moment- she indeed felt the same way about him. He was about to confess to her what was on his mind- what he'd wanted to say to her so many times but could not- when their conversation was rudely and abruptly interrupted by a beer glass slamming down onto the table between them.
Emma stood there, swaying drunkenly- how she'd had this many drinks and not been cut off, Thorn had no clue. Her brother Evan stood behind her, looking away awkwardly, hands behind his back in halfhearted defeat. "Just the people I didn't wanna see tonight," she slurred, voice malicious and openly spiteful. The strong scent of whiskey wafted off of her like a cheap perfume, and Thorn made a face of disgust. Emma's eyes were watery, the bloodshot appearance in stark contrast with their light green color. Her makeup was smeared across her puffy cheeks, skin blotchy and red, blonde hair a tangled mess- looking like fried straw. "Miranda's missing now," she stated flatly, sniffling and leaning over their table.
Inky cringed visibly, and Emma turned to her with an accusing glare. Thorn wanted her to go away, he'd wanted tonight to be for Inky- not ruined by her former best friend being a wasted mess. Emma blinked drunkenly, focusing her teary eyes. "Here you are- instead of caring about your old friend- you're here sleeping with the enemy," she pointed a finger at Thorn. "Fucking traitor," Emma hissed, leaning down further and nearly spilling Inky's gin and tonic.
"Miranda wasn't really my friend," Inky replied quietly, trying in vain to be non-confrontational. Emma sneered drunkenly, standing her ground. "That doesn't really matter, Inky- we all tried to be your friends, even after all the weird shit- and you just cut us all out of your damn life, because you didn't like the truth." She shot Thorn a dirty look, eyes filled with inebriated rage and loathing. He calmly drank his gin and tonic, attempting to ignore Emma. I'm used to everyone disliking me- however, it's normally not this direct and upfront. The smarter ones are a lot more passive-aggressive.
The bartender cast a suspicious glance at their table, then resumed business as usual. Inky sat up straighter in the booth, grey eyes turning cold and dark- an anger Thorn had never seen replacing the defensive look on her features. Well then- this should be interesting... He tried not to smile at the barely suppressed rage in Inky's expression- she was angry at Emma in his defense- nobody had ever taken his side in anything before.
"Leave. Us. Alone." Inky responded coldly, staring back into Emma's hateful green eyes. "Oh, I don't fucking think so. Not this time. Miranda is missing now, and at first it was Dani, and you are always just so..." Emma paused, slouching down to eye level with Inky, and Thorn wanted to leave this whole situation. He was starting to feel on edge, unlike himself, dreadfully close to becoming unhinged with a blind rage. Emma continued her tirade. "Miranda's my girlfriend, you would do the same thing if -he- went missing out of nowhere," she turned to Thorn again, staring evilly. He quickly finished his drink, looking around for a means of escape. "This is none of your business, Em. This has nothing to do with you. You're the one who stopped talking to me, and I don't understand what it is you want from us." Inky's voice was calm, though Thorn knew her hands were shaking under the table.
Emma pointed her finger at Inky accusingly, condemning her. "Oh... oh- so there's an US now- well isn't that adorable," she muttered sarcastically, rolling her glazed eyes. Thorn stood up from the table, staring at Emma with eyes devoid of emotion- it was easy now to put on the mask of sanity- though inside, the rage was building; repressed yet infinitely lethal. "Just let us leave, please," he said politely, remaining in complete control. Emma laughed humorlessly, drunkenly shoving him backwards, and Thorn wanted to slit her throat right there. You drunk little bitch- you're damn lucky I'm out with Inky- I don't want to ruin her night any further, he thought, suppressing the murderous urges once again.
"Why do you want to leave so soon, asshole? I don't know what the hell she even sees in you- everyone else knows you're just a creepy, fucking, perverted psycho." Thorn just stared at her- nobody since Isobel had confronted him so boldly- let alone so publicly. He wasn't sure how to properly react without the possibility of bloodshed, and looked nervously around the room. Emma picked up her abandoned beer, sloshing it over the side of the glass. She took a small swig, stumbling unsteadily with crossed eyes. Without warning, she stood up straight, stared at the two of them again, and hurled the glass as a makeshift projectile onto the center of the table. There was an explosion of foamy beer and broken glass, most of which had unfortunately gotten on Inky.
Evan quickly removed his drunken sister, and Thorn stared at the scene in disbelief. Inky's hair was soaked in beer, her silk dress as well, and a small shard of glass was protruding from her skin near her collarbone. She sat in shock, blood slowly trickling from the cut and down to the neckline of her dress. She looked down, appearing dazed. Thorn leaned across the table, blotting the blood trail away, staining his white shirt once again. He carefully removed the sliver of glass, setting it on the table.
"I'm so sorry, Inky- I didn't think that she'd actually do that to you," he said softly, watching as Inky attempted to finish her drink- ice cubes melted into a watery puddle. "Let's just go," she said flatly, standing up and pushing the drink aside. She handed the bartender some crumpled bills, avoiding eye contact as they exited the bar. Thorn put his arm around her shoulders, noticing the bright crimson bloom of Inky's blood on the sleeve of his shirt. They walked quickly back to her studio, wordlessly disappearing behind the metal door.
Inky dismally stared at the blood on her dress. "It'll wash out with a little hot water," Thorn told her, speaking from experience. Inky looked back at him, the disappointment from their ruined night obvious in her eyes. Thorn waited while she changed back into her more casual clothes, then called a taxi for them to go back to his place. "I don't want you to drive when you're upset," he said quietly, though she hadn't asked. Thorn wanted to be as far away from Tapestry and that town as he could right now, because perhaps their evening together might be salvageable after all. They reached the dark building, and Thorn made them both another drink once they were safely behind the closed door. They sat at the glass coffee table, drinking their gin and tonics in silent contemplation.
Later, Inky was sitting on the bed, reading one of Thorn's tattered philosophy books, staring intently at the pages. Thorn sat behind her, staring over her shoulder distractedly. Whenever she was this close to him, his mind wandered down corridors of the inappropriate. He smiled secretly; an impulsive, devious idea coming to mind. I wonder what your reaction will be- if I... distract you. He slid his hand slowly across her upper thigh, then gently across her hip. Inky was ignoring him thus far, eyes fixed on the pages in front of her. Slowly he moved his hand to underneath the waistband of her black jeans, sliding his fingers down, her skin warm under his fingertips.
Inky made a small, involuntary sound, leaning back- her back pressed against his chest, and he could feel her heart rate growing faster. She was still attempting to read the book, which he found simultaneously amusing and a turn-on. We'll see how long it will take for you to put that book down, Thorn thought, hearing her inhale with a shaky breath. Slowly, deliberately, he traced small circles against her skin, enjoying her physical reaction to his touch, as it was clearly evident that he was indeed distracting her. He felt her body twitch slightly, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder, exhaling sharply, finally setting the book down on the bed. Her thin neck was exposed, and Thorn carefully rested his other hand against the pale skin, feeling her erratic pulse.
The way Inky responded to his touch every time they were together made him feel alive, and Thorn wanted her to understand this feeling. He slid one finger inside her, and she closed her eyes, biting her lip. Thorn could feel her body press closer to his, and Inky wrapped her thin fingers around his wrist, holding his other hand to her throat with a slight pressure. Thorn was still mildly surprised that she enjoyed this- however, it did excite him to be in control, to hold her life in his hands. He could just as easily snap her neck; kill her by strangulation- however this was not his intention at all. Not anymore- ever since the night out in the thunderstorm, how she stared up at him with those trusting grey eyes- his favorite color; she wanted him to touch her, she wasn't disgusted or deterred by the self-inflicted scars he wore on his arms like a curse.
Oh Inky- if only you knew how I followed you, watched you like a creep for weeks before we actually met. All I ever wanted was to get to know you, because I sensed you were like me in some way... Thorn kissed the side of her neck, her skin tasted like flower petals and salt; and Inky held onto his wrist tighter, her short, ink-stained fingernails digging into his skin slightly. He didn't mind- in fact, he welcomed the pain- if it came from her. She trembled slightly, her other hand gripping the black bedsheets, her breathing irregular. I wonder if you'd still let me touch you like this if you knew all the atrocities I've committed, Thorn thought darkly, doubtful she'd even stand to look at him again. I must never tell you- and you will never find out. You're far too important to me now, you're all I have left.
An intense feeling, dark and possessive, came over his mind, and he knew that if anybody else tried to touch Inky- he would kill them. He'd never hurt her, though- even if she ended up hating him, because she had changed something inside his twisted mind, untangling the strings of insanity, calming the violent rage. Thorn pulled her closer, listening to her uneven, shaky breaths as he touched her, his mind racing with explicit thoughts. The philosophy book was lying abandoned on the bed, his distraction having worked.
Inky's eyes were closed, and Thorn stared intently at the expression on her face, knowing he had this effect on her- after wanting to be with her for so long- was extremely satisfying. He trailed his fingertips softly along her collarbone, feeling her shiver beneath his hands. Her responsiveness to his actions was almost too much; he wanted to push her down on the bed and fuck her right then and there- but he tried to control his dark impulses, as he was interested in Inky's reaction to how he was touching her. Thorn wanted to provoke her into initiating their interactions again, he was desperate to know if she wanted this as badly as he did. Inky opened her eyes, staring back at him with an inviting gaze. "Thorn- please fuck me," she whispered, her voice shaky and sounding broken. Inky pulled him closer, awkwardly trying to remove her clothes.
The abandoned book slid to the floor, a black and white photo falling out of its dog-eared pages. Inky was breathing heavily, grey eyes staring back at him full of intense desire. They both hastily removed the unwanted layers of their clothes; black, white, and grey discarded carelessly on the bedroom floor. Inky pulled him down on top of her, running her hands across his back, inviting him to continue. Unlike some of their previous interactions, Thorn tried to be careful this time- Inky seemed to bruise so easily and at times he did feel bad that her skin was decorated with the purplish-grey markings of his handprints. She still had a small cut near her collarbone from the glass that drunken Emma had thrown at her, and it had taken all his power to suppress the rage and not murder her former friend right there. How dare you hurt Inky, he thought angrily, staring at the barely-healed cut.
"What's wrong, Thorn?" she asked quietly, noticing him looking at her intensely. "I'm just- upset that you got hurt earlier, that's all," Thorn replied, gently tracing his hands over her exposed skin. "I'm okay- really," she said reassuringly, her hand soft against the back of his neck, cold fingers gently touching his hair. Thorn sighed in frustration, focusing his thoughts on Inky, forcing the murderous thoughts of protest aside. Even though he wanted to, he couldn't very well kill Emma- as she was one of Inky's first friends. Besides, Inky's hands on his skin did somewhat calm his anger, and he stared back thoughtfully into her eyes.
I would do anything for you, he thought, knowing that she'd admitted her feelings for him- he felt a strange sense of -guilt?- not being able to tell her the truth. I love you, too, Inky- I just don't know how to tell you. I feel so closed-off and guarded all the time. I didn't even think anyone could make me feel this way... I wonder if you'd still love me if you could see the truth, the terrible things I've done, even if some of them were for you. I feel unworthy of- anything you feel for me, he thought darkly; wishing his mind would shut up, stop the intrusive cycle, and allow him to have just one night alone with Inky without these constant thoughts plaguing him.
Inky looked up at him through the veil of dark hair that partially covered her eyes. Her body still felt slightly cold beneath his, and he pulled the black sheet over them, trying to protect her. He thought about how strange it was that his obsession with her had turned into this, the complete loss of control he felt now- it was like falling, drowning in an endless sea. I belong with you now, Inky- we are the parallels, and nothing will ever stand between us, or I will destroy it myself, he thought, feeling her rapid heartbeat under his hand. Thorn leaned down to kiss her, tasting gin and jasmine tea. He remembered the first time he'd seen her at the Gallery, and how he'd followed her incessantly until the day she finally decided to track him down using the coordinates he'd provided. She was intelligent, talented, strong-willed in a quiet way; and the more Thorn got to know her, the more he noticed his obsession turning into love for her- which he hadn't realized he was truly capable of. Perhaps he wanted to destroy everything else- but he'd never let anything happen to her.
Afterwards, he confessed to Inky that he had to go on another business trip, and he reluctantly drove her back to town, to her apartment. I can sense that the Red Void is growing closer- I will stop it from harming you by whatever means necessary, he thought darkly. It was getting late, and Thorn didn't want to leave Inky- he would have rather stayed with her tonight- but she'd already agreed to go back with him after the altercation at Tapestry, and they'd spent several hours together at his place trying to forget the unpleasantness of the evening's end. At least he'd taken her to the museum showing- so the night wasn't a total loss- and what had taken place just an hour ago in his bedroom... "I'll miss you," Inky whispered, staring at him almost shyly. He held her hand; looking back at her wordlessly, afraid to break the silence, then watched as she walked up the dark stairway of the apartment building, disappearing from his view. I'll miss you, Inky... Thorn stared at his hands, at the ghosts of the ink stains she'd left on his skin.
Thorn woke up early the next morning, and knew without a shadow of doubt that soon, he was going to have to kill Miranda. I hate lying to Inky- I'm not gone on a business trip the entire time- it doesn't take me that long to finish any of my projects... The fact of the matter was, Miranda had to die- he'd selected her as a target long before he'd met Inky- she'd irritated him during the art shows, spoken badly about his artwork, and insulted him behind his back to anyone who'd listen. Not that it really mattered- this was a somewhat petty and passive-aggressive way to ruin someone's reputation- no; what truly aggravated Thorn was the fact she used his art shows as a way to attempt notoriety- using his art career to make a name for herself. She was entitled, a spoiled, pretentious rich girl with the same bland, recycled ideas over and over again. Too obvious, no real substance.
He packed a suitcase for the business trip, including a few essentials: the black Moleskine, a few philosophy books, and a set of disposable gloves and a plastic-handle scalpel in case anything went awry. I don't expect this should take more than several days- a week at the most. Once this museum project is over, this research paper for the Gallery, and- disposing of Miranda, I can resume business as usual. As he zipped up the suitcase, the black and white photo fell out from the pages of his philosophy book once again. Thorn picked up the photo, which he assumed Inky hadn't noticed when she was reading the book earlier.
Inky's face stared back in black and white; in the photograph she was leaning out the window of her studio, smoking a cigarette in the rain, the wispy clouds of smoke surrounding her pale face like a film-noir halo. Her eyes were focused intently on something in the distance, just out of the frame, and dark paint stained her hands and the side of her neck. This is all for you, Inky. I don't expect you to ever understand- hell, I'm not even sure if I do. Either way- the Red Void is not going to win. I won't allow it.
YOU ARE READING
Turpentine & Vetiver
Mystery / ThrillerBook 2 in the Red Void Series, parallel to Saltwater & Ink. Takes place in the same time frame, but from Thorn's point of view. AN: Please read Saltwater & Ink first or it will be out of context/spoilers.
