Turpentine & Vetiver

20. Realization -the more you love, the more you suffer-Vincent Van Gogh

   The small artists' community was collectively shocked and disturbed by the murder of Danielle McKenna, whose body had been found on the beach; mutilated almost beyond recognition. She'd been discovered with a slit throat- the initial cause of death, but the post-mortem injuries were ghastly; horribly nightmarish and grotesque to describe. A peculiar silver liquid had been found on the torso- a caustic chemical of unknown origin. She'd been completely eviscerated, disemboweled- the intestines pulled free from the body cavity and strewn along the rocky shoreline like abandoned fisherman's rope.
   Strips of skin had been peeled away from the corpse as well, and the flesh was partially rotten and covered in sand, maggots, and other beach detritus. The sternum had been roughly ripped open, bones and organs exposed to the elements. Bone and cartilage showed through various open wounds, the blood that remained was crusted and dried. Multiple bruises were apparent on her torso; the arms and legs nearly broken free from the body, disjointed at ungodly angles as they'd seemed to be nearly wrenched free by an unknown force.
   The coroner had also observed there were ligature marks around the ankles and wrists that had been made with plastic restraints, in addition to traces of chloroform in her lungs. Several of the investigators were violently ill on the scene- requesting to be transferred to a different department immediately following the incident. Overall, it was the most vile crime they'd witnessed in years- if not in their entire careers in homicide. The fact that some of the disturbing injuries were caused prior to her mutilation and death led the lead detective to concur this was definitely a homicide- quite possibly the work of a violent offender; a practiced serial killer. The police and some of the detectives had come to the Gallery to ask questions, trying to piece together scraps of evidence from what they could gather. Several reporters had come to town as well- writing sensationalist stories and exaggerating the already gruesome details.
Thorn was visiting Inky- she'd called him several days after their night together covered in the black paint- she sounded frightened and paranoid again, and had mentioned hearing strange noises in the dark. He tried to reassure her everything was fine, that she was safe, but she sounded so scared on the phone; he didn't want her to be alone again. Thorn was surprised to see such a large police presence- if not for his dark deed- they wouldn't be here at all. They'd never found Isobel's body- as far as he knew- perhaps this time, he hadn't been as careful and methodical as he'd assumed.
   Fuck- now I'm going to have to really watch how I act around all these people... He quietly stood by the window in Inky's office while the detective in charge of the investigation questioned her about the incident. Inky gave little information, her responses vague, and Thorn was grateful for this- even if it was only a result of her amnesia from whatever she'd witnessed that night on the beach. Maybe I did help you to forget those terrible sights, he thought, vividly recalling the image of the two of them- on her studio floor, covered in the black paint and nothing else.
   The detective turned to face him, writing something down on the yellow legal notepad. "Sir, please state your full name, age, and occupation for the purposes of our investigation." He poured another cup of the Gallery's terrible coffee, and Thorn smirked, turning away from the window with a blank, impassive expression. "Thorn Keir, 27, and uhh... I guess art coordinator, though work has been pretty slow lately." He looked away, trying to come up with an additional answer. "I did have to travel for a business trip last week, working on curating an art show out of town," he added, looking at the detective calmly; eyes devoid of emotion. The detective nodded, scribbling more notes on the legal pad, then left them alone in Inky's office.
   Thorn looked over at the paperwork on Inky's desk- her notes were a mess, and he attempted to organize them to the best of his ability. He knew her project had been partially destroyed the night on the beach, and she had been working hard to complete it before the deadline. "This needs to go here," he said quietly, arranging some of the notes he'd read. He wrote a few more ideas down on the margins of the paperwork with his precise handwriting. Inky stared at him in surprise. "How did you see that?" she replied, peering around him to read his notes. "I've been trying to figure this out all damn week but it just blurs together." Thorn shrugged, "I'm good at finding patterns, I guess," he answered, attaching a few colorful sticky notes to the torn page, looking up at her sheepishly.
   He felt slightly nervous around Inky right now- not wanting to upset her- though he was trying to help. "Looks like I owe you a drink or something," she replied, sounding impressed with his work. Thorn laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Or something," he simply stated, implication of something other than a drink obvious in his tone. Inky blushed, turning away quickly to hide her red, embarrassed face. "Hey, I didn't hear any complaints about last time," he added, smiling slyly. He was enjoying her reaction, it was amusing to him how shy and awkward she still was around him- despite what they'd done together already. Okay- so you've let me see you naked and covered in paint, but sexual innuendo is- too much?
   Inky threw a crumpled ball of paper in his general direction, pretending to be frustrated. "Quit fucking with me and let me buy you a drink, damn it. I can't work like this-" she gestured to indicate the paperwork mess surrounding them. "Is that a threat or a promise?" Thorn responded in amusement, staring quietly back at Inky. He found it a bit humorous to purposely agitate her- though he was only joking around. She sighed in irritation, rolling her eyes at him. "You're making it extremely difficult to focus on my job," Inky said halfheartedly, looking distracted.
   Thorn watched as she picked up the metal nameplate on her desk; she'd covered up the first half of it with a white label that read INKY in bold black letters- the bastards at the Gallery had used her legal name -Nikola- which she'd told him never felt like it fit her. "My parents named me after a dead inventor," she'd explained to him when he'd read the name on her office door. She mentioned she was in the process of changing her name legally so that Nikola would be her middle name instead. Thorn nodded, he didn't particularly like his middle name, either- but used it when renting cars as half of his alias.
   "Did you want me to leave? I can wait for you at Tapestry or something," he said quietly, not wanting to distract her from her project if it was due soon. He was a bit disappointed- he did enjoy providing a distraction, but not at the cost of Inky's job. She shook her head. "It can wait until tomorrow- let's get out of here," she replied with a small smile of surrender. They left her office and paperwork behind, leaving the Gallery and walking down to the marina. Inky hadn't wanted to go to Tapestry; as the detectives were there questioning the employees- which Thorn agreed was probably better left avoided. He hoped he hadn't seemed suspicious in any way when the detective was questioning him.
   Thorn pointed out a small cafe at the end of the pier- he knew the coffee here was good, and they had a wide variety of tea. There were small, white lights hanging outside in a string, illuminating the building invitingly. A weathered sign made from old driftwood read 'Sea & Stone'. Inky followed him to the back of the cafe, and they sat down at the table outside. The barista took their order -two cups of strong Earl Grey tea- Thorn had decided to forego his standard black coffee for the time being.
   The afternoon sunlight shone in radiant gold across the dark sea behind them, the glowing light seeming almost surreal; and Thorn watched Inky drinking her tea, the sun's rays illuminating the golden flecks in her dark grey eyes like constellations in the evening sky. He absently wondered how he'd never noticed before- perhaps because he'd mostly watched her from afar, and the times he was close it had been mostly dark. At this moment- he felt immensely conflicted she wanted to be in his dark presence; Inky deserved more than to be loved by a deranged psychopathic killer such as himself. His own self-image was so distorted, he projected his hatred onto others he encountered. Thorn was filled with disgust at himself, he knew he should never have convinced Inky to even talk to him in the first place. He felt as though touching her was a sort of desecration- somehow transferring his darkness to her.
   Thorn stared at her, lost in his self-loathing thoughts; then noticed the expression on her face. Her eyes were lowered, and she was staring into the depths of her teacup with a strange detachment. Thorn thought Inky looked as if she might cry; her grey eyes filled with unshed tears. "Are you all right?" he asked, placing his hands over hers under the table. Inky's hands were cold as usual, and something about her fragile expression made Thorn feel profoundly sad. Inky looked up at him, blinking back the tears. She nodded, seeming a bit embarrassed. "I'm fine. This is just-" she paused, as if searching for the right words. A contemplative expression crossed her face, and she stared past him out to the sea. Inky shifted awkwardly in her seat, and Thorn didn't know what to say to her- once more at a loss for words.
   Their tea had gone cold in the silence, and the silence that hung between them felt like a suffocating shroud. Thorn wished he was better at communicating with her- as he usually had no problem saying whatever was on his mind. Inky looked back at him, her eyes meeting his once again in the changing light of the sunset. She looked troubled; yet there was more to her expression than that- he'd never seen that particular look in her eyes. Thorn felt uneasy, he wondered if Inky was going to say anything- or let them sit in the awkward silence. What are you thinking about? Why won't you say something? Perhaps I did do- something wrong after all.
   Finally, Inky spoke, breaking the silence between them. "I- I think I love you, Thorn," she admitted softly, averting her eyes shyly. Thorn was taken aback- nobody had ever loved him; he was a bastard, a psycho, a murderer. However, Inky did not know this- or maybe subconsciously she did, and saw past his flaws. Either way- he was surprised she felt the same way about him- enough to admit it. Say something to her- tell her how you feel, he thought, still mentally in shock from the honesty of Inky's confession. He had definitely not been expecting her to tell him that- her shy admission of love.
   How the hell could anyone possibly love you? You're a monster, you're sick in the head- she is just delusional, he reminded himself coldly. Of course Inky didn't, couldn't possibly love him back- she was mistaken, merely confused. Even if she really did mean it- would she still love him when she saw what he was truly capable of? Definitely not. Thorn stared at her, wanting nothing more than to tell her he felt the same way- but he couldn't bring himself to answer her. Instead, he held her hands tighter under the table, remaining silent; reticent. He felt completely incompetent he couldn't even respond to her- keeping his thoughts guarded as usual. Inky didn't deserve this- not after what she herself had admitted to him.
   I love you, too, Inky- I just don't know how to tell you. If you could see how I truly am, behind this facade, would you still love me back? Though Thorn was silent in his contemplative state, Inky did not seem disappointed or upset by the lack of response, perhaps she could read his true intentions in his expression as well. They sat together watching the sunset over the dark water, the only sound disturbing the calm silence was the waves breaking over the shoreline.