She was still scared of him. Still trembled and cringed away, folding in on herself when he came near her. It upset him more than he thought it would. So many women had screamed and cried and begged for mercy at his hands. He should've been numb to it by now, but she was different.
Those other women were all sacrifices, had died helping him on his quest to find true love. Now he had found it. They had lead him to her.
He didn't want to hurt her. He loved her, more than anything. More than Jim, or her parents. But he'd had to at first. She wouldn't co-operate. His feelings were not returned.
She'd come around. Not yet, but one day. Stockholm syndrome.
He took another step towards her. There was fear it her eyes, but also a hint of madness. Madness he had helped unlock. He had put it there. When he helped her kill her parents, he had showed her the way. She would be like him.
Did she still think of him as a monster? Did she understand now? Now that she had felt the wild rage, the strength as the adrenaline burned, the satisfaction as you watched the life bleed from their eyes. He never got used to it. Which was why he had never stopped.
As he stepped closer, he could've sworn she was leaning in. Leaning in to him. Like no one else ever had, not once they had seen past his façade for the monster he truly was.
Their eyes met, the madness and insanity, the beastliness and brutality, the wild satisfaction, blending together.
She was beautiful. Even covered in blood, teeth bared in a snarl, eyes bloodshot from being pushed over the edge of her sanity, she was beautiful. If anything, she was more beautiful.
The knife was still clenched in her hand. Knuckles white around it. He was proud of her. Had never felt so proud.
Oh, if only Jim Gordon could see her now! The monster she had become!
She definitely was leaning into him. Their faces were close together. Breath mingling. She smelt of blood. It was a good smell. Metallic.
She was the one. She had given up on her hopes of romance. She hadn't cringed when she'd seen the room where he butchered his victims. She was the one.
He looked at her lips. They were gorgeous, bright red and bow shaped. If they kissed, it would be the first time since that first night, when she'd had no idea who or what he was. It would be the first time anyone had kissed him when they knew.
Closer. Closer. The space between them disappearing. He wanted this, so bad. Needed it.
Their lips met in the middle. He could taste blood.
Her lips, still against his, split into a grin. Blood seeped between her teeth and down her chin, giving her the appearance of a vampire. Scary, but incredibly attractive.
Pain split his stomach open. Something in his stomach, stuck, imbedded.
She pulled away, her face complete madness.
He gulped and gagged, coughing and choking and gurgling up blood. The knife was buried up to the hilt in his stomach.
His knees gave way. He sunk. He was on his back. Blackness was creeping in on the edges of his vision. For the first time in his life, he thought about how those girls must've felt. His victims, sliced up.
There was a monster standing over him. A monster with a beautiful, insane face. She wrenched the knife from his stomach, hissing in his face.
As she left, clutching the bloody knife, he had only seconds to comprehend what he had created.
He was proud.