She stared at him, blood welling up and becoming slippery under his hands as he held her still. Returning the burning gaze she kept on him, he felt a grin come to his face again. Suddenly releasing her, he laughed, her body slamming back down against the mattress.
"I'll make you a deal. If you can get to and out the door before the time I get back with something to get you to calm down, you can leave. I'll give you your keys and everything," he said, his mouth pulled in a grin.
Suddenly pushing himself to his knees, knowing from the get go she wouldn't figure it out, he grabbed the fabric of his pants that had bunched up around his feet, buttoning them and zipping the fly shut before he scoot a few inches back to sit on the opposite side of the mattress, giving her the space to get up and run.
She scrambled to get to her feet, arms banging against the door as her hands frantically shook, unable to handle a lock if her life depended on it - which in this case it quite did - and it was pretty entertaining watching this girl tremble. He pushed himself to his feet, remembering the aid in shushing even the most terrified of his guests he kept in the cabinets of the bathroom. Having met and successfully bought some shit off of the man who had earlier released a toxic chemical into the water supply, he was interested in seeing just what exactly it was that made everybody so goddamn insane that one night. In cases where the bitch wouldn't stop fighting he'd spray some of it in her face, and off he went to take his time before he'd choke her.
Her back remaining turned from him, he walked across the room and into the bathroom, her continuing to try and flip the locks, unhinge the chains, shaking the handle violently, about to break it off if she tried any harder. Opening the mirror and grabbing the small, red bag with the bottle the guy had given him, he got out the spray, tossing the red bag onto the sink counter and coming out to introduce her.
"Hey, hey," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, her hands still trying to unlock the door. He aimed the bottle at the back of her head.
He leaned his mouth close to her ear. "Hey."
Her head snapped around, eyes wide and mouth open as suddenly he pulled the trigger of the bottle, spraying the contents into her face. Immediately going into a fit of coughing, she fell back down to the floor, curling up as she heaved and gasped for air. Her vision began to blur, noises around her amplifying as her heart raced, eyes dashing back and forth as they tried to hold onto anything, any object that would keep her focused enough to not go unconscious.
Leaning to the ground and scooping her into his arms, he pulled her back into the illuminated part of the room, her body colliding very roughly with the mattress as the different colors of the room started to blind her, her heart beating so fast she couldn't catch her breath. Eyes open as wide as they'd ever been she panted for air, the sudden pale-faced figure that lured over her made her scream.
Shit, he forgot how bad this would make a person trip. Reaching for the tie she pulled off of him and tossed to the ground, he grabbed her head, wrapping the tie around her eyes until her vision was completely sealed shut. He cupped his hand over her mouth, silencing the further screams that burst from her chest.
"Just calm down," he whispered into her ear. "If you relax you'll calm down. Go to sleep."
As much as he loved the fight, he had to admit, it was a Tuesday night, and with that window being open, somebody was bound to get suspicious because of all these screams, even in this shitty neighborhood. He felt her starting to go limp in his arms, every feeling overwhelming her to the point of fainting as she once again grabbed onto the fabric covering his shoulders, bunching it in her fingers, her head pressing against his chest as he heard her losing her breaths. He took his hand off of her mouth, one final breath passing through before she fell backwards, unconscious.
..........
Her lids opened lazily, the lightly striped pillow her head rested on blocking her vision of the room illuminated by the pale light cast down outside, the bright gray sky peaking above the brick building outside. It must've been the marine fog, she thought. Why else would it be cloudy in July? The sleep she'd awoken from clung to her like garments, the warmth from her body resonating in the thick, green blanket wrapped around her making her all the more tired and willing to close her eyes again. She gave in, momentarily digging her head back into the soft pillow, pulling the blanket tight and bringing her knees up to her chest as she sighed, the weight of sleep dragging her further towards unconsciousness.
She remembered where she was. Of course she knew. He'd drugged her at some point and she'd passed out. Whatever he'd done after that she didn't want to know. She could feel the deep ache in her body, the soreness in her bones as she curled up.
The light that had flooded the room was even obvious to her with closed eyes, the normal darkness she would've seen made red, nearly orange by the rays that touched down to the floor. Squeezing her lids tightly she tried to block out the color, bringing her blanketed hand to rest across her face, surrounding her again with darkness, sleep sounding better more than ever. It was only when she yawned she began to recognize the sounds of words being spoken, a small electric hum filling her ears as she recognized the precise rhythm of speech as only a reporter could recite, the brief sound of a television theme song she knew to be that of one of the news channels here confirming her suspicion. Curious and almost nervous to see what she was about to wake up to, she opened her eyes, the pillow still blocking a corner of her vision.
A small television was propped up on a chair with a dark jacket hung over it, cord hanging from it's side and connected to the outlet on the wall with the window, pushed into the corner and facing the opposite wall. She could see the face of a woman wearing a yellow dress shirt on the screen, white dangling earrings standing out against her short black hair so vividly even her sleep clouded eyes could see them. A blue bar with the letters of her name spelled out across it appeared at the bottom of the screen, followed by a decent sized photo of a mug shot in the top right corner, small white font of the words "JOKER KILLINGS" under it.
Her eyes widened. Straining to hear her voice, the low volume being drowned in the sounds of traffic outside let in by the open window, she watched as the woman spoke, eyes never breaking with the camera until the mug shot in the right hand corner suddenly filled the screen.
There was his face again. There was that smirk. White makeup and dirty hair above a snug green vest and blue shirt peered forward, bright red smeared across his face like he'd just clawed it himself before the photo was snapped with black ink running down his eyes and cheeks. The photo was now accompanied by a listing of his height, weight, brown eyes, the special notes of his hair being multiple colors and several scars on his face covered with makeup underlined, as well as the message to call 911 if anyone matching such a description should be seen.
Just before she could have any doubt, she heard a quiet chuckle come from what she was knew was her side of the room.
Well, I guess if I was even about to wonder if I was hallucinating last night…
She turned her head upwards, using her hand to push down the pillow that blocked her view, somehow not surprised to see him sitting in the opposing corner, back pressed against the same wall she lie inches from, legs extended forward with his arms folded across his chest, made up face still pulled in that same smile they both saw on the television. She watched him take a breath, resting his head against the wall and looking towards the open window, eyes on the fog that hovered above the building as he put his arms to his sides, one hand going into a pocket and removing a cigarette case. Flipping it open and selecting the first item he saw, he put the cigarette in his mouth, shutting the case and digging back into his pocket to get a lighter. Rubbing his thumb against the trigger until a small flame showed it's head, he burned the tip until the smoke curled up and away from the cigarette, taking the opportunity to inhale it as he released the trigger and shoved the lighter back into his pocket.
She sighed. "Could I get one of those?"
His head snapped to the side, completely unaware she'd even opened her eyes. The sudden breath he'd taken in pushed the smoke further down his lungs, getting a small cough from him as he brought up his other hand to cover his mouth.
"You smoke?"
She nodded. "Since I was a kid."
He squinted a little bit. She didn't look like much past eighteen, if that. Guess maybe that's why I was surprised she was out on a school night. "How long ago was that, like… five, six years ago?"
She smiled. "I get that a lot."
"I bet. Reds okay?" he asked, hands prying open the case again, pinning a cigarette between his index and middle fingers.
She nodded. "I haven't had one in awhile. They're strong, lots of tobacco."
"Yeah, well," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet and making the short distance trip between them, handing her the lit cigarette from his mouth and sparking the other before sitting down next to the mattress, "I like tobacco."
She took the cigarette from his hand, noticing for the first time the massive bruises on his fingers and undeniably feeling her heart speed up as she'd seen him get up and come closer, arm almost shaking as she lifted herself to her elbow and unwound her legs, swinging them to the edge of the mattress as she straightened her arm so she could sit with her back to the wall. Her legs peaked out from under the blanket, legitimately surprised to see the skirt he'd pulled off of her last night back around her hips. Now that she thought about it, her shirt was buttoned to the collar, too. Eyes briefly glancing to her side, she saw his clothing was in the same manner, blue shirt she'd pulled off hours earlier now buttoned, green vest around him again, fabric even fastened at the wrists. His gloves were nowhere to be seen, her eyes trailing his legs down to the bows his shoelaces remained tied in as she took a drag off of the cigarette, the end a little damp from the prior owner's lips.
She seemed to be a little bit more than thankful for the fact that he'd put her clothes back on. It didn't seem fair she should wake up, still panicked and possibly tripping from those chemicals he'd sprayed in her mouth the night before to find out she was still naked and bleeding down her thighs because of him. Whatever that guy with the scratched up sack over his face had the tendency to fuck people up permanently over what they saw, so he'd wrapped his tie around her eyes until she was undoubtedly asleep. He'd rather liked that rush he'd gotten when he'd first tried that shit, but he wasn't going to give her something that'd make her trip so hard when she was already convinced she was about to die. No, none of that.
He felt almost bad over it. Yeah, he'd been lying before. He did care, purely because she was nice. Any girl who would touch his scarred up mouth had to have something different from the rest he'd come and gone through. He'd never gone so rough so fast before, he felt alright himself but he knew she had to be feeling like shit. He'd actually taken the time to go get a wash cloth and clean the blood off of her legs while she was passed out, put her clothes back on and wrapped her in the only blanket he had. He even shut the window so it wouldn't be cold, something that made him feel like losing his fucking mind sometimes. He didn't like the stuffy air, it was almost intolerable for him to be anywhere where air wasn't circulating. Just didn't feel right. But it was July, and it didn't take long for it to get warm in the day now, so when he'd woken up around eight he'd pushed the window open and let the stale air out. He'd flipped on the television to see if he was right about the time – he'd managed to catch the morning news and look at his reflection on broadcast television.
The lady at the news desk was repeating the events he'd rehashed in his dreams before the sound of a truck honking the horn woke him up. Saying the police had almost caught him until the wire he was dangling from snapped; from there, no one saw what happened to him. There was no body found on the pavement or any signs or means of escape. Then they'd put up his details, and that goddamn mug shot. It's not like anybody thought he was really alive anyways.
Watching the girl beside him taking another drag off of the cigarette in her hand, smoke creeping from her nostrils before slowly exhaled reminding him of the consistently burning cigarette in his hand, ash starting to form. Breathing in all he could and holding it deep in his chest, another grin plucking at his lips as the taste in his mouth reminded him he'd put a little bit extra in these cigarettes to push them in the direction of the special variety for when shit started getting too hectic; he sure as hell had lit one when she'd fallen asleep.
Oh, wow. The smell's pretty obvious. Who gives a shit though, it's not like I'm ever going to show up for work again. It is a cool combination, though. She glanced to her side, noticing the grin on his face as he noticed her head turned, the two making eye contact.
"Hah… yeah. Forgot," he said, nodding towards the cigarette before taking another drag and resting his head against the wall, directing his vision to the ceiling.
She felt herself started to grin back. "It's all good, it's just been a really long time."
His smile widened. "Kind of a recent thing for me. Just been getting pretty popular, if you haven't noticed."
She didn't want to answer that. "Where do you get it from?"
He shrugged. "Usually it's a peace offering. Never really wanted to until shit started getting chaotic."
Yeah. She took a long breath in, lungs feeling surprising good. "Understood."
"I think I need to wait until it's dark again to take you back. I thought you'd be asleep for longer. I predict it wouldn't be easy for me to sneak around," he said quietly.
She nodded. "Okay."
He turned his head towards her. "I said I wasn't going to kill you."
She looked at him. "I know."
"I'm not going to, so you don't have to shake every time I look at you."
Turning her head away, she felt her face starting to go red, her voice caught in her throat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "I don't mean to."
A small sound was carried in the exhale of smoke from his mouth. "I certainly hope not."
"It's just hard not to."
He lifted his brows, voice falling flat. "Meaning."
She shrugged, her elbow pointing down towards the bed. "Just isn't the first time."
Makes sense. He sighed, pulling his head forward and moving closer to her. Again, he saw her flinch. If she didn't knock that shit off he felt entitled to prove the principal of the goddamn thing and pin her down again. Using his free hand to touch her face, he remained wordless, wiping off the tear he'd just seen spill down her cheek.
"None of that," he muttered. None of the girls ever really cried, and if they did it was only what they wanted they to do him. He didn't like this shit, it was too similar.
She nodded her head.
"Nonetheless you don't need to keep thinking I'm going to kill you, if you think you need to do something to guarantee that you can let me sleep next to you, this floor is fucking uncomfortable."
She nodded again. "Sure."
He made eye contact. "Do you want anything?"
"What?"
He shrugged. "Anything. Food, water?"
She looked at the wounds she could see on his face, those that had been fresh early this morning mixed with makeup for hours. She could already see it was looking nasty.
"Wash your face, those cuts are going to get infected."
He looked at her blankly. "What."
She felt her heart speed up again. Goddamn it, she needed to watch what she said. "It would be bad if they got infected, the makeup's just exacerbating it."
He grinned. "'Exacerbating.' Fancy."
"You know what I mean," she said quietly, eyes going to the floor.
He was quiet for a few seconds. "You just want to see."
"What, infections?" she legitimately asked.
He shook his head. "No. You just want to see."
Scars. She closed her eyes, feeling stupid all over again. "Shit, that's not what I meant," she said, shaking her head. "Honestly, I didn't mean it like that."
He looked across the room, a smile pinned on his face again. "It's okay. Sounds like a good idea anyways. Be a dear," he said, extending his hand to hers, passing off the cigarette to her as he got up again, walking across the room and through a door on the wall she hadn't noticed before.
A light switched on, loud buzzing coming from it as it lit a shower curtain, the sound of water running through the pipes even louder as the sink was switched on. She could hear water filling up in his cupped hands, running over his face, the cycle continuous for a minute or so until he had scrubbed the wounds clean and reemerged.
Those brown eyes were wide again, lips parted as she stared at him. He tried not to frown.
"What, not clean enough?" he muttered, not making eye contact as he stepped forward, taking back his cigarette from her unmoving hand, sitting back down beside her and taking a deep drag of it.
When more than a few seconds of silence passed, he turned his head only to see her ongoing stare.
"What."
It was far worse than anything she could've imagined. She could see the dip in the skin formed by the jagged scars, the angled tips on the end curved upwards, some psychotic rendition of a smile. There was still a little bit of makeup caked in the corner of his eyes and stained on the side of his nose.
It didn't take long for her to see the anger boiling under his skin, how his jaw shook as he unsuccessfully tried to stop himself from frowning.
"What," he repeated, "t" drawn out unnecessarily long.
"Where did you get them?" she asked quietly
He suddenly grinned, accompanied by the shaking of his head. "Not unless you tell first."
She looked away, that compromise not enough to give further detail. Maybe it was the same one who did it to him. Would make a whole lot of sense as to why she's too scared to talk about it, I'm not exactly thrilled to keep bringing it up.
She turned back to look at him. Watching again as he took a drag off his cigarette, almost to the end of it, her eyes studied his, looking so much more different without black completely covering them. Very faintly on his stained pale skin she could see brown freckles, now noticing the tips of white he'd forgotten to wash off of his ears. She didn't know why, but it made her smile a little bit.
Silence again hung in the air, getting him further aggravated as he turned to face her, only to see her smiling. She got embarrassed again when he looked her in the eye.
"Something funny?" he muttered, taking another drag.
"You have freckles."
He squinted. "What about them."
"I like them."
"Why?"
"I don't know. You still have some paint on your ears."
He half scoffed. "So?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just not thinking that well right now. Tired."
He nodded. "Same." He glanced over to her, motioning to the empty space next to her on the mattress. "Do you mind if I join you then?"
She shook her head, scooting across the mattress to give him the space she had just been sitting in. Putting out her cigarette on the floor, he did the same before lifting himself up, kicking off his shoes before staring down at her, her back still against the wall.
"Lie flat."
Not interested in meeting a knife again when she didn't follow his orders, she lowered herself down to the right, bringing her legs back against the wall, adjusting accordingly to lie in a comfortable position. He got down, straightening his body as he rest next to her, a breath leaving his body before he turned his head to look at her.
"Are you cold?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head.
He left his eyes on her. "I am a little bit."
She lowered her hand, pulling out the blanket from beneath the two of them before handing it to him. "Here, you can have it."
He muttered something she couldn't understand before she felt his arm lie over chest, again hovering over her before he leaned down to steal a kiss from her. Resting back down and pulling the blanket over his body, as he closed his eyes she repeated his words in her head over and over again until the sounds strung together made sense, the words she had missed being "Thank you."
Feeling suddenly compelled to return the favor, she turned towards him, extending her arm out across his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. She heard him sigh, eyes remaining shut.
"Why now?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you so friendly now, but if I respond you'd cringe?"
"I'm just dumb… I guess…" she said, unsure of what an acceptable response would be. I don't know, maybe it's because earlier you were going to slit my throat? She just wanted to last long enough to get out of here, and her prior plan of going along with what he wanted seemed to be prolonging her life.
"No," he muttered, shaking his head, the weight of her arm over his chest such a good feeling. "I'm not interested in your overcompensation."
Sliding her hand back across his chest, she brought her thumb to her tongue, licking it before she brought it to his earlobe, smudging off the remaining white makeup that clung to his skin.
He felt his closed eyes rolling into the back of his head, feeling he'd gotten so much more than he'd bargained for now and for once thankful of the conscience that tended to fuck with him at every other opportunity. A smile forced its way onto his mouth, his lips pulled back over his teeth as a little laugh came out of his chest.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.
"I told you, you missed a little," she said, thumb running over the scar in his lobe from when he'd had his ear pierced, exactly like the ones she had in her lobes. "When you'd have your ears pierced?"
"When I was eighteen and trying to be rebellious," he muttered, face turning towards hers before he opened his eyes. "When did you?"
"Thirteenth birthday present."
"Ah, yeah, that's right. It's a right of passage for girls."
She nodded, resting her head against his chest, her hand coming down from his ear and following the curve between his neck and shoulder.
"I do have a legitimate question for you, though."
She looked up at him.
"Why didn't you try to escape until I had to force you to try?"
She remained still. "I'm trying to prove I'm trustworthy."
His irises flittered back and forth between hers. "You don't have to prove anything to me, I already told you I'm not going to kill you."
She shrugged. "If I'm going to be here, I might as well not make it any worse on myself."
He nodded, another laugh coming through. "Understood." He raised his arm that had lie between the two, folding it as he took her hand in his. "Better? Feel more like the real thing?"
She nodded. "A little. Can I ask you something then?"
"Sure."
She attempted to swallow past the nerve wracking feeling she had in asking the question. "What were you running from?"
He was quiet before letting out a rather loud sigh, the memory of the dream he'd been startled out of too similar to the prior night. "Oh, that," he whispered, voice shaky.
"I heard your footsteps, you were running fast," she said.
He blinked. "Yeah. I, uh… I seemed to have been cornered… I guess more appropriately hung on a hook for law enforcement to come arrest me. Wire snapped, I fell a few stories, wire caught on scaffolding, got flung into the building. Ran down some stairs and down the block, and, there were those brake lights." He stopped to pull another grin across his face. "Such a godsend."
"I was trying to turn around in that garage so I could head home. The streets were so packed full of people, figured I would try to find another way there."
"Mm, I almost forgot about that."
"I don't even know what so many people were doing out late, it was just weird."
"You don't watch the news much, do you?"
"Yeah, I do, just been working weird, late hours lately so I never seem to be at a screen to watch it when it's on."
He chuckled. "I just did my typical behavior, seems I have their full attention now."
The dread that was pooled in her stomach became ever more awake, nearly keeping her from speaking. "What happened?"
He craned his neck, putting his mouth as close as he could to her ear. "I filled two ferries with explosives and gave each boat the opposite's detonator. They had until midnight to decide who goes up before they both did."
Her eyes went wide. Oh, my god… that's why he was the first thing on the news… that's what he'd been running from. Makes sense what all those people were doing; you were right by the docks.
"You aren't disheartened now, are you?" he asked after she'd remained silent for several seconds.
"No, just, shocked…" she said.
His voice fell flat. "Don't be, they didn't do it."
"Really?"
He licked his lips. "Yep. Surprised even me. Surprised even more I lived through that shit. Now no one knows where I am and they're going out in full force looking."
I guess now's the chance to say it. "I won't tell anyone," she said.
"Even if you did I doubt anyone would believe you, people saw me plummet a few stories towards the ground. Probably think somebody just scraped my body off the pavement and then dumped it in the ocean." He grinned again. "I don't think you know where you are, anyways."
"You're right, I don't. I'm not from here originally, just moved for the job."
"Mm, even better, I remain reassuringly untraceable."
"You grow up here?"
He slowly nodded. "Unfortunately."
"That's rough. Can't imagine this city was that nice."
"You have no idea."
Closing her eyes and again resting her head on his shoulder, she let out a deep breath, tiredness weighing down her lids as she settled into comfortable darkness. She felt him do the same thing.
As tired as – if not more than – she, his final movement came in tossing the edge of the blanket over her side, successfully covering her with one, swift movement before he turned his head towards the top of hers, almost forgetting what fingers curling around his hands felt like until she reaffirmed her grip. This was odd, even by his standards. He'd never had a girl seemingly accept and perhaps even enjoy being taken over, who put all her effort into whatever he wanted rather than their attempt to escape. Whatever it was, he seemed to trust he wouldn't regret falling asleep now, that he wouldn't be getting fucked over for letting his guard down at this very moment. Some of his knives were in his coat pocket that hung on the chair, a few others still in his pants; should the girl get up and get one while he was sleeping, she could easily gut him. Even if she did, she had the right to, and he wasn't going to deny her the chance if she so felt like it. He wasn't any model citizen who deserved any mercy.
..........
A good amount had passed before he saw her raise her head again. He'd gotten up around four, drank the remainder of alcohol he'd kept in the bathroom cabinet and watched the television again. He'd sat down just in time to watch another broadcast of the news, catching the far bigger story than his disappearance. Harvey Dent was dead, and not only that, but supposedly killed by that "batman." Dropped off a couple stories, killed along with a handful of others over the night by the same man. He shook his head.
No, no, no, Batman didn't kill him he thought as he lit another cigarette. He knew first hand by how fast he stuck to his moral code. Such bullshit that anyone would even begin to assume he was even capable of killing somebody. He was almost certain Harvey'd been the one that killed the others in the body count he'd been lumped into, he recognized other names in that list and it was too close to be a coincidence. He couldn't help but feel a little sad hearing Harvey was dead, he hadn't thought he was that bad of a guy.
She looked up at him, no longer tired, moving back to her prior position of her back against the wall as she pushed the blanket away from her. The open window had let the heat from outside in over the day, the sounds of traffic still audible. Her sides were achy, pain nagging constantly at her as she sat quietly, observing him the way she had in the morning.
"How are you?" she asked.
He turned his head gently towards her, smoke exhaling from his nose. "Rested."
She nodded. "What time is it?"
He glanced back towards the television. "Around half past five, I think. We'll leave in a few hours."
She closed her eyes, laying her head on the wall. It got dark around eight thirty now, should only be another three hours before she was gone. The second she was home she wanted to take a hot shower, curl up and go back to sleep. God, nothing sounded better than that.
He had nothing to do once she was gone. Quite a common phenomenon for him, but he was nonetheless going to be sad to see her go. He was used to knowing exactly where his victims ended up, it'll be a little different this time knowing she'd still be alive and around the city, possibly one day seeing her again should he be so lucky. Turning his head in her direction, he cast his eyes on her face, her obviously uncomfortable frame looking more apathetic than ever. Mm, something about that shit was making it impossible for him to enjoy this. Something had tripped up him since she'd said this wasn't the "first" time, assuming that meant this wasn't the first time somebody was doing the same horrible shit he just had. Once again, an example of how his conscience would fuck with him.
He figured he'd ask. He took another drag from his cigarette. "So, this wasn't the first time?"
Her eyes opened, her head snapping back forward and turning in the opposite direction of him. "Uhm, no."
He nodded, eyes momentarily drifting back to the television as he took another drag. "So what was?"
She shook her head. "Does it matter?"
He shrugged. "Maybe a little. Is that where those scars came from?"
It took her a few seconds to mutter the word "Yeah."
A sigh passed through his mouth, carrying with it his reply. "I figured. Just not fair."
Her eyes stared blankly ahead of her. "What isn't?"
"They shouldn't have done that."
She scoffed. "Yeah? Like you shouldn't of?"
He grinned. I really do enjoy these fights. "Mhmm," he mumbled, lips around the cigarette again.
"Which you probably will do again," she murmured.
He shook his head. "I can guarantee you I won't." It's just not as fun for me anymore. She doesn't look like her at all, but she's doing a good job of reminding me of her… and making me feel like him. Ah, what a bunch of goddamn introspective nightmares I've been running into lately..
"No, you can't."
He laughed. "Oh, come on now, haven't I been honest the rest of this time? It's the only thing I hold sacred. I might be a bastard but at least I've got a manner or two."
When she didn't reply, he faced her with a wide grin on his face, again pushing himself up and crossing the room to pick up his jacket that hung over the seat the television lie in. Digging into the coat's pocket, inhaling and exhaling another puff from the cigarette, he removed the handgun he carried on him just for the novelty of it.
She heard his footsteps coming closer to her, the shift in the air of the room as he stopped in front of her, his shadow cast on the wall with the door bent down towards her, arm extending something out to her. She turned her heard towards him, eyes going wide when she stared down the barrel aimed at her.
"Honestly. Here, if you think I'll try again," he said, trying to hand off a gun to her that she'd had no idea he carried on him the entirety of the night, another trail of smoke leaving his nose. Nausea rising in her throat at he pointed the gun at her, he saw the same goddamn fear he'd been trying to work around looking back at him, suddenly realizing he'd tried to hand her the gun barrel first.
"Ahh, dumb," he said, putting the gun down on the floor and spinning it until the barrel now pointed at him. "Didn't mean it like that."
She didn't want to reach out and grab the gun just yet. He watched her eye it before he sighed, picking up the gun again and forcing it into her hands, maneuvering her fingers so one rested on the trigger as he knelt down in front of her.
"I've got at least three or four bullets left, you shoot the fuck out of me if you suspect foul play."
The metal of the gun was warming up quickly in her palm, his eyes gazing down and meeting hers.
"So why now for you?" she asked.
He grinned. "You aren't so fun for me anymore."
Her face fell flat. "Why?"
He felt like being cold, another drag taken off his cigarette. "Used products."
Brows furrowed angrily. "That's pretty fucked."
His smile widened. "Good choice of words."
She shook her head again, a little glimpse of a tear poking out from the corner of her eye. "You're an asshole. I didn't get any answer out of you and then mock you with it."
He sighed. True. "You should know me well enough to expect that so far. And I'm not trying to mock you, I just typically don't filter anything I say."
She looked through him. "Then just be quiet for the next three hours."
Now his brows were furrowed. "Ah, no can do. I said I wasn't going to kill you, not that I would shut my mouth."
Leaning forward, he flicked the cigarette out of his hand before bringing it to up to her face, holding her steady as he pressed a kiss to her lips, his eyes shutting as he trailed his hand down her arm and rested it at the bend of her elbow. He slipped his tongue between her lips, convincing her mouth to open before going deeper, trying to smother the next hateful thing he feared she'd say. Things were going well so far, he wanted to keep it so.
She cocked the gun she'd pressed to his temple, the sound echoing in their ears as she felt his lips curve into a smile, tasting smoke on his breath and feeling a rumble from his throat vibrating his lips as they separated, his forehead now pressed against hers.
"Well now," he whispered, eyes locking with hers. "Are you going to do it?"
She stared back. She didn't want to, she honestly didn't want to, but if he didn't get the fuck off of her – especially after that little comment he'd made about her being used – she didn't have a second thought about firing those bullets into his skull.
"Well?" he asked again.
She remained silent.
He didn't appreciate being threatened with a weapon, especially when he didn't think the person on the other side of it wasn't going to make due. It was such a tease to him.
"I suggest you make a decision, I'm about to snap your wrist in half if you don't."
Continuing his stare, he couldn't deny feeling the smallest bit of relief when he felt the gun leave his temple, seeing in the corner of his eye as her hand rest on the mattress, gun released and hand returning to her side.
Another grin. "Much better. I don't intend to make these next few hours miserable for you, I just figured you'd know I'd probably try to cop another feel before you go. Won't be going anymore farther than that, I promise."
She didn't speak whatsoever. He pulled his face away from hers, resting back on his feet as he picked up the lit cigarette he'd tossed to the ground, taking another drag before ashing it.
"Hungry?" he asked.
Again, she was caught off guard. "Kind of," she lied.
He stood up again, holding the cigarette between his lips as he went back into the bathroom and opened up what sounded to be the cabinets under the sink, watching as his bent frame backed out of the doorway holding what looked like a huge, metal box. He placed the object on the floor, flipping open the top of it, revealing itself as a portable stove. He returned to the bathroom, bending down and tugging out a medium sized cardboard box, placing it next to the stove and pulling out a small pan he then put over one of the heating plates. He reached back into the cardboard, his hand returning with a large can of soup that he used to motion towards her with.
"It's basic, but I've got some vegetable soup," he said, making eye contact with her again. "Thirsty?"
She'd felt how dry her mouth was before he'd asked the question. She nodded.
He reached into the box again, this time now holding a small bottle of water he skidded across the room to her. It bumped into the mattress, her hand reluctantly reaching out to pick it up, the pain he'd implanted in her lower body ringing clear as she leaned her body forward. She slowly unscrewed the lid, his back turned to her now as he switched on the stove, his fingers prying the lid off of the soup before he poured it into the pan in front of him. Again going into the box, he pulled out two small bowls, tossing a plastic spoon into each of them as he turned to look at her, another puff of smoke exiting his nostrils.
"Nothing fancy, but, it's doable," he muttered.
She nodded. "I don't cook much either," she said before taking a sip out of the bottle he'd tossed to her.
"Who has the time?" he asked, eyes glancing over hers, the first legitimate grin on his face she thought she'd ever seen.
She nodded again, a grin unknowingly now on her face. "Yeah."
They sat quietly for the next few minutes, soup cooking as she finished the bottle of water. When he'd finished pouring it into the separate bowls, he got up again and sat down next to her, carefully handing over the bowl.
"It's pretty hot still," he said.
She looked down at the contents of the cup, white smoke rising and curling away. "Yeah, I can see the steam off it."
He nodded, dipping the plastic utensil in and bringing up a spoonful he slowly put into his mouth, teeth slowly tearing the soaked vegetables apart. "Still good, though," he said, steam creeping out from the small crack between his lips.
She dug the spoon in her hands into the hot liquid, scooping up some vegetables that peaked through the surface, tasting not as bland as she would've thought as she lifted it to her mouth.
After another batch of silence, he turned his head towards her again, eyes again on her face. "So, you really think no one noticed you disappeared for a day?"
She shook her head, placing the empty bowl down on the ground. "No, not even work. I had today off."
He stacked his bowl on top of hers. "No roommates, neighbors?"
"No roommates, no neighbors who wouldn't know me by name if someone did come looking."
He didn't know why he felt awkward asking now. "No significant others?"
She shook her head again. "Definitely no significant others."
He blinked. "Friends?"
"Nah… just coworkers," she said quietly.
He turned his head away, ears temporarily picking up on the words being spoken on the television, vision briefly focused on the continuing news cast before returning to her.
"Understood. Don't feel too bad, I haven't had a real friend in years."
"Yeah, me neither."
Nodding his head along to some inaudible rhythm, he smiled at her again when she noticed him bobbing, clapping his hands together before resting them on his knees. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."
She nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
"It's just hard to figure out who's trustworthy. Last thing I need is somebody spiking one of my bottles with arsenic."
Never really thought of it that way before… again, it made sense. Especially now.
..........
Holding her wrist firmly as she walked beside him, he pressed his lips against the scarf wrapped over his neck and up to his nose, confirming it still covered his cheeks when he felt the soft fabric brush against his skin. The past few hours had passed relatively uneventful. They'd had another cigarette over the time period, she'd watched him pack up the stove and dishes back into the bathroom, returning with a black scarf in his hands that she studied before watching him search continuously for something on the television before he settled for some lineup of sitcoms he'd never seen, taking the time to finally flip through the stacks of newspapers he'd been collecting over the past week. After staring at the wall across from her for some time she'd curled up and lie still on the mattress for another hour or so; whether she'd pretended to be asleep or not, she nonetheless hadn't done anything to bother him.
When it'd gotten dark outside, the fog returning and slightly chilling the air, before they had stepped out into the hallway he'd offered his jacket to her, happy when she'd pushed herself from the mattress and accepted it. Sliding her arms through the sleeves, he bent down to pick up the gun she'd left on the pillow, putting on the safety and sliding it into her pocket.
"Offer still stands, should I get anymore handsy you go ahead and fire," he said, not breaking eye contact as he brushed his face against hers, placing a small kiss on her cheek before turning towards the locked door. "I put your keys in one of those pockets, yeah?"
She slid her hands into the pockets of his jacket, fingernails colliding with the multiple keys on a ring in the pocket opposite the one holding the gun. She nodded.
"Just making sure," he said quietly, fingers toying with the locks.
He undid each lock in the descending row in front of him, fingers turning the handle until the door unsealed itself from the frame. He let her exit first, switching off the light he'd turned on around sunset as they waited for the sky to go completely dark, locking the only outside bolt before gripping her wrist, walking very close to her as they went down the hallway, down the stairs he'd pulled her up the night before and to the wood doors they'd entered the apartment building through.
He paused at the door, releasing her wrist and digging into his pocket, slowly pulling out the black scarf he'd folded up earlier and wrapping it around his neck, covering his mouth before tying it into a knot beneath his hairline.
She looked at him, scanning over his eyes above the dark fabric.
"Just trying to not look obvious," he muttered, his eyes squinting with the smile she knew was covered by the scarf. She nodded.
He pushed open the heavy wood doors that let them out into the street, taking careful steps down the last set of stairs and looking down the block, seeing the car he'd made her drive here still parked, surprisingly undamaged. She stood naturally against him, not drawing any attention to the two, feet coming against the pavement quietly. A couple of streetlights had decided to turn on that night, the inactive others contributing to the darkness in the neighborhood, the yellow light cast from the working lamps making the brick buildings around here glow a little orange, the red color almost washed out. The area was practically empty, one car gliding down the street and turning at the corner of the block they were on and a small collection of voices becoming audible.
As they continued further down the block, they approached another stoop, three men sitting down with cans of beer and cigarettes in their hands, talking and laughing as he hoped to pass them uneventfully. He knew these guys specifically – hecklers, small time thieves that were always drunk when they'd gotten back from whatever shitty job they held to scrape together enough rent every month. He was sure they knew him by now, but purely only as a fellow resident, not the man depicted in the mug shots released over the past few days. Their necks twisted in his direction, eyeing him, their attention drawn to the black scarf around his face before turning it to the girl at his side, the men looking at each other before looking back to them.
He sighed. As usual, he'd managed to walk himself into some conflict.
"Hey!" one of the men yelled, the girl immediately looking up.
He set his eyes on the man, continuing to walk silently as they came closer to that specific stoop.
"What the fuck you got wrapped around your head?" the same man yelled.
When he yelled and still provoked no response from the man walking, he stood up, taking a stand a few steps down from where he'd been
"I'm talking to you, asshole!"
He rolled his eyes, stopping and switching sides with the girl so he stood between her and the ground of men. Picking up the pace again, the two continued to walk, the car only so much farther away at this point.
The man dropped the can in his hand, leaving the stoop and coming up to him, grabbing him by his collar and tie, yanking him forward. Again rolling his eyes, he sighed as he let go of the girl, brushing his hand against her arm to push her away from him, any amount of distance between her and these assholes a good amount.
"I said I was talking to you, asshole!" the man yelled into his face, his breath carrying the smell of alcohol with it.
"I heard you, you fool," he said, words slightly muffled underneath the scarf.
"What'd you say?!" he cried, glaring down at him, his friends that remained on the stoop getting up and joining in on heckling.
"Should I talk slower like you're a fucking retard?" he spat back, unable to help but smile as the man's grip on his collar tightened.
His hand shot up to his face, fingers tangling in the scarf before yanking it off of his face, skin coming into contact with the warm night air as his eyes snapped open, jaw dropping before he could form any words as his eyes focused on the scars.
Well, I guess the cover's blown.
"You're the fucking Joker!" the man yelled.
She continued to back away, her body coming into contact with the car parked along the street behind her, her hands feeling the cold metal under her fingers, remembering for what felt like the first time she wasn't the only person who knew who her kidnapper was.
Ahh, shit, not a good thing to have somebody yell your name at the top of their lungs, especially when you're the most wanted man in the city.
"It's the Joker, he's got those scars on his face, call the cops!"
He didn't hear what the other men had begun yelling, only the sharp, loud pitches of their elevating voices, one recognizable sound of someone crying "Whoa!" before he heard gun fire, a piercing pain suddenly ripping through the left side of his chest.
About time.
He heard her scream come from behind him, his eyes going wide as his breath seized, jaw slowly dragging itself downwards with his buckling knees. He saw one of the men on the stoop holding the gun he'd just been shot with, still aiming it towards him, slowly lowering into the holster at his side.
Now… how fucking unfair… he never used a gun…
"Call the cops, they're looking for this shithead!" the man closest to him yelled, moving forward to grab him by the shoulders before he looked past him, obviously to the frightened girl he knew to still be behind him.
She stared forward, the man that hadn't fired the gun getting out his cell phone, flipping it open and punching in the digits of the number for a call she didn't need to hear get picked up. Suddenly aware of the weight of the gun that hung in the purple jacket he'd given her to wear outside, she dug her hand into the pocket, wrapping her fingers around the trigger.
"Ma'am, you gotta get out of here, we've got him now," the man holding him down said, the sound of his fading breaths becoming louder as his eyes franticly moved across hers, almost pleading with her to not leave him at their hands.
She has… no reason… to stay… especially not for you… unless she wants the satisfaction of seeing you die… you fucking bastard…
He watched as the man holding him down turned his head to look at her, eyes wider than when he'd recognized this murderer when he saw the barrel of a gun pointed to his face, a bullet firing out and tearing into his forehead, blood shooting backwards as he fell to the ground. He saw her aim the gun again, the men still on the stoop screaming a brief symphony of the word "No!" before she fired another two shots, striking one in the chest and the other in the center of the forehead, both jerking backwards and hitting the door behind them before slinking motionlessly to the ground.
"Fuck…" he panted, feeling as blood welled up and spilled from the precise wound that ached throughout his chest, the girl shoving the gun back into his jacket's pocket and wrapping her arms around him to keep him from further falling to the ground. She just fucking killed those men… aw, I knew I kept her around for a reason.
Oh my god, oh my god, he's shot and I just fucking killed those people… holy fucking Christ… the thoughts raced through her head as she drug him towards her car, opening the passenger seat and sitting him down, buckling him in before she ran to the other side, now unlocking her door and jumping into the drivers seat. Shoving the key into the ignition, she flipped it over, the car starting and the lights turning on automatically, illuminating the license plate and the bumper of the car parked in front of her. Craning her neck to see behind her as she put the car in reverse, she wiggled out from between the cars hers sat in the middle of and tore out into the street, following the lanes in the road to the turn where they had seen the earlier car go.
His breathing came hard, mouth hanging open, eyes squinting shut as he tried to reposition himself, recognizing the freeway signs they began to approach. He could feel the blood pouring from the wound, out into his clothes and further down his body. His hands were shaking violently, terrified any minute he would begin to cough up blood, confirming this wound was worse than he thought it may be.
She flipped on her turn signal, switching into the lane of the freeway onramp, ascending upwards to the road he saw multiple headlights passing through, his vision beginning to blur with the ever moving circular lights and the pitch black darkness.
"Where… are we going…" he barely whispered.
"I'm taking you to my apartment, put your hands on the wound and press as much pressure as you can, it'll stop the bleeding," she could barely say fast enough, switching lanes to move out the merging lane she was in, recognizing the exit names as not being too terribly far from her place now that she was on the freeway and not on twisted back roads.
He rested his head against the window. "Just… leave me… at a hospital," wincing on the last word, shooting pain rocking through his upper body.
"They won't treat you, they'll let you bleed to death."
"They have to," he spat out.
"I'm not risking it."
His eyes slipping shut, he felt the car accelerate, the hum of the freeway beneath the car lulling him into a state of low consciousness, barely able to feel the pressure of his forehead on the passenger window. With every beat of his heart the pain from his chest spread, the warmth of the blood spilling from the wound turning cold as it met the open air of the car. He could feel his lips twitching, tongue moving, words forming but falling deaf.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, a sigh releasing from his chest as she rested her chin on the curve of his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he closed his eyes. "Honey, you really worry too much."
"I worry the exact right amount," he muttered, eyes opening, his arms still folded on the kitchen table in front of him, the hanging lamp above them illuminating the checkered table cloth, the chairs at each corner and the wooden high chair across him.
"I can see it picking away at you, it's painful just to watch," she said.
He nodded. "Even worse to be feeling it."
She felt her hands take his, her fingers squeezing around the ring on his. "He's not going to be angry with you, it's not your fault the baby was sick and you couldn't come in. Hell, he's got kids and he's poor, he knows what it's like."
"Yeah, I know," he muttered. "He's already pretty pissed with me, though. I'm already late with the rent and losing out on an entire day's pay isn't exactly helping here." He frowned, eyes squeezing shut and brows furrowing again as he sighed, hand reaching down to pick up the half filled glass in front of him, taking a sip of the alcohol in it that burnt his throat on the way down.
He felt her rock him back and forth between her arms. "Well, the good thing to know is that the baby's okay, turns out he just had a little colic, and you can make up the hours you missed. Just don't worry about it, honey," she said, now pressing a kiss to his forehead.
He squeezed her hand back, bringing it to his mouth as his lips curled into a smile. "I'll try."
She tightened her arms around his shoulders. "There's a smile," she whispered, kissing his cheek again.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, his eyes remaining shut.
"You oughta smile more, you look so beautiful when you do."
weew, we're finally out of the apartment haha. This update came to a total of 22 pages in 12pt font, so, I hope you enjoy it! I have about another two pages of the next chapter written, I figure this was a good place to stop before the next chapter begins.. so, expect another big update in a few days. and since this update was uploaded around 11:45pm on December 8th, go buy The Dark Knight tomorrow! Good times. -p.