Turpentine & Vetiver

24. Acceptance

-If you become involved with me,
you will be throwing yourself
into the abyss.
                                        —Franz Kafka

                              *   *   *

   Around them, the room was silent- the harsh, coppery scent of Miranda's blood tinged the air, mixed with the distilled juniper of the turpentine. Thorn stood next to Inky, wordless and still. He glanced down at his bloodstained hands, the knife on the floor, then back at Inky. She averted her eyes, looking around the room as though avoiding him- which he supposed was the case. "God damn you," she said quietly, her tone bitter. Tears fell from her face and onto the floor, small drops of saltwater mingling with the blood. Thorn turned away from her, leaving the room and its violent display. He returned after a while with a large black cloth, which he covered the body with as a makeshift shroud- this way Inky would no longer be forced to look upon the atrocity he had so willingly committed.
   "So what are you going to do with her?" Inky asked, her voice seeming detached, numb. "I- I take them to the sea," Thorn explained, looking down at the body. "You know- I don't torture them or anything. It's quick. The abominations are the ones who do that," he mimicked the dissecting motion- unwilling to take credit for the terrible mutilation he had not done. Thorn supposed it didn't really matter much now- either way, Inky hated him- and he knew sooner or later he would be acquainted with the inside of a prison cell.
   Honestly, I probably deserve worse- maybe I'll get the death sentence, as I've sentenced so many others to a brutal fate. He wasn't afraid of getting caught anymore- Inky was the only one who mattered, and he'd shattered her trust, her love for him. Nothing mattered anymore. "I guess that doesn't really matter in the end though, what's been done- I know it's wrong," he admitted. "I know what I am, I didn't want to hide it from you forever, but I knew that you wouldn't be able to accept what I am, Inky." She looked up at him, their eyes meeting once more. "And what is that? What are you, Thorn? You're definitely not the same person I met- or maybe you are and all this time I chose not to identify why it felt so- wrong," she said, eyes filling with renewed tears.
   No. Please don't say that. I tried not to do anything wrong, anything to hurt you. I can't stand the way you're looking at me right now. Thorn imagined before they'd met- how emotionless he'd remained- which was infinitely preferable to the words she'd just said. Inky's opinion of him now hurt worse than any physical pain he'd endured, and the fact it was all his fault didn't lessen the harsh reality. He thought of the knife on the ground; considered merely killing himself to make everything end once and for all.
   Thorn turned away from her so she couldn't see the expression on his face. "I'm not a terrible person, or at least I tried not to be- a monster," he confessed, for once feeling shameful in his honesty. It wasn't really his fault he was a psychopath- sometimes people just came into the world wrong, and he already despised his own existence. Inky shook her head. "Maybe you are- maybe not. Were you lying to me about everything you told me?" Thorn stepped closer to her, hoping she wouldn't run away from him- though now, she had every reason to.
   "No. The Red Void- everything I told you- it's true. You are the creator and I am the parallel- creation, destruction. It's how we have to exist. I'm so sorry that it has to be this way," he explained, gesturing vaguely at the blood, the body, his painting. Thorn noticed Inky made no move to get away from him- perhaps she was still in shock, or possibly didn't care about her own safety anymore.
   "It doesn't have to be this way, Thorn," she said quietly, staring into his eyes. He realized the look of anger was gone, replaced by something else. "I wish I could just split the bad part of myself and the good, and just run away with you- leave everything behind," he confessed, an unfamiliar desolation settling over his mind like a damp, dark fog. "You still can," Inky answered, taking a step closer to him. Thorn shook his head sadly. "No, it's too late. You never should have come here- or seen any of this. I was wrong. Just- leave me. I'm so sorry." The finality of the situation was starting to set in, and Thorn knew what he had to do once Inky left. It was the only way- he could not live with what he'd done, knowing how much he'd betrayed her.
   "I'm not going anywhere," she insisted, refusing to move, standing in quiet defiance in the bloodstained room. He looked at her in disbelief. "Also, I wasn't lying to you," he continued. "Your artwork is important- your life is important, Inky. You're the only person who made me feel like I wasn't alone- my life was 27 years of hell and isolation before I met you." Thorn stared back at her, refusing to look away. Inky's expression changed, grey eyes seeming almost understanding. "So how long has this been going on?" she inquired reluctantly.
   "Since I was 22," he paused, deciding to omit the part about killing his family- they had nothing to do with the Red Void- but their presence had caused irreversible trauma to his already broken mind- and he knew they truly did deserve to die. "When you opened the Red Void for that first time- in your room. I saw it, too. I'd had a sense that it was always around, when I was younger, but it was always a vague shadow in my mind." Thorn paused, unsure what he'd already told her regarding the void. "It was like a strange dream. I saw the vision first- the abomination in your closet, your forbidden creation- and I saw you, with your friends that night. How you had to lie about the blood you'd found in the closet," he said, explaining each time he'd had to cut himself- though Inky was already aware. He looked down at his arms self-consciously- but they were hidden by long sleeves and were soaked in sticky, drying blood anyway. As if Inky needed another reminder of what a psychopath he was.
   "So why did you start killing people?" her voice was calm; curious even. "I didn't at first. The Red Void started then, and for several years, I didn't harm anyone besides myself. You get so tired of that, Inky. I- experimented on rats, pigeons- things I could catch and sacrifice instead. One day, there was an accidental stabbing death in front of me- when the Red Void had opened in the Gallery during my first art show. I guess then I realized that the abomination -those creatures- prefer unwilling bloodshed to a willing sacrificial participant, and they feed off of death itself as well."
   "Does it have to be a human?" Inky asked, and he nodded. "Humans have the strongest life energy for them, more emotions to feed off of, and are more capable of fighting back. The abomination gets its power from non-compliance, and it gets very angry if you try to deny it what it wants." This was the best explanation Thorn knew how to give her- he still didn't exactly understand how the whole thing worked, either. "How many people did you kill?" Inky stared down at the blood again. Thorn shook his head- unable to admit the actual truth.
   "No- you shouldn't have to know that- it's been two years since the first time. I'm not denying I'm responsible for everything, I know what I did." Inky made a face, and Thorn could only imagine what she was thinking about him right now. "Only two more after the accident and before Dani and Miranda," he explained quickly. "I used to only have to do it once a year. Then, when you moved to the city, the Red Void's appearances intensified, became more frequent. I had to stop it somehow. I saw you trying to fight it, too." Thorn walked across the room, staring into the depths of one of his blood-paintings, waiting for her reply.
   "Is that how you found me- at the Gallery?" Inky asked, looking contemplative as she stared back at him. "I wasn't lying about that, I guess I sensed that I knew you somehow, before we actually met- but at first I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. I'm not the best in social situations because of how I've had to be," Thorn answered honestly, feeling tired; defeated. "I didn't want anything to do with you- at first. None of my friends liked you. They all warned me about you. Said that you were creepy but nobody was sure why. I didn't listen- and here we are." He laughed, yet found no humor in the situation, turning back to face the wall and his collection of other people's blood on the canvases.
   "You should have listened. Stay away from broken people, Inky. I told you, it's too late for me." Regretfully, he added, "I did enjoy our time together..." Thorn could not do this any longer- he felt his mind starting to slip, soon everything would crumble and dissolve to dust, and there was no way to stop it now. "You're not broken though! I'm just as much to blame as you," Inky protested angrily, only this time she didn't sound upset at him. No, she was blaming herself- which Thorn hated himself for. I am responsible for your pain once again- pain I never intended to cause. Please just leave and let me put an end to my own pointless existence. This charade has gone on for far too long...
   They both remained quiet for some time, the reality of everything feeling nearly suffocating, another living presence in the grey room. Thorn remembered before all this had happened- watching her silently from afar, following her until she chose to find him, the nights they spent together covered in paint and ink... how her dark artwork was so similar to his somehow, and with her, he almost felt that he could be himself- free from the mental torment of the void and his own intrusive thoughts.
   I don't want to kill myself, he thought sadly. I can't live without you- I am a pathetic mess, a fucking shell of my former self. With you, I allowed myself to feel, and I'm afraid that I made a mistake, because now, I'd rather feel nothing. Thorn stared at the wall in complete despair, his rational thoughts replaced with images of self-destruction, until Inky's voice broke the morbid trance. "We need to get out of here," she told him. Surprised, Thorn turned to face her. "What do you mean?" he asked, mind blank and unable to comprehend exactly what she meant.
   Inky pointed to Miranda's body, under the black shroud. "You need to clean this up. Those detectives are still in town- and Cayson is asking everybody about you, too. They wonder where you go, Thorn. What you do when you disappear." She paused, and he regarded her calmly, her words sinking in. "I know you were away on a 'business trip' to curate that art show. I've seen you work though- when you helped me with that project. It wouldn't take you that long to set up. You're too organized and meticulous for that. It didn't make sense to me, but now I know. I know what you were doing the times you disappeared, and the detectives are going to catch on sooner or later."
   Thorn saw frustration in her eyes- did this mean she didn't want him getting arrested? Was it still possible- she actually cared about him? He waited for a moment, then spoke. "I was on a business trip. I just didn't tell anybody when I got back. The Red Void is extremely unpredictable. I had to find -someone- and Dani was just there, and I remembered her reaction to my performance art piece. How disgusted she looked with me, and I guess it set off something in my head that I was trying to suppress. So I- I killed her, and gave her to the abomination. I'm sorry you had to be there," he explained, indicating the scar from when she'd cut her hand on the beach.
   "When did you do it?" Inky's voice was quiet, almost fearful. Thorn knew why, but told her anyway. "Before you came to see me- the second time. When I had cut myself- and you had the concussion. The night we- were out in the storm." He looked away in shame- not wanting to admit to killing someone right before they'd- slept together. Dani's last words to him echoed freshly in his mind- Do you love her? Yes, he thought without hesitation. Yes, I do. I always will. Inky held out her own bloodstained hand to him, blood mixed with black ink, and Thorn stared at her in confusion, taken aback.
   "I have to help you. I'm just as much to blame in this as you," she explained, taking his hand in hers and pulling him away from the dark artwork on the wall. "Please, Thorn. We have to do this together. I know this is wrong- fuck, we're definitely both going to hell, or worse- but I can't let you do this by yourself anymore, even after everything. Hell, I won't lie to you and say nothing's different now- it is, but I trusted you. I still do." Thorn stared into her eyes, the stormy grey intensified by her unshed tears, her conflicted emotions. Is this- what acceptance looks like? Inky looked down at the shrouded figure of Miranda. "What do we do next?" she asked him calmly.
   Thorn held Inky's hand tightly, afraid she'd realize she was making a mistake and run away from him. Not that he'd stop her now- if that's what she really, truly wanted. He answered slowly, giving her precise instructions on what to do next. "I have to take her to the beach- then clean up all this blood. I need you to go back to the Gallery and explain to Cayson that I'm busy with my other job- just make something up." She nodded, "I understand. I'll try to distract everyone- at least for a day. Please try not to be gone longer than that- they're already getting suspicious."
   "We're in this together now, Inky. You can't change your mind once this is over. It's going to be a part of your existence forever. Are you absolutely sure that you can live with the facts of what I've done?" Thorn was serious now- his own life was inconsequential, but this was asking her to change her entire world- for him. She blinked, the unshed tears falling to the floor. "I understand. Yes," she said softly, another tear making a trail down her pale cheek. Thorn reached his hand out slowly to brush the tear away, staring down into her eyes. He noticed Inky flinch slightly, an involuntary, instinctual reaction he took no offense to. She froze, looking at him with uncertainty in her guarded expression. Apologetically, he stepped away from her, releasing her hand.
   "I'll deal with this now. We'll see each other again soon. You can stay here tonight if you need to. At least clean up the blood," he insisted, pointing at the new injury on her leg. Inky nodded in a gesture of understanding. "Thank you," she replied quietly, watching him disappear into the hallway to gather a few supplies. Thorn took Miranda to the beach- her newfound watery abode- and disposed of the rental car; taking it to a junkyard to be crushed into metal fragments. He reported the car as stolen on his business trip, methodically tracing his steps over and over again to be certain he'd left no evidence of what had transpired. Inky didn't leave you, now you can't get caught- for her sake, he thought in determination.
   He drove the new rental back to the dark building, parking behind his property. Thorn decided he'd ask Inky to drive him back to the Gallery in the morning, as it would appear less suspect. Her car was still outside the building- she hadn't changed her mind and fled the scene of the crime- and he felt relieved when he unlocked the door. I will do everything in my power to protect you from the Red Void, Inky. The abomination is not going to win.
   Methodically, Thorn cleaned Miranda's blood off of the tile, the walls- any of the various surfaces it had tarnished. He hung up the new painting beside the others- knowing it was insanely idiotic to keep the evidence here, but compelled to do so anyway. Once the evidence was gone, he searched the area with a blacklight, and satisfied all the blood had been properly removed, collected the clothes he'd worn in a plastic garbage bag. These would be taken to the incinerator in the Gallery- the blood-soaked garments burned in purifying fire. He showered to remove the blood from his skin- glad it had been dark enough nobody had noticed at the car rental agency. Prior to this, he'd already washed most of it away- as it was rather obvious he'd been involved in some grisly deed. The remnants of Miranda's blood swirled down the drain, and he stood under the water until it ran cold, mind racing with the night's events.
   Inky was asleep in the next room, curled up on his bed and tangled in the black sheets. She'd borrowed one of his black button-down shirts; which on her fit more like a dress. Thorn secretly liked it when she wore his clothing- though it always led to inappropriate thoughts. He adjusted the sheets around her, trying not to wake her up- it appeared she'd probably just gotten to sleep, as his pile of art and science magazines seemed out of order, as though she'd gone rifling through them to induce a more relaxed state. He wished he hadn't been the cause of her unrest- though the damage had already been done, and despite everything- Inky had chosen to stay with him of her own volition.
   He left the room to go make coffee- it was almost five in the morning; there would be no sleep for him tonight. He wrote a few lines down in the black Moleskine; dark, murderous thoughts, bloody imagery- and how he truly felt now about Inky. She hadn't left him- even after his act of betrayal- inadvertent as it might have been. I'll do anything for you, Inky. I always will. It's always been you, he thought, drinking the strong black coffee and waiting for the sun to reappear over the horizon. Soon, the strange gold light rose from the East, the day starting anew with possibility.