Blood On Your Hands

Maybe it was the sting or maybe it was the thrill you couldn't be sure. Or the idea that what you were doing was taboo and no one could make you stop. The only thing you knew was you liked it more than you should and had no plans to stop. No one seemed to understand what it was like having to do the same thing every day to the point where you thought you were going crazy. Your head hurt all the time, full of thoughts, ideas, unspoken words, anger, just everything. Sometimes you got so lost in thought you forgot to breath, gasping for air when you remembered. You knew one day it was just going to come out whether you liked it or not. Those long days just spent staring at the wall or contemplating how would it feel just to jump out of a moving taxi, not to die, just to feel. You hated your job, your life, fake friends, but mostly you hated routine. To you, the life you lived felt like a cage and with each day that passed the animal within you grew more restless. The only thing you didn't know was what type of animal would escape but you certainly never imagined one that lusted for blood.

It all started late one night as all bad things do. A simple bad day, wrong time, wrong place, that's all it took. You were walking home, some foul-smelling thugs jumped you and then you woke up in an alleyway. They had you cornered back against a grimy wall. You thought you would have been scared at the time but deep down you were relived for the change even if it was bad. They demanded money you laughed at the thought. Had they not noticed there wasn't a purse on you? Or even a wallet? Amateurs. They didn't like being insulted and promptly held a knife to your face, you stared unimpressed, they looked young and foolish clearly. Upon seeing your reaction, they then held the knife impatiently to your neck it was cold you noted. Goosebumps rose across your skin. You waited for them to make a move sitting patiently, both were drenched in sweat, this was probably their first mugging. Maybe you could scare them you thought suddenly.

So, when they didn't do anything, you did it for them, leaning forward you felt the knife cut shallowly into your chest, blood running down your shirt. It tickled. You had never harmed yourself before but it felt…good. Not in a sexual way like most people assumed, no, but it felt like a clarity of your usually buzzing head had calmed. Stilled. You couldn't feel the rings anymore, the self-doubt…just nothing. Causing you to moan softly at the pleasant feeling in your head for once, it was like the relief of taking an aspirin that had finally kicked in. When you came to you realized that the two men that had jumped you dropped the knife and ran saying something about a 'crazy freak'. You then reached for the knife taking it in one hand and bringing in alongside the insides on your left arm. Softly caressing your skin, shivering in anticipation, heart beating quickly. You pushed down gently, pulling the blade towards you, blood trickling slowly down the curve of your arm. It stung, burned even but with it came liberation, you could breathe again and the air felt thick, metallic in taste. You let a small smile pass on your lips leaning your head against the wall.

You walked home feeling more alive than ever, red drops following you all the way home.

It was a new beginning.

Since this awakening you had been exploring the seedier sides of Gotham, places that used to cause you suspicion where welcomed now. That's how you found yourself in line with the mob or at least you knew them, they didn't bother you and you didn't bother them. You found this place to be a home of crime, all things bad and wrong, it felt good being out of place. It was a mid-scale club the music wasn't terrible and the entertainment was usually bloody. For a long time, you just watched the betting fights, you grew interested but never acted or betted. The lounge that Falcone owned was nice and had all sorts of shady characters that you could watch.

Then you decided to take up fighting classes out of curiosity, getting stronger, trying to release some of the energy that was building up in your head. It worked for a while. That is until you were having a particularly bad day. The men always picked on you when you were there asking you to join in or place a bet and you always declined. You were content with what you had going, feeding off their adrenaline but today was different. Today at work you had a bad customer, leading you to quit much to everyone's shock and the anger still hadn't subsided.

But then one of the more annoyingly prideful thugs made a pass at you, saying you were too pussy to fight and if you didn't join in this time they wouldn't let you come back (you assumed they would probably kill you). You felt as if they had lit a fuse within you, the anger coming back quickly. Your vision blurred only seeing red.

Suddenly you found yourself on your feet, laying down a few hundred bucks on yourself, and hoping into the makeshift ring. You took off your long sleeves so that only your undershirt was on, ignoring the stares of the mess that was your arms. Red line on both sides, angry looking and some fresh, they stung like hell causing you to close your eyes as the buzz resided only for a moment. The thug in question just laughed and grinned saying how he would win, easy. After all he said you fight yourself more than you could ever fight me. He even spat at you, causing the others to laugh.

For the next five minutes, the only thing you saw was red.

After this you don't remember much but when you finally 'woke up' you were covered in blood, straddling the now deceased thug whose face was unrecognizable. You must have pulled his eye out as it was hanging from its socket and his nose was completely flat, teeth laying here and there. His face looked like a pile of mush with a wad of blood soaked hair on top.

Dee-e-lici-ous.

The silence was deafening and you knew everyone's eyes were on you. You didn't want to kill him, just fight, you didn't understand what happened. The only thing you knew is it felt good, your muscles were sore, scars bleeding lightly from being opened and your head was the clearest it has been since that fateful day. The adrenaline was making your head focus the thoughts nearly gone.

You stand easily, wiping a spec of blood from your lip and with a sudden feeling of self-confidence say "Rematch?"

Silence fills the air, you taste blood, his.

A slow clap begins to start and soon the whole lounge is cheering, either out of fear or excitement maybe both. You'll never know. You nod, walking to take your earnings and your shirt back, perhaps you'll return perhaps not. You realize everything has changed whether you wanted it to or not.

The cage has been opened and you know you're never going back.

As you are about to exit the building, pushing through the crowd to get to the backdoor, cheers still filling the room a voice cuts through.

"Tell me…" a man drawled in a slow voice.

You just stared back, unblinking. He shifted his glasses.

Blue eyes staring right into yours.

This man oozed danger.

You licked your lips.

"Are you ah-fraid of going too far? Knowing that one day you might just go too far, too deep, too many. All that blood surrounding you, pouring out while you sit helpless unable to do anything. It'll be your last. You'll never get to feel the rush again. Never get to be so in control again. All because you just had to add another. So, tell me is that what you fear?" He asked voice filling with satisfaction and a soft growl behind each line.

You scoff, a smirk shaping on your lips. You've seen him around, he worked closely with the owner. You and he were the only two who didn't seem to fit it, it was a wonder it took you this long for your first conversation. While everyone else fit the typical thug profile in the club you two always stuck out.

"No."

A sour looked crossed his face, he thought he had pegged you.

His lips frowned slightly.

You winked.

"It's knowing that if I am dead I won't be able to do it again." You stated simply, there was nothing to hide. "You underestimate Doc-tor Crane. It's the only thing that keeps me sane." You added, smiling lightly. You both knew that wasn't the case, not anymore. He had seen you, the realyou.

The blood on your hands was sticky and you could taste iron. You decided you liked it better when it was your own.

You watched his eyes shift, those blue eyes suddenly becoming darker.

He could have kissed you.

And maybe you let him.