Stumbling up the stairs, I finally was able to swing open the door and stagger into my dingy, run-down apartment. My bones ached and my head was pounding.
She did put up a fight in my arms, little head shrink trying to dig deep inside me, trying to get my name maybe or figure out why I go out with my make-up and green hair blowing up buildings and cutting peoples' faces to be like my own. Or perhaps she wanted to unlock what happened to me as a kid, who pushed the wrong button and finally threw me over the edge...who knows. She didn't get a single relevant thing out of me, all I did was smile at her, until she felt she could...perhaps...trust me? Ha, she even decided that it would be wise to maybe uncuff me...losen my straight jacket just a little and...and she dare touch my scars. Her little hand caressing myright cheek, skinny fingers running along the grooves left in my face after the fishing wire was removed. It sent chills up my spine. She wispered "I can help you." in my ear and i cringed. It was enough. I lept to my feet, wriggled out of my bondages and grabbed her by the throat.
"You want to help?" I snarled, "Then you can show me the way out."
She kneed me in the groin and I gasped in pain. She started kicking at me but I refused to let go. I wanted out of this place and she was either going to show me the door or I would kill her and find it myself.
I grabbed her tightly and she wimpered something along the lines of "okay, okay." She got me out of the hospital wear and back in my own clothes. She led me down the hallway and let me out through the parking garage. As I began to walk away, she grabbed my arm. I glared down at her but she looked into my eyes...a look that no woman had ever really given me. I shrugged, broke free of her grasp, and continued on my way.
And now, I was here. Aching still from my scuffle with old Batsy and a semi-bruised sack from this woman's high-heeled shoe. I removed my suit jacket and wandered to my bathroom sink. I couldn't remember the last time I saw the bare skin on my face...I still had that youthful look to me, I guess, if you could see past the gashes on either side of my mouth. I ran a hand through my hair, it was getting yellowed...I'd have to fix that.
As I continued to stare at my scars, I wondered about that woman. Why? Why did she take such interest in my scars that she felt the need to run her finger over them? And why did she keep staring...I mean, people stare at me with terror, with anger, they stare while calling me "freak" and a "mad dog"..but this stare was different. I never saw any fear in her eyes, even when I was hurting her. She had a different feeling in her when she set her eyes upon me.
And for once, someone frightened me...even if it was just a little, that little jump that I did when she touched me. It annoyed me.
Ha. Ha. Ho.