I am pushed into a room and shoved roughly into a chair. My hands are unbound for a split-second, only to be pulled behind me and tied together once again. A door slams shut and I am left alone, blindfolded and shivering. I can hear water dripping, echoing around me. I can't tell how big the room is. I don't even know if I'm alone. There's no sign of anyone else, no breathing or movement, but who knows. I fidget with the back of my skirt and try to tug it down, suddenly self-conscious of its length, or lack thereof. My movement pulls at the tape binding my wrists; I wince at the feeling of skin tugging, but remain silent. After the shock of adrenaline to my system I feel drained, exhausted, my body weighing me down. I know that won't last long, that soon I'll be face to face with Jerome once again and my body will start burning with energy.
A lock scrapes open, the door swinging. Footsteps. It's him. He hasn't spoken, has barely even breathed, but I know. I can feel him. There's no one else who feels like that. Rough fingers brush against the side of my head, barely there, before grabbing the blindfold and tearing it off of me. Once again I am blinded by the light in the room. My eyes quickly adjust, and I immediately focus on the figure in front of me. Jerome. I chew at the inside of my lip, forcing myself to stare right at him no matter how much I want to look anywhere else. Our eyes lock, and I resist the urge to look away. I cannot let him know how scared I am. I wait for him to speak, but instead he just stares at me, a slow grin forming on his face. I steel myself and take a deep breath.
"Look, I know I'm pretty, but do you have a point to make?" The sarcasm hopefully covers up the slight tremor in my voice; I don't think it really matters, seeing as a cackle bursts from his mouth. I stare, waiting what feels like hours for him to stop.
"Well, I knew there was something I liked about you." He takes a step forward, and my attempt to lean away from him only widens his smile.
"You don't know anything about me."
"Now, I wouldn't say that's quite true. I know you're feisty, you don't play by the rules and-" He leans in so I can feel his breath on my face, his hands pressing against my knees. I can feel them through my fishnets. "I know you're a liar."
Shit. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm sure you don't." His voice oozes sarcasm. He steps back, giving me room to breathe as he starts pacing. "I remember asking you a little question when we met at Arkham, and I don't think you were entirely truthful."
"I don't-" He interrupts me, waving a finger as though he's telling me off.
"See, there it is again. You know, I think we should build our relationship off of honesty. Don't you agree, Harleen?"
"You remember my name?" I'm shocked, forgetting that according to me, he shouldn't know it at all.
"How could I forget it?" He grins, knowing he's won.
"It's been four years, and a whole bunch of murders." I drop the pretence; there's no point. I can't win. But just because he's beaten me at this doesn't mean it's over. He stares at me, letting the silence build until it's almost overwhelming. I can't tell what he's thinking, if he's surprised at my response or just being a dick. I can't take it. "Look, why am I here?" His face twists, a terrifying image somewhere between a smile and a snarl. I bite my tongue, so hard I can taste blood. A tide of fear hits me; I have no idea what he wants with me, and I have no power to stop him. I could die, and I can't do anything about it.
"Honestly? You... you fascinate me," He's not looking at me, instead choosing to circle around my chair until he is standing directly behind. I force myself to keep my head forward, despite the knowledge that I am completely and utterly exposed to him. No matter where he is in the room, I am vulnerable. It doesn't matter if I can see him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I shouldn't encourage him, but I need to know.
"When we first met, you were a sweet, innocent little girl." I roll my eyes. "And now, well..." He grabs my shoulders and leans in until I can feel his breath against my ear, and when he speaks his cheek brushes against me. "Now, I don't think you're any of those things."
"And? People change. Deal with it." Shut up, Harleen.
"Yeah, but most people become boring after time. You, on the other hand-"
"What? Suddenly I'm interesting 'cause I'm not twelve?" He pats my cheek, making me cringe, and pulls away. He doesn't move back in front of me though.
"No. You're interesting because you're just like me."
"I'm nothing like you." I spit at him, twisting to release myself from his grip. My struggling only makes him hold on tighter, and he chuckles in my ear.
"Not quite," He lets go, producing a sigh of relief before he spins the chair around, making me yelp. His mouth stretches into another grin, enjoying the fear I am failing to disguise. He takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him as he leans ever closer. "But you will be."