Turpentine & Vetiver

25. Understanding

       -let everything happen to you
                   beauty and terror
                     just keep going
                   no feeling is final
                      — Rainer Maria Rilke

                            *   *   *

   As the sunlight filtered into the dark building through the small window, Thorn drank his coffee, mind conflicted. Because of his past trauma and negative experiences, he didn't trust anyone easily. He wanted to tell Inky how much she mattered to him, but he was afraid of how she'd react- his prior interaction with Isobel, who he'd ended up killing- started out well, but ended terribly. He felt stupid for allowing Isobel to get so close to him; in the end she had judged him as everyone else had done in the past.
   Thorn felt that Inky was different, though- obviously there was- something beautifully, poetically broken about her as well. She allows you to do whatever you want- she's seen your scars, your darkness, and she still hasn't tried to run. Yes, she was upset when she found out you'd killed people, but what sane person wouldn't be? She told you that she was in love with you. Idiot. Why do you deny her, deny these- feelings? It's obvious that you feel the same way. Thorn stared at the charcoal grey walls, his mind occupied by a singular thought- only Inky was on his mind now. Why did you fall in love with somebody as broken as me? he wondered, wishing that he could truly be the person she deserved- instead of this- empty fucking shell. A broken, morally void psychopath.
   My entire existence is a trauma response. I do love you, Inky- in my own way. It's just hard for me to feel, because I don't process emotions normally. I might not show outward signs of affection, but I would- brutally murder anyone who hurt you; even looked at you the wrong way. Hell- I've thought about killing Cayson next, based on what you've told me about him being a creep to you. Only I'm allowed to be a creep, and only because you haven't told me to stop. If you wanted me to leave tomorrow, I would. I hate myself, so it's all for you. We are connected, the parallels- it's only for you...
   Thorn wanted Inky to know how much he did truly -love- her, and was working on curating her art show at the museum. He felt that she was brilliant, extremely intelligent- and nobody had shown her the appreciation she truly deserved. What do I do to show you how I feel? I'm so damn clueless on these sorts of things. I love you- it's so strange because I've never loved anyone in my life, I'm a fucking psychopath, I shouldn't even be capable... until I met you. Am I merely projecting my own insecurities to try and convince myself you'll reject me? Subliminally, Thorn knew she would never do anything to hurt him, and he knew that he would follow her to the ends of the earth. We need to stop the Red Void- I want to destroy the abomination, but I feel that if I destroyed it; I would inadvertently kill you in the process. I am destruction after all- I know what my purpose is, though I will refuse it, if the outcome would bring harm to you in any way.
   He remembered the nights they'd spent together- in the rainy field for the first time, how many nights he'd been awake watching her, thinking obsessively about her. Then after, how she hadn't seemed afraid of the slight glimpses of darkness he'd showed her. After the incident with the abomination, she was so scared- yet she'd stood up to it, offering her own blood- and when he'd stitched up her hand, she'd barely flinched... and afterwards, they were covered in black paint, like the dark fantasies he'd had about her while he was stalking her. Then, the day in front of the mirror in the forest; it was... almost too much to think about now.
   Finishing his coffee, Thorn walked down the hallway to see if Inky was awake yet. They had to go to the Gallery, and Thorn had already made up his mind to tell Cayson he was quitting his job there- the museum paid much better, and he felt his work there was more appreciated overall. Besides- Cayson was a bastard, and Thorn hoped Inky would leave the Gallery and come work with him at the museum as well. He opened the door quietly, seeing that Inky was still there in his bed, the sheets covering her face. "Are you awake?" he asked, and she sat up, looking tired and disheveled, black hair stuck to the side of her face. "You're back," she replied, seeming surprised to see that he was awake so early. "It took me longer than I thought- I had to get rid of the rental car, too- you'll have to drive me back to the Gallery. I'm going to tell Cayson that I quit- I can't work there anymore," he explained, picking at a dead leaf on one of the orchids in the window. Inky nodded in agreement. "I was wondering about that," she answered.
   "I'll be working full time at the museum instead- if you decide you'd rather work there, let me know." He stared at her, feeling tired and out of sorts despite the strong black coffee he'd drank. No sleep for the wicked, he thought sarcastically, not looking forward to the inevitable confrontation with Cayson. Inky drove them back into town, and they went into the Gallery through the back door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, dragging the black plastic bags of bloody clothing to be incinerated. Once that task was complete, Thorn helped her clean up the blood in her office, then looked at some of the artwork she'd displayed in her workspace.
   There were several red and black paintings- her handprints apparent on the canvases; others had been adorned with dried flower petals, gold leaf, twine, and Bible quotes- seemingly innocuous until he read the entries from Revelations. Overall, it was pretty dark- only her artwork was done in a way that at first glance, it was quite beautiful instead of blatantly disturbing like his own work. "These are really well done- it makes you- feel something," Thorn told her, holding up one of the canvases for closer inspection. Inky gave him a shy look, then stared at the floor. "I can get these in the museum for you. Seriously, Inky. The world needs to see your artwork. Fuck what Cayson and the others think of your art- of you. They're the ones with a problem." He set down the painting- a deep red piece covered in black feathers and candle wax, lightly dusted in a fine gold powder.
   He helped her organize some paperwork before they left her office, then walked together down the hallway in silence. "What are you going to tell him?" she asked as they descended the dark staircase. "I'm letting him know that I'm quitting because of my other job- that I've been out of town due to work- he shouldn't have too many questions to ask after that. There's no real reason to pry into our lives. You can stay here if you want- or you can come work with me," he answered, completely serious. Thorn hoped Inky would choose the latter; the Gallery did not deserve to have her as an employee.
   Inky waited for a minute before replying to him, "I'll go with you. I have to finish up a few projects here- and I can't move from my studio for at least a year because of my artist's lease. I'll commute. I want to go with you." She stopped at the bottom of the staircase and stared up at him, a hopeful look in her eyes. Thorn held her hand as they exited the door, walking down the hall to Cayson's office. They hesitated in front of the door, Inky staring down at their hands. "Cayson is probably going to be royally pissed off that I'm leaving the Gallery for the museum job. This sorry collective excuse of pretentious assholes didn't appreciate my work anyway. It was always- too dark, too disturbing for the general public. I've wasted my time here- lost money, and only ended up with more enemies. The only good thing about this place was meeting you."
   Thorn knocked twice on the office door, and Cayson answered- a fake smile on his face showing too many teeth, blonde hair thinning and slicked down to the side of his head. Sleazy gaunt bastard always gave me the creeps, like a predator who would drug your drink if you weren't watchful, Thorn thought to himself. He didn't think Cayson was a fellow psychopath- but there was always something -off- about him. "Well, well. Look who finally turned up- the Gallery's prodigal son, so to speak." Cayson chuckled sarcastically, openly staring at Inky with a devious gleam in his eyes. Don't stare at her like that unless you want those damn eyes to be carved out of your skull and on the fucking floor, Thorn thought while trying to suppress the sudden, violent rage.
   Inky was still wearing only his shirt as a dress, and she stepped slightly behind Thorn as if trying to avoid Cayson. "I'm leaving the Gallery," he explained, voice devoid of emotion as he stared coldly at Cayson- who finally cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. "I'll be packing up my personal effects later in the week," Thorn continued, black eyes unblinking. Cayson seemed dejected, the disappointment obvious on his skeletal face. "So- just like that, then. I guess I should have realized when you were gone so much." He attempted to shake Thorn's hand in a pathetic farewell, which was refused- "I don't think so," Thorn said, staring at Cayson in disdain. "You're a bastard, Cayson. The worst kind. And stop looking at Inky like that- she works hard for you, and you're making her uncomfortable."
   They turned to leave, and Cayson called after them; addressing Inky. "So, are you going with him?" He sounded rather irritated at this point. Inky answered quietly- "I don't know yet," and Thorn sensed hesitation in her tone. "Well- keep in touch, I guess- or don't," Cayson replied, talking more to himself now than either of them. They walked away slowly, exiting the Gallery through the front door this time and into the harsh morning sunlight.
   "Sorry about all that in there," Thorn said apologetically. "I figured if I threatened him a bit you'd have a better chance for job security in case things don't fall through. Cayson is scared of me," he explained. Inky laughed. "Oh- I can't imagine why," she answered sarcastically. "I wanted to kill him when he looked at you like that," Thorn admitted, feeling darkly possessive; finding himself blatantly staring at her again. "Though I must admit I don't blame him." He watched as Inky awkwardly adjusted the hem of the shirt, it was indeed slightly too short to be wearing out in a public setting.
   "Let's get out of here," she replied softly, staring at some broken glass on the pavement. Thorn took her hand, leading her down the alleyway in the opposite direction of the Gallery. As they passed a small alcove cut out in the brick, Thorn had a rather impulsive idea. He pulled Inky into the small, enclosed space, standing in front of her as she stared at him with an expression of surprise. This time, she didn't look away, and it was almost as though she could read his intentions. "I want you to know- I'm not going to hurt you, Inky. Never. I don't have any ulterior motives- I'm not like that. Not with you," he said truthfully, then stepped closer to her.
   She looked slightly panicked at first, trapped in the small space with her body against his, and Thorn briefly wondered if this was a bad idea. Then, her expression shifted, and he observed a peculiar curiosity in her grey eyes. "I don't want anything else- just you," he admitted, staring down at her. "I know," Inky replied softly, pulling him closer. She maintained eye contact, and Thorn no longer sensed hesitation in her eyes. "Oh- and my shirt looks much better on you- but you should probably give it back," he said in a low voice, feeling her shiver as he slowly unbuttoned the shirt. Inky averted her eyes from his intense stare, and Thorn knew she had to be feeling rather self-conscious- though she wasn't trying to stop him. The black shirt fell to the glass-littered pavement, but Thorn didn't care. All that really mattered was that Inky still wanted to be with him, even after finding out the truth of his hidden depravity. She still allowed him to touch her, and he ran his hands across her pale skin, leaning down to kiss her and pushing her back up against the brick wall.
   Thorn knew that they could possibly get caught in a rather compromising situation, yet ignored the rational voice of protest in his mind. I don't care about who sees us, because the only one I see is you, Inky. He didn't think anybody would interrupt them anyway- not this early in the morning, and especially not in the alleyway outside the Gallery. Thorn held Inky up against the wall, the cold brick against her bare skin- though she didn't seem to protest. He couldn't stop himself from staring at her, he'd abandoned all rational thoughts now- a strange desperation taking over his mind. You have to tell her how you feel- after all, she forgives you for murder, doesn't she deserve to know? Inky stared back at him- no fear in her intense expression- only understanding.
   They were in a somewhat awkward position in the alcove, with Thorn's jacket partially covering Inky's exposed skin- though if anyone were to casually walk by, it was obvious what they were doing. Thorn had a strange feeling, like there was someone watching them- and indeed, a pair of eyes stared at them voyeuristically though unseen. Part of him didn't care if someone was watching- there was nothing shameful about what they were doing, though it was definitely not the most ideal location. He had never done anything like this before, and was somewhat intrigued by the possibility of getting caught, a look that must have translated in his expression- Inky gave him a small smile, like she agreed with his line of thinking; although rather obscene.
   She no longer appeared self-conscious, even while he was fucking her up against the rough brick wall in broad daylight. You don't fear me anymore, Thorn thought, holding his hand gently around her neck- the way he knew she liked it. I've killed people- held the knife in the same hand I'm touching you with, and you forgive me... I will always protect you from the Red Void, you never have to be alone again. At this moment, it felt like they were the only ones in existence, and he no longer felt the conflict, the dark impulses that plagued his mind relentlessly.
   Thorn took a shaky breath, leaning closer to her. "I love you, Inky," he said quietly; confessing his most carefully-guarded secret. "I've never allowed myself to feel much in my life- until we met." Inky leaned up to kiss him, her hands pressed against his skin under his shirt. She rested her head against his chest, as if listening to his heartbeat- normally calm, yet always erratic and nervous whenever he was around her. "Do you want to stay with me tonight?" she asked tentatively, as though expecting him to say no. "I'll stay anywhere with you," Thorn answered seriously, the idea of refusing her utterly absurd. They disentangled themselves from each other, Thorn watching the alleyway for onlookers while Inky re-dressed herself in his too-long shirt.
   They stepped out of the small alcove, and Inky lit a cigarette, her hair a messy tangle and face slightly red from their recent encounter. Thorn looked away, almost embarrassed, thinking about what had just taken place rather publicly. Before, he didn't even feel anything close to embarrassment; this was yet another strange feeling he'd recently discovered. Inky smiled knowingly, raising an eyebrow. She adjusted the borrowed shirt again, making sure it covered the white gauze that she'd wrapped around her leg. Thorn didn't want to ask about the injury- it hadn't seemed to be the most appropriate time, and she hadn't complained about it.
   "Do you still want your shirt back?" she teased, exhaling smoke and watching as it drifted up into the blue sky. Thorn shook his head in amusement. "No. It looks better on you- like I said earlier." Inky laughed, taking his hand. They slowly walked back to her apartment, the scenery around them seeming almost surreal- as though they had been somehow lost in time and misplaced in a different world. The light seemed much brighter than usual, the colors were more vivid around them, and Thorn wondered if this was a result of being with Inky; perhaps she'd lessened the darkness after all.