I realize its been a couple weeks, and I'm sorry for that, I just wanted to make sure I had a solid idea for what to do in this chapter. Anyway, read on.
The joker took Quilla to a more underground part of Gotham, figuring he could meet up with the boss of the place and work some things out. For a moment when he entered the men working the gate thought he was alone, though it was a gross understatement, he'd brought a few bodyguards with him, and when the Joker spoke about body guards he meant it as a human shield. To guard his body with theirs.
Dragging Quilla along with him she kept her eyes on the ground, scarcely looking around to see where she was her eyes wavered as if she was ready to fall asleep. It happened weekly. Quilla wouldn't sleep for days at a time, refusing to eat, refusing to rest; it all took a morbid toll on her body.
Eventually she would just pass out from exhaustion, forcing who ever happened upon her body to feed her through a tube until she had gotten better or until she woke up and felt that she had to eat something.
She wasn't starving herself, no, starvation was too painful. She'd gotten close once, but the constant aching and painful cramps of her stomach made her want to eat just to ease the pain enough to where she could at least wonder around again.
When she passed out though, that was when her mind went crazy. Remembering everything she had locked away so carefully, ripping happy smiles to pieces, there was no end to the nightmares that haunted her while she slept. That was why she refused to sleep like any normal person would, because she didn't want to remember, for if she remembered she might want to go back. Of course she would know that her mind was playing tricks on her, because she would never go back, but it was always the thought that made her suffer the most.
For when she questioned that one thought again, everything rushed back into her mind. Torturing her, making her pull herself deeper and deeper into an emotionless world full of things she did not want to speak of.
So as she walked behind the Joker like a doll being dragged around by a child, all she could think about was the way every footstep sounded like a heartbeat. Coming one after the other like a healthy heart and then switching to an irregular one when the Joker stopped to talk to something.
It reminded her of high school and her brother, but mostly it reminded her of Edgar Allen Poe, and his Tell Tale Heart. One year in English she had been required to recite a poem of the teachers choosing, Quilla had been given Tell Tale Heart, only a section of it, and was instructed to either perform it for extra credit, or recite it for an average grade.
She' thought it'd be cool to perform it, so she worked on making her words sound rushed and crazy, just like the way it sounded in the poem.
She thought it was quite cool at first, even asking her friend to get a recording of a heart beating so she could perform it with something in the background to work off of. Her teacher gave her an A+, and her friends had laughed at her, saying that it was almost funny the way she had performed.
Now as she thought back to the memory she found herself reciting the words in her head, images of the day in class flashed in her brain. The proud smile of her teacher, the bored stares of her classmates, and the cruel laughter of her friends who she hoped would have enjoyed it.
The poem itself was creepy, all of its lines held a certain edge that would make some people cringe, but her favorite line had always been.
"It was the beating of his hideous heart," she whispered in the softest of voices.
With that said Quilla shrugged off her memory, clearing her clouded eyes she looked around the room she was standing in, she'd not been paying any attention to where the Joker had been taking her. Perhaps it was the footsteps that had driven her so far back into her memories, even now she could still hear the heartbeat sounding in her head. Not her own heartbeat, for she imagined that it sounded very different than it actually did, but a beating, hideous heart.
The Joker looked down at Quilla when he thought he'd heard her whisper something, but she still looked as though her mind was elsewhere. He saw her eyes move slowly across the room and could only guess that she had finally broken free of her memories and decided to join the world again.
He had taken her all the way to the back of the building, where the lights were dim enough to make it feel like night time, even in the middle of the day. To the left of them there was an old sofa sitting against a wall, Quilla could recall every mafia movie she'd ever seen where a man lay dead on a couch similar to that. In front of them was a door that the Joker understood to be the only thing that stood in the way of him and the main boss in the area. It'd been easy to get past all the guards and rooms; no one questioned the man with paint on his face who dragged a girl behind him.
Striding forward the Joker knocked on the door wildly, each time the sound was muffled due to the fact that he was wearing gloves. Quilla looked now to the gloved hand that held her arm; it was black and worn looking, as if he only had one pair that he'd worn for the past few years.
"Knock, knock, ah, hello," he said with a chuckle before turning the handle cautiously.
Inside the room was a couple of men from the other day, one of them looked very unhappy to see him while the other seemed like he couldn't care less. The unhappy man waved the other one away before looking at the Joker.
"What do you want?" He asked in a very gruff voice.
"I just want to, ah, talk," the Joker said sitting himself down in a chair. The man looked at him warily, of course he had good reason to, a man like the Joker was unpredictable, and he could have come in just to shoot people today.
Looking past the Joker the man glared at the other man that had been in the room with him before catching sight of the Quilla who was just standing there like a mannequin.
"Who's that?" He questioned motioning his head towards the girl.
"She's my friend," the Joker cackled, the man couldn't see what was so funny. The girl looked like she was ready to pass out; her eyes looked heavy while her body seemed to move rather slowly as well.
"Make her sit down, and then we'll talk," he said moving his eyes back towards the other man.
With an impatient sigh the Joker stood up and turned towards Quilla quickly, knowing that she would do nothing to move for him he picked the girl up around the waste before walking her over to the couch and setting her down carefully.
"Thank you," she said softly. The Joker would have said something in return had he not been in the middle of something, even in a place like this Quilla had nothing to say, no emotions on her face at all.
Taking one last glance at her the Joker went back into the other room where the bored man was walking out of, just as the Joker sat down again the man closed the door and went over to where Quilla was. Standing in front of her he tried to get her attention when she made no notice of him.
"Hello," Quilla said in the same soft voice.
"Good day to you," the man said letting a smile break across his face. The man's name was Aaron Thatcher, and he was more than delighted to see the girl he had been thinking of for a few days sitting in front of him. For some reason the girl had been clouding his thoughts, where had she come from? Of what importance was she to the Joker? Why was he keeping her?
So many questioned had been rushing through his brain and he didn't even know her name yet. She still had yet to look up at him, but was just elated that she had shown up out of nowhere. Of course she came with a raving psycho clown person, but hey, you can't always get what you want.
"My name is Thatcher," he said with a kind smile. "What's your name?" He asked politely. Aaron had the idea that if he gave her his name she might possibly give him hers, but even then he doubted his own thoughts.
"Quilla," she said softly. Aaron bent down so that he could look into her eyes, they were cast towards the ground sleepily making Aaron question whether or not the Joker had been treating her correctly. Her shoulder looked okay, it looked like the bandages had been changed already, though Aaron felt slightly put off when he saw that she had no jacket on. It wasn't exactly warm during the day and all she wore was a simple dress.
If Aaron had Quilla in his company he would at least get her a jacket so she could stay warm, but he had to say that from the look of it Quilla did not care at all. In fact she looked exhausted, bags under her eyes and even her sitting figure seemed to waver where she sat.
"You look like you need some sleep," he muttered looking her over once again.
At that moment Quilla looked up at him, slowly moving her green eyes to where she was staring straight into his own dark blue ones. He found himself getting lost in her eyes, wondering what she could possibly be thinking of all the time, what could make someone like her lose control of their own thoughts?
Aaron had once worked at a mental hospital, he'd seen people who'd lost their grip on reality, people who said nothing, and spoke to no one, people who changed their personalities so fast you couldn't keep up, and people who were just insane. But he'd never met someone like Quilla, the way she spoke was mysterious, always a whisper, a soft kind voice that sounded so innocent even in a world full of dirty people.
Quilla was definitely someone you didn't see every day, for most people that get to a quiet low point like her end their lives so they don't have to keep up with the world that they hate anymore. Here was Quilla, taken captive by a mad man, and she didn't seem to care, in fact, it looked as if the Joker was starting to enjoy having the girl with him.
"I haven't slept in a while," she murmured gently.
This comment from Quilla made Aaron snap back into reality, he had been staring into her eyes, not realizing that his thoughts were getting consumed by the mystery that she was.
"How long?" He questioned suddenly curious as to why she would refuse sleep.
"Days," she whispered looking down at the couch. He noticed that she started to rub her fingers across the old fabric slowly, what was she thinking of now?
"Do you not like sleeping?" He realized that he was just bombarding her with questions, but he wanted to know. Aaron had always been pretty easily excited, jumping at the chance to solve a mystery or investigate something, and Quilla was just one big question mark. He still didn't know who she was and where she'd come from.
"No," her reply was simple and short.
"Why not?" Came another question quickly.
This time there was no reply from her, which made Aaron antsy, he wanted to know. Instead she looked down at her fingers as they slowly rubbed the fabric of the couch, losing herself to something that Aaron could only imagine.
Sighing disappointedly Aaron moved away from the girl and walked over to the opposite side of the room. He wanted her, he wanted her to answer his questions, he wanted to know who she was and who she had been, he wanted to know everything. But how would he capture her if she was in the company of a man such as the Joker, there was almost nothing he could do.
Unless he got involved with the Batman that is.
Letting a smirk crawl onto his face Aaron walked to wards the opposite door in the room, a plan like this would take some time and preparation, but in the end, Quilla would be his.
Just as Aaron left through one of the doors the Joker pushed open the other one and looked at Quilla with a smile on his face, even as she stared at the couch he wanted nothing else to do then get back to his hideout and research her more. Now that he had his business done and over with it was time for some fun.
What was her family like? Were they mean to her? Had one of her friends died? Or had it been one of her family members? Who were her best friends? What was she like before?
Everything, he wanted to know all of her secrets and all of her dreams. If he brought them up to her, would she talk to him more? Would she be willing to let some of her past speak through her mouth? Or would she stare at him with her empty eyes and not respond to him at all? He suspected the latter of them, perhaps she would talk, and perhaps she would not.
Grabbing her arm he began to pull her back through the building, passing people who stared and glared at him, collecting his men along the way he glanced down at Quilla so see that she was staring at the ground again.
If only there was a device that allowed you to watch people's memories, for he could spend days watching hers. Then he would know everything about her, and what had happened to her. Alas all he could do was imagine what had happened in order for her to end up like this.
There was a version in his mind of her parents beating her, and perhaps that had lead up to her closing herself off from the world, not trusting anyone with anything she had to say. But that just seemed folly for there were many holes in his story.
He'd just have to find out.
So while I was writing this I got a huge idea for this story, and how that idea will lead up to the end of this story, so hooray for that, clapping all around.
Anyway, what did you think? Do you like Aaron Thatcher?
Fun Fact for the day:
If you type 'do a barrel roll' into your google search the whole page will spin.
Thanks for reading!