Fire: This idea came to me in the dead of night, so I hope you'll like
this story as much as I do. Lol.

His icy cold blue eyes bore into me like daggers, analyzing every aspect of my appearance and staring deep into my
soul. I couldn't remember ever fearing something or someone, but as his bony, pale hand caressed my cheek, I trembled. His full,
pink lips pressed against my own feverishly, the kiss was neither passionate nor loving, it was needy. He needed this; he needed the release that came with slamming me, unforgivingly, against the cold, white-washed wall of his office. I whimpered as pain exploded in the extremities of my back. He covered my mouth and growled at me to stop. In all the times I had imagined intimacy with Jonathan Crane, I had never fantasized the sheer roughness and longing the blue eyed man projected.

For a moment, I allowed myself to fade back to reality, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke filling my nostrils. I opened my eyes, and watched as a greasy, dirty man violated me in every possible way. I was not with Jonathan Crane, nor was I in a lush office. My body was pressed tightly to the brick wall of an alley way, the skin of my lower back slowly rubbing away as the man forced his way in and out of me violently. I cried out, but I knew it would do no good. This is what I get for denying the psychiatrist when he offered to walk me home. I should have known better. I should have allowed him, but it was too late for that now. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I realized this incident would only make me more undesirable in the willowy man's eyes. I had been screaming for what seemed like hours, and desperately trying to fight my attacker off to no avail. Finally, I gave up and attempted to imagine myself in a more desirable situation, but no matter what, I couldn't deny that I was being deflowered in a back alley in the Narrows of Gotham. I felt my lunch trying to make a second appearance, and swallowed hard, the vomit burning my esophagus as it was forced down. I felt bruises forming on my wrists where the burly criminal's hands held firmly, and blood trickling down the insides of my thighs. I was in more pain then one could imagine, but I couldn't find it in me to cry out of discomfort. I cried out of self-pity, and self-depreciation.

After what seemed like an eternity, the man finished and let me fall to the cold, hard ground. He ran off into the night, and left me there to die of embarrassment. I was ashamed, and hurt, and I felt a headache coming on. I was shaking violently, but somehow managed to push myself off of the ground. I collected my tattered clothing, and put it on in some concealing fashion. I hobbled the rest of the way home, stumbling up the stairs to my apartment when I got there.

I put the key in the lock and turned it, falling through my door almost drunkenly. I needed to shower, to get the smell of the disgusting man off of me and symbolically cleanse myself of his sickness. I was still too shocked for the severity of my situation to sink in, or to even go to the police. All I wanted was to get his stench off of me. I dropped to my knees and crawled to the bathroom, pushing the door open with trembling hands. I flicked on the bright, fluorescent light and clumsily turned on the shower. I ripped the ruined shirt from my body, discarding my skirt shortly after. I drug myself into the tub and laid on the porcelain floor of my shower pathetically, letting the scalding hot water pound down onto my raw flesh mercilessly. It stung the ripped flesh of my back, and filled the numerous cuts that littered my body with its' fiery rage, but I couldn't care less. I felt as if I were steaming away my worthlessness. That maybe, the boiling water would wash away the events of the night, and I would once again be pure, but I didn't see that happening. The longer I laid there, the worse I felt. I scrubbed my skin fervently, leaving it red and stinging when I was done. I would have to call off of work tomorrow, and that would make Jonathan unhappy, just another reason for him to never feel for me like I do for him. I suppose I am racking those up tonight.

I could feel my heart literally drop to my stomach the more I thought about my boss. Surely, he'd find out about what happened, and then what? The little chance I had with him would diminish and I would be left with a chest full of love but no one to give it to. I wasn't sure when I had fallen for the man, but over the past four years I had worked for him our relationship had gone from professional, to friends, to a completely one-sided romance. After all, he was a successful, wealthy, 26 year old psychiatrist. I was a middle-class, 22 year old personal assistant who only had a job at Arkham Asylum because her parents knew people. There was absolutely nothing about me that would impress him, and he'd made that quite clear over the past few months, but tonight…tonight he showed a bit of interest in my safety. He showed a bit of emotion toward me, and I shot it down…assuring that I would be fine and that I had walked through to Narrows plenty of times. Now, not only had I declined the closest thing to a date I had with him, but I lost the only thing I had to offer him..my virginity. I finished cleaning myself off, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself.

On shaking legs, I made my way to my bedroom and curled up in the middle of my bed, crying myself into a restless sleep.