the-muse-of-chaos

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 9V2

Previous chapter: Chapter 8

He was such a liar.

He swore he wouldn't leave. And where was he? Gone.

He claimed it was an emergency. Said he would stay if he could. She didn't have any proof he was lying, but she didn't have any proof he was telling the truth either. It didn’t matter much anyway. He was gone.

She had no idea when he was going to be back. That was the problem. When he was at work, she knew he would be back in a few hours. He always reassured her of that. Even when he left for so long that time, she had known about when he would be back. This time she didn't. This time she felt lost.

He hadn’t even told her properly. She had fallen asleep without him, as he was busy at his easel, and she had been too exhausted to stay up. When she woke up, he was gone. She wasn't even sure he had come to bed. He had left a note saying that he had to leave right away.

Had to leave her.

When she first read the note she didn't really believe it. She went through all the rooms in the house, searching for him. It wasn’t until she found that last room empty that the words sank in, and she collapsed to the floor, beginning to sob.

After a bit she pulled herself together. He said he would be back. He just didn't know when. All of his things were still here, and he would never leave for good without taking his paintings. Would he?

He might. He might if he found something that scared him enough. She hoped he hadn’t. She still needed him.

She found her phone and texted him. He didn’t respond. She waited a few minutes, but still she heard nothing. Eventually she gave up and crawled back into her bed, cuddling her pillow as if she were pretending it was him.

She would wait for him to get back. Then everything would be fine. He would be back soon. He had to be.

But what if he wasn't?

The knot of anxiety grew in her chest, and she clutched her pillow tightly to her. Her anxiety eventually released itself through tears, and she cried herself to sleep.

She managed to write a bit after she woke up, surprising herself. Even so, most of her thoughts were devoted to him. Why did he leave? When would he return? Her head swam with questions. She tried her best to calm her thoughts.

She found herself going to his room and staring at his unfinished painting, which was still sitting on his easel. Despite it being incomplete, there was something about it that captivated her...

- A.I.N

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 9V1

Previous chapter: Chapter 8

He was true to his word, and stayed by her side. Not even once did he bring up the thought of leaving. The only time he left the house without her was when he went to work. She never had a job, and he was confused as to how she was supporting herself. She never told him. She wasn't ready to remember yet.

She was a little lonely while he was away, but she knew he would be back, so she endured. He brought her presents sometimes. Flowers, books, little trinkets that reminded him of her. It made her feel trapped, but she loved it. If she was trapped, she didn't have to decide where to go.

He had told her he didn't want her going too far on her own. She knew it was mainly because he didn't want her buying drugs again while he was out, but it felt nice to be looked after. They went out together often enough.

Sometimes he would come home and immediately go to his easel to paint, because he'd found some inspiration while he was out. When this happened she would grab her laptop and come watch him paint until she felt ready to write. She loved those moments, where they just sat and basked in the flow of inspiration from each other. She marveled at his concentration as he carefully considered each colour and brush stroke. She often wondered what he saw behind those fixated eyes.

He still gave her inspiration, as he always had, but there was a part of her that was paralyzed with the fear that that inspiration would one day run dry. What would she do then?

Find someone new.

That was what part of her told her she would have to do. She felt bad about the idea of just tossing him out if she could no longer gain anything from him, especially after all he had done for her. But the part of her brain that had suggested leaving him was a problem solver. It always got her out of tough situations, and rarely lead her astray.

Oh well. He still inspired her now, so she had plenty of time to decide.

For now, he could stay. He had to stay.

She still needed him. For now.

- A.I.N

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 8

Previous chapter: Chapter 7

Two weeks later, he came back. She didn't answer the door when he knocked. She didn't want him to see her like this. She hadn't had time to clean. No, she just couldn't bring herself to clean.

Not answering the door didn't stop him though. Neither did the locked front entrance. She had given him a key and that was how he got in, but part of her liked to think that he would have found a way to come in and check on her even if he hadn't had it.

He shut the door behind him and called out for her. She began to respond, but fell silent. She couldn't bear bringing attention to herself.

She listened to his footsteps as he climbed the stairs, which seemed longer than they were before. He paused to call her name again a couple times, but she still wasn't strong enough to break her silence.

He came to the door and knocked before gently pushing it open. He stood still for a few moments, shocked by what he saw.

The room was a mess. It looked like a tornado went through it. Her drugs were sitting out on the desk. The carpet was splattered with various blood stains. She was sitting on her bed, in the eye of the storm, dressed in clothes she'd worn for a week. She began to cry from shame.

"I missed you." She whispered hoarsely.

He carefully picked his way through the chaos, making his way to her. He sat next to her and wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder. He whispered in her ear, and promised never to leave her again.

He spent the next few days helping her clean and get herself together. She didn't understand why. It wasn't his mess. It wasn't his problem. He shouldn't have to help her. But she needed the help desperately, and so she didn't complain.

He got her to shower, to change, and to eat. He threw away her drugs, and got rid of her razor blade. He did it while she wasn't looking, but she noticed immediately that they were gone. Part of her was angry, but she thought she might be okay without them. After all, she had him back, and he promised to stay, though she still didn't understand why he cared so much.

The next few weeks were a state of rosy, broken perfection. The kind that only comes around just after something horrible has happened. Her marks began to heal into scars. Her head cleared more and more. She helped him move in, so she got to spend every day with him.

She told him why she had done it all. She told him about her writing. She showed him some of it. He loved it. Seeing how excited he was about it nearly made her cry from joy.

He showed her something too of course. He showed her his paintings. She loved his art style, the way he moved his brush along the canvas and brought his subject to life.

Apparently the reason he had accepted that first dinner invitation was because he wanted to paint her, but was too nervous to ask. Both had a desperate desire to capture each other through their craft. Neither was ready to see it.

So they left it alone for now, but she could see when she looked in his eyes that it tugged on him the same way it tugged on her.

Someday, she hoped. Someday.

Next chapters: Chapter 9V1, Chapter 9V2

- A.I.N

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 7

Previous chapter: Chapter 6

The drugs had given her a lot of inspiration, but it wasn't enough. Not for her.

She had to space it out, or else she would only see the same things over and over again. She knew that. She had discovered it a long time ago, when she first started taking them.

The problem was what to do for inspiration in the spaces in between.

She was desperate to write. More desperate than she had been in a long time.

At least that was what she thought at first.

As the feeling got worse, she realized it wasn't the writing. She was just desperate for... for anything. She hated it. She didn't understand how she could feel so empty.

Finally, in a fit of rage, she threw everything off her desk. She threw her phone—which happened to buzz at exactly the wrong moment to draw attention to itself—across the room. She began to sob violently, not knowing why she was so broken.

Suddenly, the feelings subsided. All of them. She got up and began searching through what had been on her desk until she found what she was looking for.

A razor blade. She had unscrewed it from a pencil sharpener ages ago, when she'd had this kind of episode for the first time.

She barely hesitated before putting the blade to her skin. She carefully sliced into herself, making sure to go deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough for it to be dangerous. She liked the blood and she liked the pain, she felt she deserved those, but she wasn't ready to die yet. She had so much left to write.

As the blade glided through her flesh, she began to giggle. At last she felt something. No, not just something. She felt euphoric. She didn't understand why, but she always felt wonderful when she brought that little blade out.

While she was laughing she accidentally cut a little deeper than she meant to. Blood pooled up on her skin. She turned and watched in fascination as it fell to the ground, staining her carpet crimson.

Eventually she decided she'd had enough. She washed off the razor blade and returned it to its spot on the desk.

The marks stung, and her eyes kept wandering to the blood splotches on the carpet. Finally, something hit her, and she began to write.

- A.I.N

Next chapter: Chapter 8

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 6

Previous chapter: Chapter 5

She was alone. Alone in her room. Alone in her house. Completely alone.

He was away, visiting family. He was supposed to be back in a month or so, but at that moment she felt she couldn't wait that long.

She needed to write. She needed inspiration.

She got up, pacing restlessly for a bit before finally deciding. She grabbed her coat and wallet and left. It was raining, so she ducked back in to grab an umbrella. Then she started down the deserted street.

She began making her way to the shady part of town. She knew the way well. She'd had friends there, once upon a time.

It seemed as though she was the only person out today, but she could feel people watching her from their windows and from the shadows. She ignored them all. She had a specific destination in mind, and she wouldn't let anything distract her.

She turned down a dark alley. Not the sort of place you would usually want to go alone. She had to hurry, before the vultures started circling.

She found a specific spot on the brick wall beside her and knocked in a pattern. After a few seconds a door next to her that had been disguised to look like part of the wall opened, and someone grabbed her arm and dragged her inside, closing the door behind her.

"Well well well, look what the cat dragged in." The man said. "It's not every day you see a pretty girl like you hanging around here."

She let out an exasperated sigh.

"I come here regularly. Just because I missed a few times doesn't mean you get to pretend you don't know me." She said.

"I just like annoying you." The man replied, shuffling off to the back corner of his little laboratory to get what he assumed she wanted. "The usual?"

"Of course."

"A woman who knows what she wants. I like that."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to see you any more than I have to." She said.

"You sure? I've got some good stuff." He replied, gesturing as much to himself as to his wares. She made a disgusted face, and he laughed.

"Relax kid, I'm just messing with you." He said. He finished packaging her order and handed it to her.

"I've been meaning to ask, how do you beat the withdrawal symptoms on those things? They're supposed to be pretty damn strong, but I've never seen you show it." He asked.

"I'm not telling you. If I do you might change it." She replied, pulling out her cash. "Besides, that wasn't part of our deal."

"Fair enough." He said, taking the money. "Half off, in exchange for not telling anyone how to quit."

She turned to leave, but he spoke before she could.

"Hey, be careful with those, you hear? I can tell you're in a mood today, and those things are still strong, even for you."

She rolled her eyes and waved him off, opening the door to head back out into the rain.

"See you next time." He said cheerfully to the closing door.

She walked back quickly through the rain. She got inside and paused until the echo of her front door closing faded. She shed her wet coat and umbrella, then went upstairs to her room.

She carefully laid down on her bed, then took one of the little square tablets he sold her out of the packaging and examined it. It was light blue with little white flecks, and she found it surprisingly pretty. These things had been her inspiration before she met the one she missed. She was surprised by how quickly she had turned back to them. Surprised, and a little ashamed.

Just a little.

She just needed to write.

She placed the tablet on her tongue and waited for it to kick in. It popped, like those candies she remembered getting at Halloween as a child, and it made her smile.

Soon the ceiling began to crumble. Then the walls. The entire house was succumbing to her hallucinations. She welcomed it with open arms, as strange things crawled through her floor, floated in through what was left of the ceiling, and ran at her from the broken walls.

She wasn't sure if the creatures were a product of her hallucinations, or simply the ghosts that lived in the house. She could always see them so much clearer when she had taken one of these.

She giggled like a child as man made magic clouded her senses and sent her into a dream like world, filling her with inspiration.

When it ended, she fell asleep.

When she woke, she began to write.

- A.I.N

Next chapter: Chapter 7

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 5

Previous chapter: Chapter 4

The door opened and she ran inside, dragging him along with her. They giggled excitedly as he put his arms around her waist and kissed her, gently at first, passion growing as they went on. Once again, she was studying how her body reacted. It felt so different when it was someone else. So much more exhilarating. She leaned into him, pressing her lips harder against his. He responded in kind, with a sort of needy desire that thrilled her. Then his kisses moved to her neck, a shock going down her body each time his lips met her surprisingly sensitive skin.

She called his name softly, and his reaction was immediate. He pulled her tight to him, kissing quickly up to her ear before whispering;

"I love you."

"I love you too." She responded.

She wasn't sure if she really loved him or not. But he still fascinated her. She didn't want him to leave, and she loved the way he lit up when she told him she loved him. Who cared if she didn't know if the feeling was genuine or not? No one. He didn't even have to know. It didn't matter. It wasn't like she knew what love felt like anyway. All she knew was that she didn't want to be left alone again. It wasn't the first time he had told her he loved her anyway, so it was already too late to turn back.

They kept going.

She began leading him upstairs. She felt alive when he touched her. So many ideas sprang to her mind, just from his touch. She loved it. She was excited to see what she could do with more.

Once they made it up the stairs she pulled him into another kiss. This time she was the one who felt needy, but he didn't seem to mind. He kissed her back with just as much passion, wrapping his arms around her again, promising not to let go this time.

He didn't mind that her room was a mess either. He didn't mind that she had been alone all this time. There were so many things about her, things that usually turned people away, that he didn't seem to mind. He had barely scratched the surface of course, but still, his acceptance baffled her. He loved her, and she didn't understand it.

They spent the night together. When she woke, he still had his arms wrapped around her. Her body reveled in the feeling of his skin against hers, just as it had last night. She snuggled closer into him, hoping he would take a while to wake up so she could take the time to study him. He had given her so much inspiration, and for that she was so grateful.

Eventually he did wake up. They got dressed and went downstairs. She made him breakfast. They talked and laughed quietly together, not wanting to shatter the breathless silence that belonged to all early risers. That morning seemed to last forever, bathed in a timeless golden haze.

Eventually he had to leave. She was disappointed, but it wasn't so bad. He had filled her with ideas. Now she could write.

- A.I.N

Next chapter: Chapter 6

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 4

Previous chapter: Chapter 3

She was walking home from the library, carrying a few books. She had gone out looking for inspiration and found a few interesting ones to take home. Unfortunately, however, it was starting to rain. She hadn't anticipated the rain, and was desperately trying to hide the books under her windbreaker, not wanting them to get damaged. Suddenly the rain stopped hitting her, and she slowly took the books out and looked around. Next to her was a young man, holding an umbrella over her head.

"You seemed like you needed help. I can walk you home if you'd like? Or at least until the rain stops?" He said.

She thought for a bit, then nodded.

"Thank you." She said. Even with so much time spent alone, she hadn't forgotten her manners.

They walked in silence. She often found herself looking up at him, studying his expression. He intrigued her. She didn't understand why he had offered to help a complete stranger. Eventually they made it to her home, and instead of just going inside, she turned to face him.

"You fascinate me." She said.

"I do?" He asked.

She nodded. Then she thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to be able to interact with him more.

"Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" She asked eventually.

He seemed a bit surprised, but nodded. "I'd love to." He said.

She smiled, surprising herself. It was rare that anyone managed to make her smile these days.

"Wonderful. Where shall we go?" She asked.

They made plans and exchanged numbers. Then she went back inside, the smile never leaving her face. She went upstairs and sat down to write. She wanted to capture every detail before it left her mind, surprised by how much inspiration he had given her. His smile, his voice, his kindness. All of it needed to be recorded before it disappeared. She wrote long into the night.

- A.I.N

Next chapter: Chapter 5

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 3

Previous chapter: Chapter 2

She was lying in her bed, completely motionless. She had been writing long into the night. Now that she thought about it, she didn't even remember falling asleep, and even if she did, she was fairly certain she wasn't on her bed. Oh well.

She looked over at her laptop, which was sitting on the floor next to her bed. It was still open, and it turned itself back on as she watched. It did that often, though she wasn't sure why. The cursor blinked at her from where she had stopped writing, halfway through her sentence. She wanted to finish it, but her inspiration had run dry. Her mind was a blank. She couldn't think of something to do, let alone something to write.

She began to trace patterns on her skin, as she often did when she was bored. Her mother used to trace those patterns on her when she couldn't sleep. She liked it back then, but now the thought of it made her skin crawl. Her hands wandered over her body, exploring as if she were a stranger in her own skin. She took off her clothes to get closer, go further. It was a comforting sensation, and she felt less alone when she did it. She was fascinated by how her body reacted to things, to feelings she could cause. Pleasure. Discomfort. Pain. All that, and so much more. It captivated her. She didn't get out of bed until nearly two thirty in the afternoon, but that didn't matter. It's not like she had anywhere to be that day anyway. After she finally got something to eat, she sat down to write.

- A.I.N

Next chapter: Chapter 4

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 2

Previous chapter: Chapter 1

She frantically unlocked her door, moving so fast you'd think someone was chasing her. She opened the door and went inside, pulling it shut behind her. The door slammed, but that wasn't her fault. The door was old and heavy, and it simply couldn't resist making sure everyone knew it was still in use. Once she was safely inside, she started up the stairs, moving much slower now. It had been a long day, and she was quite weary. She made it to her room, closing the door and locking it behind her, despite knowing the house was empty save her. She had been the sole occupant of that old house for longer than she wanted to remember, but still the only way she felt she had any true privacy was when she locked the door.

She grabbed her headphones and turned her music up high, sinking to the floor and letting the melodies calm her aching mind. The singer's voice soothed her like a parent soothes their crying child. She herself was crying, as the stresses of the day no longer had anywhere to go and were forced to spill out through her eyes. She had hardly noticed however, focused entirely as she was on the music. She only realized she was crying when her tears reached her lips, infecting her mouth with the taste of salt and sorrow. She wiped the tears away in frustration. How dare they interrupt her music? Her tears didn't matter anyway. Not to her. Not to anyone else either.

The music notes swirled around in her mind, dancing to the very symphony they created. She envied them. She had never been much of a dancer, and their moves were so fluid and graceful it was taunting, no matter how imaginary it was. The notes danced in a pattern she thought she recognized however, and she got up, part of her wanting to attempt to recreate it, no matter how bad it would be. As she watched through her mind's eye, the dance became more and more elaborate, and she eventually gave up, having never even taken a single step. Still the pattern she had seen was becoming clearer and clearer. She sat down and pulled her laptop to her. If she could not dance it, she would write it instead.

- A.I.N

Next chapter: Chapter 3

[the-muse-of-chaos]

Twisted Inspirations: Chapter 1

She woke suddenly, her head swimming with ideas. She didn't know what time it was. It didn't really matter. She sat for a while, listening to her roof make impossible noises. It sounded as though her ceiling fan was on, but it wasn't. It sounded like a generator was running, but all that was in the attic was insulation, and perhaps the dead body of a squirrel or two. Nothing could have possibly been making that noise, but she heard it anyway. That wasn’t unusual however. Her house was old, older than most people knew, and strange sights and sounds were common. This house could make even a devoted cynic believe in ghosts, and all other manner of dark creatures.

It was perfect.

She continued to listen to that old mechanical heartbeat coming from her roof until she finally shook off the paralysis of waking, and leapt forward to grab her laptop. Like her house, her computer was very old. Nothing she owned was new. Everything she had, she'd had for years, or someone else had had it before her. That was how she liked it. Everything had a story, whether it be hers or someone else's. She opened her laptop and tried to get it to turn on. It had died in its sleep, so she had to move to plug it in. Even then, it took a few tries for it to boot up. Once it did, she fought the urge to be distracted by the many other tabs she had open, and found a place to write. Her inspiration this time had come in the form of a new story, so she ignored the many others she had started, and began anew. This one would be different though. How, she didn't know yet. But it would be different, that she knew for sure.

- A.I.N

Next chapter: Chapter 2