Turpentine & Vetiver

26. Haunted -invisible threads are the strongest ties- Nietzsche

Inky's studio was somewhat of a mess when they arrived; half-used tubes of paint on the stained drop-canvas, glass jars full of water-warped paintbrushes, ink stains on multiple surfaces and scrap metal and other art detritus piled in one corner. Thorn tried not to stare- he instantly wanted to organize everything for her, as it would be vastly less complicated to find her supplies while making art. The sculpture of the abomination stood shrouded in the back of the room, its malignant presence like television static in Thorn's mind.
"Sorry about the mess," Inky said sheepishly, indicating the room around them. Thorn inspected her latest art piece- a painting composed of layered red acrylic paint, black candle wax, feathers, and a length of ruined cassette tape reel. There was a knife slash in one of the lower corners, reminiscent of his own work- though she'd explained it was damaged in shipping by a box-cutter. She had installed red lights behind the canvas, which gave the piece an ominous tone. "It's part of the process," he replied, indicating the art mess surrounding them. "Besides- I'm sure that my place was worse- what with- you know." He looked away uncomfortably, regretting his casual mention of blood, and even more so- his comparison of Inky's art-strewn studio to his crime scene. "These are amazing," he said, changing the subject quickly. He stared at another painting- an abstraction of red paint, black ink, and what looked like her own blood on a small white canvas.
"I could get you an art show at the museum- it would take a week or so to set it up, but I think that the world needs to see your work," Thorn told her, inspecting a waterlogged paintbrush in the jar nearby. "I don't know," Inky replied, sounding insecure once again. "What are you afraid of?" He stared at her, trying to convince her to see her artwork the way he did. Inky sighed, "it's complicated," she answered vaguely. "Most things are. Nobody's going to be judging you- I work there now, and the museum is definitely a better place to show your work." She nodded, finally seeming to agree. "Okay. I'll get some artwork together- just let me know, I guess." She looked away from him again, and Thorn could sense there was something bothering her. "What's wrong?" he stared intently at her, trying to read her expression.
"The paintings- I feel like the abomination is getting closer every time I paint something, and I don't know how to stop it. I don't want you to have to- you know," Inky explained, eyes meeting his reluctantly. "It's like I opened up some fucked-up Pandora's Box and I can't put it back." Thorn shook his head. "Don't stop creating things, Inky. I won't let the Red Void hurt you- no matter what it takes. I'll figure out a way to stop it." He stared across the room at the shrouded form of the sculpture, trying to formulate a plan.
Inky sipped cold jasmine tea from a large indigo-colored mug, staring at him in concern. "Are you sure that they're not going to find any evidence of- you know," she asked, refusing to give a name to the murderous act he'd committed. Thorn stared back solemnly. "Of course not- that first time was an accident- I didn't think that the Red Void would open where it did. Besides- the sea erases everything- and I was more careful this time." He watched Inky's expression changing at his calculated, detached explanation, then noticed her face turning slightly red.
Are you thinking about- earlier today? She turned away, attempting to hide her face. "Did that make you uncomfortable- what we did today?" Thorn asked, an amused smirk on his face. "No- I just- I've never done anything like that before," Inky replied nervously, and Thorn couldn't help but laugh. "Neither have I," he answered honestly. He didn't know what else to say to her regarding the matter, and watched her as she halfheartedly sorted some of the art supplies.
Later that evening, Thorn was feeling slightly fatigued from sleep deprivation, though he wanted to spend time with Inky before he had to return to work. "There's somewhere I want to show you," he said quietly. Inky looked at him in mild surprise. The last time he'd taken her to the forest, then the art museum... He'd planned on taking her to one of his favorite places, but had to wait until after dark. "I'll drive," he insisted. They left her studio, and Inky got into the passenger seat of her car, handing him the keys, seeming slightly apprehensive. Thorn smiled to himself, he'd been stressed out from work and the events of the previous days- especially after the business trip. He hadn't been able to spend much time with her, and now more than ever, couldn't think about anything else.
"Here, I have to put this on you- I don't want you to see where we're going," he said, using a thin black scarf he'd found in her car as a blindfold. Inky laughed nervously. "You're not going to take me out somewhere and kill me, are you?" she asked, only half-jokingly. "Of course not- but it has to be a surprise." He drove them out of town, passing the art museum, then driving up a hill where the large white building loomed formidably at the top, a giant telescope at its rooftop. Inky pulled anxiously at the makeshift blindfold. "Hey- no peeking. We're almost here," Thorn said impatiently, parking the car in front of the observatory. He helped Inky out of the car, and led her towards the door of the building, handing the tickets to the tired-looking man guarding the ticket booth. "Can I look now?" she asked, stepping through the door. "In a minute, be patient," Thorn replied.
   They walked down the long hallway into a dark room, the walls painted to look like the night sky- filled with constellations and exaggerated depictions of comets and planets. The room had several charts showing where to look through the telescope. "Okay- now you can look," he said, and she took off the scarf-blindfold, staring around the room in amazement. "I've- never been to an observatory before," Inky replied quietly, gazing at the starry walls. "I've been wanting to take you here for a while." Thorn had planned this before his last business trip, before she'd found out about everything. She stood beside him, looking at one of the murals of the cosmos, and he ran his hand through her soft, ink-colored hair. "Come watch the stars with me," he told her quietly. Inky looked up at him, grey eyes shining in the dimly-lit room. Thorn held her hand as they walked up the stairs to the rooftop of the observatory.
   He thought that Inky looked so happy she might almost cry, and seeing this made him feel something strange. You are the only one who makes me feel anything, he thought to himself. Earlier that day, in the alleyway- he had confessed his true feelings for her, had told her that he loved her- which was the truth. He'd admitted to having emotions- and it hadn't caused his world to fall apart. Inky never judged him, even with all the darkness in his mind. Thorn had thought that she'd leave him after seeing what he'd done to Miranda in the name of the Red Void, but she'd stayed with him, even allowed him to touch her again. His mind flashed back to earlier in the brick alcove after he'd quit his job at the Gallery, how she'd looked into his eyes with no fear or regret.
   I do love you, you've accepted my darkness, and I would do anything for you, he thought, following Inky up the staircase to the quiet, dark rooftop. The sky overhead was a sea of midnight-blue velvet, the stars shining brightly in contrast. He'd always wanted to take her here, he felt that nobody had ever really treated her how she deserved; and she'd been alone like he was- even when she was surrounded by others- they acted as if she were invisible. I see you. You are so important to me, you're all I see now- only you can help stop the Red Void with me. I only want to be here for you, now my life finally has a purpose other than destruction...
   They watched the stars together for a while, identifying the constellations through the large telescope. It was getting late, and Inky offered to drive them back to her apartment. "You look too tired to be driving right now," she insisted, and he returned her keys without complaint. "I haven't slept in a while," Thorn admitted, unsure of when he had actually gotten any rest. Before they left the observatory, they wandered around the gift shop, and Thorn bought Inky a small kaleidoscope covered in celestial patterns and historical artwork. She stared through the telescope-like tube, seeming to be quite fascinated with the shifting patterns and colors. "I had one a long time ago, but it broke," she explained when she caught him staring at her in amusement.
   Inky drove back into town, and they walked up the flight of stairs to her apartment. "Sorry I don't have an actual bed," she complained, adjusted the awkward grey convertible couch-bed. "I'm so tired it doesn't matter," Thorn told her truthfully, feeling a familiar vertigo. "I've had trouble sleeping lately." Inky lay down next to him, the two of them barely fitting on the obtuse piece of furniture. "I really enjoyed our time together today," she said softly, her hand resting on his. "I did, too. There's something else I want to show you tomorrow," Thorn answered.
   The next day, Thorn explained he had to go to Tapestry to collect some of his belongings. "It's all backstage stuff- if you just want to wait for me outside- in case one of them is there." He definitely did not want Inky to have another ordeal with her former friends, especially since Emma had basically assaulted her. She waited in the car for him outside the bar, and he returned with a wooden crate of art supplies and several large black portfolios. "There's nobody we know in there right now, if you want to come in for a drink." They walked into Tapestry, finding a seat in the back. One of the detectives sat at the bar drinking what looked like Scotch, and Thorn tried to avoid drawing his attention.
   "Never in my 30 years of homicide investigation- I've never seen anything quite this- fucked-up," the detective slurred, speaking to the bartender. "It was like a scene from a horror movie." He told the bartender a second body had been found, mutilated in a similar way- throat slit and a majority of the blood drained. Inky went pale at the description, hands shaking as she attempted to drink her wine. "Are you having second thoughts?" Thorn asked her, and she shook her head, dark hair covering her face. "What are you thinking about, then?" he continued, taking a drink of the gin and tonic. Inky remained silent, distractedly sipping her wine. Thorn stared at her, finishing his drink and leaning across the table.
   "Do you want to get out of here? I have something in mind..." she stared at him, at a loss for words, awkwardly spilling some of the red wine on herself. Thorn signaled for the bartender to bring their check, and they got up to leave just as Cayson entered the building. Thorn overheard him talking to the detective but only caught part of their conversation- "both of them leaving now," which he assumed was about Thorn quitting his job and trying to get Inky to go with him. Cayson gave the detective a conspiratorial look, then explained "I saw what they were up to in the alleyway." Thorn stared at them angrily- "what business is it of theirs- what we do?" he told Inky, who appeared mortified at being discovered.
   They left Tapestry through the back door, avoiding the two at the bar. "Let's just go- I don't think either of them noticed us," she said softly, face red. "Maybe we should just give them a show- if they're going to be watching us anyway," he suggested. Inky looked uncomfortable at this suggestion, hunting for her keys in her bag. Thorn found this slightly amusing, though his implication was serious. "If you want me to, I can kill him for you," he whispered, leaning closer to her. Inky laughed nervously. "It's fine, Thorn. Really. I don't want to attract any more attention to us," she said quietly. "Attract attention to us? Like this?" he stepped closer to her so that they were pressed up against her car door. Inky stared at him, eyes wide with shock. "Thorn- stop it, you're being ridiculous. We should just go back to my apartment," she protested. I don't want to go to your apartment- I don't care who sees us anymore.
   He smiled darkly, the explicit intentions obvious in his eyes. "Are you afraid of being seen with me? Or is it yourself that you're really afraid of- how you feel?" he asked softly, staring at her without breaking eye contact. "Besides- there's nobody else out here- just us. Is that really so wrong?" Thorn spoke quietly so only Inky could hear, and she shook her head, a conflicted look on her features. "If this really makes you feel so uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else," he offered, abruptly opening the car door; Inky practically falling into the driver's seat. "Let's go to the museum," he insisted.
   Inky drove distractedly the whole way, Thorn could tell she was contemplating his less than appropriate intentions. I have no impulse control around you anymore, he thought, sliding a hand up her leg under the black dress she wore, absently unraveling a loose thread from the gauze bandage. "You're going to make me crash the car," she whispered shakily, trying to focus on the road. "I won't let anything happen to you," he replied. They finally reached their destination, carrying the heavy black portfolios into the museum. "We should go to my office- it's a bit more- secluded," Thorn insisted. Inky looked down, face blushing red again. She distractedly almost ran into a staircase, tripping and nearly dropping the portfolio.
   Thorn noticed a thin trail of blood on the side of her leg- and Inky looked down at the injury. "Shit- are you all right?" he set down the other portfolio, looking at her in concern. "I might need to get stitches again," she admitted. They took the elevator to his office, and Thorn carried both portfolios this time, not wanting Inky to injure herself further. He locked the office door behind them, setting the artwork on the glass surface of the drafting table. Inky sat down in a metal chair by the window, lifting the hem of her dress to stare at the blood-soaked gauze on her leg. Thorn watched as she peeled it away, revealing the cut underneath. "I'm going to get blood all over your office now, too," she mumbled. "I don't mind- I've seen much worse," he replied nonchalantly, searching in the supply cabinet next to his desk. "I think there's some first-aid supplies in here somewhere," he muttered.
   I wonder if I- accidentally hurt you when we were in the alleyway? he concluded; staring down at the floor. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Inky," he said guiltily, unable to meet her eyes. "It was an accident," she answered quietly, attempting to stand up. Blood was pooled on the desk chair from the stab wound on the top of her thigh, and she looked paler than usual, eyes unfocused as though experiencing vertigo. "Inky?" he asked, catching her as she lost consciousness, the whites of her eyes showing.
   Thorn quickly shoved the artwork and portfolios off of the glass table, carefully lying her down on the cold surface. He found black thread and a needle to stitch up the cut- hoping she hadn't lost too much blood. He didn't want to have to take her to the hospital- though if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate. He checked her pulse- it seemed normal; perhaps she'd only blacked out from the sight of her own blood. Cautiously, Thorn stitched up the cut, the black thread contrasting with the pale skin. He cleaned up the blood, applying antiseptic, and waited for Inky to regain consciousness.
   She woke up sometime later, eyes blinking to adjust to the fluorescent overhead lighting. "You blacked out again. You didn't hit your head this time- no concussion. You did seem pretty unresponsive- so I stitched up your leg while you were out," he explained. Inky looked down at the precise row of black stitches on the top of her thigh. "I have had some basic medical training, you know. I think you'll be okay as long as the stitches don't rip open again." Thorn paced nervously around the office, collecting the artwork and various medical supplies that he'd strewn carelessly around the room while in a panic about Inky's condition.
   "So- I guess our previous plans are out?" she replied, disappointment in her voice as she stared at the ceiling. WHAT? Thorn stopped in the middle of the room, staring at her in surprise. "Are you serious? I mean- you were completely unconscious just an hour ago..." he averted his eyes, unsure what to say. I just had to give you stitches and clean up your blood while you were blacked out- and now you want me to fuck you? Inky turned to face him, cheek resting on the cold glass table. "I mean, unless you don't want to anymore," she teased. I do want to- I just don't want to hurt you again.
   He stared back at her from the middle of the room, black hair covering his eyes. "What if your stitches get ripped again?" She replied sarcastically, "you said that you had medical training. Besides- aren't you going to finish what you started? What are you afraid of, Thorn? You already told me that you weren't going to hurt me- isn't this what you wanted?" Her questioning was relentless, and Thorn wasn't used to her being so assertive. He slowly walked to the office door, double-checking to make sure it was locked. Turning off the fluorescent light, he switched it for the dim red bulb of the photography darkroom.
   "I didn't know you did photography," Inky glanced around the office, the red light shining throughout the room. "There's still a lot that you don't know about me," Thorn answered darkly. "You know that you can tell me anything, Thorn. I know enough that I'm not going to leave." She slowly ran her hand along the glass edge of the table, a strange expression in her eyes as she stared at him. "It's nothing- you'll just think I'm a creep again. It's from before we met- I guess I was stalking you or- something like that," he confessed, dark eyes meeting hers in the red light.
   He left the room to retrieve the black cardboard box- full of all the photographs he'd taken of her. Inky waited patiently as he untied the red ribbon around the box, arranging the photos around her on the table. She curiously regarded the images staring back- her own face in black and white- smoking, writing papers at work, drinking tea, half-naked and covered in paint... Thorn awaited her reaction of disgust or anger, yet Inky's actual response was quite the opposite. She picked up one of the photographs, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I suppose you probably don't trust me now," he said, looking down at the floor shamefully. Inky shook her head, "that's not it at all- you- noticed me, when nobody else really gave a fuck."
   "It was always only you, Inky," Thorn admitted, sitting down next to her on the edge of the table. He replaced the photos in the cardboard box, setting it aside. She remained quiet, though she didn't seem to be dismayed or disgusted with him, even after he'd admitted to stalking her. Inky's eyes reflected the low red light of the room, and Thorn stared down at her, carefully tracing the row of black thread stitches on her leg. "Everyone else has always just thought I'm some kind of weird pervert," he admitted quietly, staring at her intently. "Show me," she replied in a challenging tone, meeting his dark gaze.
   She pulled him down on top of her after discarding the black dress; locking her fingers together behind his back, keeping their skin pressed together. Thorn felt a strange sense of acceptance, after all he'd done, the atrocities he'd committed- Inky still looked at him unflinchingly, still wanted to be with him. He'd confessed to her that he was in love with her- which he had never even thought possible. "What if I rip your stitches on accident?" he asked quietly. "Do your worst- you can always sew it up again," she replied darkly. Her hands were soft against the skin of his back, holding on to him, staring with that familiar look of strange desperation; as though they were the only ones in existence. Perhaps when they were together, they were.
   Carefully, he traced his fingers over her pale skin, feeling her shiver slightly from the physical reaction. The red darkroom light glowed around them, casting strange shadows across their bodies, and their clothes were in a black pile on the floor of his office. Thorn slid one hand up the side of her leg, tracing the stitches that still appeared agitated. Inky's sacrifice to the Red Void- she shouldn't have had to do that. Now more than ever, Thorn wanted to escape with her, run away from the nameless abominations and everything that threatened to keep them apart. He felt her take a shaky breath; noticing that his own heart rate had increased, which was rare since he usually only felt a blank, calm apathy or quiet internal rage- except when they were together.
   She still felt slightly cold; the glass table against her skin wasn't doing any favors. I can help remedy that, he thought, pressing the warmth of his hands against her skin. You don't have to be cold, alone, when you're with me... Inky pulled him closer, and it almost felt as if they were dissolving together under the red light, a strange physical alchemy- their darkness combining together. Thorn knew it was a highly inappropriate time, but he wanted to photograph her like this; staring up into his eyes, expression a mixture of trust, desire, and acceptance he had never experienced with anyone else. She was just so... perfect, he thought. After all, she didn't think he was a pervert, a creep- even knowing all that he'd done in the name of the Red Void, his own dark mind.
   No longer did he have to ask her to look at him when he was touching her, this time it was of her own volition. Her own lead-grey eyes were unnerving in their own way, seeming to stare right through him; deciphering his dark secrets and making him feel alive, real, less dissociative. It sure as hell seemed like reality, with her hands on his skin, the cold glass table beneath them. She slowly ran her fingertips across the parallel scars on the inside of his arms; eyes filled with understanding, not pity or disgust. Normally he kept the scars hidden away from the prying eyes of others, but he didn't want to hide anything from Inky- not anymore. No longer would he try to deny the darkness in his mind, not if she still wanted him after everything.
   "What are you thinking about? You look distracted," she asked him quietly. Thorn looked away, not sure how to answer the question. "Just- how much I want to be here with you- only you," he replied softly, feeling almost shy at this honest admission. Inky traced one of the black ink handprints she'd left on his face, again looking at him with that peculiar expression. "I only want you, Thorn," she answered, face pressed against the side of his neck, her hands tangled in his black hair. He felt painfully aware of their every action, it was like every time they were together, their parallel connection became stronger.
   If we are creation and destruction, when we're together like this, does it bleed over- my darkness transferring to you, your emotions transferring to me? he wondered, feeling Inky's skin pressing against his, their bodies yet again covered in ink handprints. It was like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of them in the red-lit room together. There were strange, conflicting feelings converging in his mind, and this time there was nothing subtle, no hesitations with their interaction. Without you, everything falls apart, Thorn thought, his hands around her wrists. He vaguely wondered if they would both have bruises the next day, and was surprised the glass surface of the drafting table hadn't cracked due to the intensity of their act.
   It was a good thing that they were being mostly quiet, otherwise someone might have tried to come inspect what was taking place, and Thorn was definitely not in the mood for an interruption. Inky's body felt fragile beneath his, he didn't want to hurt her- yet it didn't seem like she had any complaints... in fact, it was quite the opposite. Thorn tried not to stare at her- it was nearly impossible for him to look away, especially with how she looked; eyes closed, messy black hair tangled around her face, the darkroom light softly glowing off of her skin. Some of the photographs he had taken of her were scattered around the floor below them, yet he did not mind because this reality was better than any picture he could have taken.
   Inky's image was indelibly burned into his mind, wherever he went, he could see her deep grey eyes- like a November storm, the light, delicate constellations of freckles on her pale face, and the way she looked back at him with the same reciprocated intensity of emotion... I am haunted by you, he thought. Her skin was soft under his hands, and Thorn whispered her name into the dark, pulling her closer, away from the harsh coldness of the glass tabletop. When I am with you, I feel like we could do anything; perhaps even destroy the abomination, close the Red Void and escape from its evil presence forever, he thought, gently kissing the side of her neck and collarbone, feeling her body shiver- though not from the cold, but her reaction to the way he was touching her- and knowing that he alone had this effect on her was more of a turn-on than anything he could ever have imagined.
   She is aware I've done terrible things, killed in the name of the void, and yet despite this, she still allows me to touch her- maybe we are both truly sick in the same way, but it doesn't matter, not really, as long as we're together. Afterwards, they lay together on the glass table, staring up at the ceiling in silent contemplation. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would have turned out to be if I hadn't met you," Thorn told her. "It's like I feel everything in the world- and other times I feel nothing at all. It's painful- not in the way a bullet wound is painful but an ache deep in your bones. You've helped me erase some of that feeling- helped me to actually feel something again besides pain and isolation."
   Inky looked over at him, grey eyes staring unreservedly. Thorn picked up the small piece of thin red ribbon that had been attached to the box of photos of her, tying it around her left wrist. "Can I take your photograph?" he asked quietly, and she agreed, lying still on the glass table while he adjusted his camera, taking several photos. Inky no longer seemed to be self-conscious, staring at him from behind the camera lens, her exposed skin in pale contrast with the ink handprints. "Let me see," she insisted once he'd developed the film in the darkroom. Thorn handed her the small stack of photographs, allowing her to see herself as he did- the camera capturing every detail in black and white. Inky stared intently at the last picture- a close-up of her eyes, reflecting the camera lens, staring back at him.
   Thorn saw his own reflection in her eyes as well, somewhat hidden behind the camera. He recalled the last poem he'd written about her, and decided he really didn't hate himself so much when he thought about the way Inky looked at him. I will never betray your trust in me again. No matter what happens next, I will always protect you, even though I might have to kill again. He did not mention this to Inky, even though she knew- it was probably for the best if he kept her out of his dark transgressions.