Chapter Eleven
One hour prior...
Jacob sighed restlessly, twisting around beneath the thick, heavy bedspread to adjust the pillow behind his head. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and he still couldn't catch any sleep. This whole coming back from Australia thing was not easy. Despite all his travels across the country, he had forgotten about jet lag, and how that always messed up his sleeping patterns for at least a week. Sighing heavily, he turned onto his back and reached across the bed to grab the remote off the nightstand. Perhaps the dull droning of the news would help lull him to sleep.
He fumbled with the buttons in the dark and finally managed to find the power button, clicking on the television. The sound of roaring applause from some game show instantly assaulted his ears and he grimaced, quickly turning down the volume.
Once it was set at a much quieter decibel, he leaned back on his elbows and began flipping through the TV stations, intent on finding the news. The local news station 'GCN' caught his eye, so he decided to leave it there as he placed the remote back on the nightstand.
Sighing again, he laid his head back down onto the pillow and closed his eyes, listening to the quiet drone of voices in the background.
It was only a half an hour later when a particularly loud commercial came on, waking Jacob up from his sleep. He groaned and reached for the remote, turning off the TV, and rested his head back down on the pillow once more.
In the black, still quiet of the room, he stared up at the ceiling. He wondered how long he'd have to stay in Gotham. While he normally would've liked to visit and experience the sights and sounds of the city, he didn't really want to spend Christmas here. He had already planned on spending it with his cousins back in Michigan. Who wanted to spend Christmas by themselves, anyway? While Gotham was probably beautiful this time of year, he did hope that the weather would improve so he could fly back home as quickly as possible. He had been traveling quite a bit for work as of late, and all he wanted right now was to be in the comfort of his own home.
Home.
Jacob let out a deflated breath. Being a single man of twenty-six, he didn't really have much to come 'home' to. His neighbors had been taking care of his dog, Max, for the past three weeks, so he'd be sure to give him a big hug, but... then what?
His friends were always nagging him about how he needed to get a girlfriend and start a family, but that was all easier said than done. It wasn't that Jacob wasn't an attractive man or didn't have a friendly personality, on the contrary, he was confident he'd make a good companion. He was trustworthy, kind, caring.
But the problem was that he didn't have time for a girlfriend. He wanted to settle down and raise a family just as much as the next person did... but his travels for work often hindered him from staying in one place for too long.
Pushing these thoughts aside and determined to at least get a little sleep before morning, Jacob rolled onto his side and shut his eyes. However, moments after doing so, a peculiar sound met his ears. Confused, he frowned into the darkness and trained his ear to listen more attentively.
Crying, he realized, it sounded like someone was crying.
He wondered if it was that little girl that he had met earlier that evening in the lobby. She sure had been a cute little thing; he wondered what had gotten her so upset that would make her cry like she was now. Hopefully her father—or whoever that man in the strange purple suit had been—would calm her down, else he might never get to sleep.
As he lay in the darkness, waiting for her wailing to subside, he gradually came to realize that her cries were only intensifying, and soon, she was screaming at what sounded like the top of her lungs.
"Good grief," he muttered to himself. He rubbed a hand over his face, down the tightness in his jaw.
His irritation over the matter, however, quickly subsided and he soon grew concerned after listening to her cries and screams for a whole twenty minutes straight.
Why hasn't that guy done anything to help her?
Or worse yet... what if he's the one making her cry?
That man had looked rather intimidating, Jacob mused. With his strange, acidic dark eyes and garish purple suit—who dressed like that, anyway?
And then of course there were those awful disfigurements on the side of his face—the poorly-sewn, fleshy scars that crawled up either side of his mouth. He looked disconcerting, to say the least.
It was also strange how coldly the man had acted towards the little girl, almost as if he were perpetually annoyed by her. He had even shoved her away from him at one point. He shuddered at the thought that the man may be abusing the poor girl.
He mulled over it in his head for some time, and when the girl's screams did not abate, Jacob realized he couldn't just lay there and not do anything. Something just didn't add up. It didn't feel right.
Pushing back the covers from his body, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled his way over to the corner where his suitcase was resting in a cushioned chair. He blindly felt around for his clothes and quickly slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Once he had located his cell phone, he used it as a light to see in the dark as he put on his shoes. He slid his cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans as his door clicked open.
Jacob's concern continued to grow as Taylor's screams intensified. He found himself quickening his pace as he let himself be guided by her screams, the sounds emanating only a few doors down from his own room, at the end of the hall.
He paused when he stood in front of the door, suddenly feeling hesitant as he poised his hand to knock. What would he say? If the man was in there with her, if he was in there abusing her... Jacob swallowed, taking an involuntary step back, unwilling to finish the thought. Perhaps he should call the police?
But he didn't know for sure if the man was hurting her. If he wasn't, and the small girl was simply crying for some other reason—was it really his place to tell the man to make her quiet? Wasn't that a little rude? Maybe he could say he was concerned and wanted to make sure everything was alright? That seemed only reasonable, right?
Just do it. What if she's hurt and needs help? What if something bad is going on?
With that thought, he straightened and rapped his fist against the door three times.
From inside, the little girl's loud sobs and crying screams instantly stopped, and Jacob frowned. That was odd.
In the deathly silence that followed, he heard what sounded like a small thump and then light, hurried footfalls coming towards the door. He waited for someone on the other side to say or do something, but when no one responded, he decided to speak up.
"Uh, hello? Is anybody in there?" he spoke into the door, leaning closer to place his ear against it.
He was met with silence.
This is so strange...
"Hello?" he tried again, hesitantly. He waited a moment, but when he received no answer yet again, he sighed and went for a different approach. "Taylor?" he asked, remembering the girl's name from their earlier meeting. "Is that you in there?"
A small, choked voice chirped from the other side of the door in response. "Mr. J?"
It was definitely Taylor.
"Taylor, what's going on?" he pressed, still speaking to the wood of the door. "Are... are you alone?"
"Where's Mr. J?" she replied anxiously, her voice muffled.
Is no one in there with her? he wondered.She had been crying for nearly a half an hour, why would someone leave a child alone for that long?
"Taylor, can you open the door, please?"
After several seconds of silence had passed, Jacob realized she was crying again. He grimaced and pressed his ear up against the door once again, listening to her small sobs.
"I want Mr. J," she rasped.
He stepped closer. "You gotta let me in, sweetheart," he tried. "I'll help you find Mr. J if you just let me come inside, okay?"
Taylor sniffled from the other side of the door while silence followed. After a moment, he heard her begin to unlock the door.
Or so he thought.
"I can't open it!" she wailed, her fingers twisting at the lock on the other side of the door.
"Calm down, it's okay," he assured her, pausing as he tried to think of how he could instruct her. "Just—just turn the lock to the side, and then turn the door handle downwards, okay?" Before he had even finished his sentence, he heard the sound of the lock clicking, and, relieved, he realized Taylor had managed to unlock the door. "Now just turn the knob, alright?" he further instructed.
He heard Taylor grunting from the other side of the door and he would have smiled at her effort had the situation not been so dire. The door must have been heavy for her to try to push open. He wished he could somehow help her, but the door couldn't be opened from the outside without a keycard.
Finally, the door just barely clicked open and Jacob immediately stuck his hand inside the small crack to keep it from closing on him.
Startled, Taylor took a step backwards as Jacob stepped inside the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Smiling kindly at her, he knelt down in front of her on one knee, briefly glancing around her to see that she was indeed alone.
"Hey," he said, gently, "what's with all the crying? You woke me up from my sleep," he teased, hoping it would help lighten her mood.
"I don't know where Mr. J is," she sobbed, her eyes searching his face while Jacob studied hers, wet with tears and red from exertion.
"Shh, shh, it's okay. We'll find Mr. J. He's around here somewhere," he comforted, even though he couldn't be sure of his own words.
Jacob watched helplessly as tears rolled down her gaunt cheeks. He couldn't help but think that she looked almost alarmingly underfed, but perhaps her sharp, hollowed features were just from birth. Jacob swallowed and after a moment spoke softly.
"Is Mr. J your daddy?" he questioned, staring into Taylor's glossy eyes that were filled to the brim with more unshed tears.
She shook her head back and forth and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling. "No, he's my friend."
Jacob's brow furrowed. "Your friend? Are you sure he's not your uncle or... or some relative or something?" He found it hard to believe that the two of them were just 'friends', whatever that meant.
Now it was Taylor's turn to furrow her brow. She shook her head at him, barely hiding a sob.
He felt his heart breaking for her. She seemed like such a sweet, innocent little girl, and he found it hard to believe that this "Mr. J" character would so much as leave without even telling her. Where had he gone off to anyway?Perhaps he was still in the hotel somewhere?
Taylor shuddered as a hiccupped sob moved past her throat, and Jacob smiled sadly. "Hey, come here, it's alright." He outstretched his arms to her and she slowly came to him, still sobbing, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Jacob picked her up from the floor and smoothed down her hair as he ran his hands up and down her back, trying to console her. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he felt her hot exhales of breath against his neck and wet tears on his shoulder.
He had so many questions he wanted to ask—how long had she been left alone, where was her mother, what was she doing at the motel in the first place (on Christmas day, no less,)—but he understood that now wasn't the right time to start hounding her with questions. Chances were she probably knew very little about what was going on in the first place.
After a few moments, Taylor had quieted some, and Jacob continued to stroke her back, trying to get her to remain calm as he thought of what to do next. Calling the police seemed like the most sensible thing to do, but what if her guardian—this 'Mr. J'—had only left for a short while?
Taylor, however, brought him back to the present when she began struggling in his arms, trying to push away. He frowned at her, concerned.
"Put me down," she begged, face going pale as she squirmed in his arms.
Worried, he set her on the ground, confused. Her feet had barely even touched the ground before her chest heaved and she puked on the carpet, right next to Jacob's shoes.
He frowned as her body began to quake, and before he knew it she was crying once again, her small frame heaving with each sob she took.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, quivering as she stared at the carpet. She swallowed and wiped at her mouth.
"Good God," Jacob murmured to himself. She must not have eaten anything for quite a while, because all she had spit up was a pale, watery liquid. He swallowed too and moved to pick her up once more. "Let's clean this up, all right?" he suggested to her gently.
He carried her into the bathroom, flipping on the light switch. He shot a quick glance in the mirror to take note of his bedraggled appearance before sitting Taylor on top of the counter, her back facing the mirror. After retrieving a washcloth, he wetted it beneath the faucet and gently wiped at Taylor's mouth, cleaning away the leftover spit. She trembled beneath his administrations and twisted her hands in her lap, her feet dangling high above the floor.
He couldn't help but think how terribly frail she was. He hadn't noticed it before when he had first seen her in the lobby, but now, as she sat shaking on the countertop, he realized how fragile and small she really was.
When she continued to shiver, Jacob quickly realized it was not from the cold, and he pressed a worried hand to her forehead, causing Taylor to shrink back in fear.
"It's alright," he assured her, and she let his palm rest against her forehead to see if she had a fever.
Taylor's skin was cool to the touch. As he drew back, he noted how pale she had become, her complexion almost sallow beneath the harsh, white florescent lights from above. He furrowed his brow as he gathered her up into his arms, flipping off the light switch to the bathroom before entering back into the main room. He sat down on the edge of one of the beds and cradled the small, trembling girl in his arms, embracing her with strong arms as he stroked her hair and whispered soothing words to her.
She choked on her sobs as she nestled her face into his chest, her tiny fingers curling around the fabric of his soft, gray t-shirt.
Whatever previous hesitations he had had about calling the police, he knew now that he had to. Taylor was suffering from neglect, it was the only reasonable explanation, and he wasn't about to leave her alone to suffer anymore.
Still holding Taylor in his arms, he reached with his free hand towards his back pocket, intent on retrieving his cell phone.
That was until Taylor suddenly started, her back going rigid, her muscles tense as she looked towards the door.
"What is it? What's the matter?"
His question was answered when the door burst open, and striding into the room, wearing that same awful, purple suit as earlier, was none other than 'Mr. J'.
The only difference was that, this time, the suit was soaked with blood.
The sharp, biting smell of copper was unmistakable, and Jacob stared in horror. The man's scarred face was coated in colors of white, black, and red—a horrible, grisly caricature of a circus clown. The black, cavernous eyes, white-washed face, and the crimson, Glasgow grin stunned Jacob, and he was startled into silence.
Who the hell was this guy?
'J' was staring at the two of them with dark, narrowed eyes, and Taylor must have sensed the uneasiness in the situation because she slowly crawled out of Jacob's lap and moved to the top of the bed towards the headboard, her eyes trained on the Joker's the whole time.
The man licked his lips and titled his head at them, as if in curiosity, and the corners of his lips curled into a small, predatory grin.
"What ah, what do you think you're doing?"
Jacob stood from the bed in an attempt to not feel so small. The Joker remained rooted where he was, towering by the closed door and coated in blood. He followed Jacob's every movement with hawk-like eyes.
"Listen," Jacob began quickly, nervously. "I heard her crying so I came to see if everything was all right. She was crying for a—a long time. I was worried. I thought she was... hurt." Jacob didn't understand why he was stuttering. He wasn't normally a nervous guy. In fact, he was usually very brave, almost unusually so. Back in Michigan, it wasn't uncommon for him to go mountain climbing and white-water rafting with his friends on the weekends—he had even bungee jumped off the side of a cliff a couple of times. He was by no means a man who was scared or intimated easily... but something about J's presence was completely and utterly unnerving. Jacob felt sick to his stomach. This wasn't some voluntary, carefully chosen adrenaline rush like scaling the side of a cliff, or cave-diving. At least then he knew what he was getting into, knew his possible outcomes. This situation, however, was random and not wanted, and he didn't know what was going to happen. Never in his life had he felt so anxious, and his heart thudded loudly in his eardrums.
The Joker licked his lips again and took a step further into the room, shooting a quick glance at Taylor who had her back pressed up against the headboard, looking like she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the woodwork. Jacob was nearly startled out of his skin when the Joker began speaking again.
"Hmm," he hummed, or rather rumbled, sounding thoughtful and pleased. "Well, wasn't that just nice of you, being all concerned and whatnot." His voice was bizarrely out of pitch and extremely nasal, Jacob noted, the overall effect making his presence even more unsettling than it already was. The Joker smacked his lips. "I wanna know something though," he said suddenly. "Come 'ere." He gestured with a leather-gloved hand for Jacob to step closer, and after a moment, the man did, slowly. "Come on come on, I don't have all day."
Jacob swallowed down the surge of panic that had steadily fought its way up his throat, and against his better instincts, he came to stand in front of the Joker. When he was standing directly in front of the man, the smell of copper assaulting his nostrils, the Joker suddenly pulled a knife on him and pressed the blade pressed solidly against Jacob's abdomen, not hard enough to break skin, but definitely hard enough to prove a point.
The Joker would normally have pressed the object up against his victim's neck, but, as it was, it was clear to Jacob that he was trying to conceal the lethal object from Taylor's view so he wouldn't frighten her.
Jacob instantly tried to back away, but the Joker clamped a large hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer while the blade dug into the flesh of his stomach. "Why don't we ah, have a talk, shall we?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low. With his hand still curled tightly around Jacob's shoulder, the Joker removed his knife and instead moved to stand behind him, shoving Jacob forward towards the door. He craned his neck back around to look at Taylor. "I'll be right back, sweetheart," he crooned with a sarcastic grin, shoving the man towards the door as Jacob, with no other choice, opened it for the two of them.
When it had closed behind them and they were out in the hallway, the Joker pushed him along. "Your room," he ordered brusquely.
Jacob vainly attempted to turn around to face the man who held him in a death grip, but the Joker shoved him forward again, nearly making him stumble. There was no way that this "Mr. J" was just a friend of Taylor's, it didn't fit.
"What the hell are you doing with her?" he demanded as they walked down the carpeted halls at a brisk pace. Jacob twisted furiously under the Joker's firm grip until the Joker dug a knife into his back. "Are you hurting her?" he asked with a clenched jaw. "I swear if you even think about hurting—"
The Joker suddenly let out a short bark of a laugh, interrupting Jacob. "Oh I've already thought about that," he said with a hint of a smirk in his voice.
"You sick freak," Jacob spat.
The Joker laughed lowly, amused. "Yeah yeah," he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, "haven't heard that one before."
When they arrived at the door of Jacob's room, the Joker shoved him towards it. With no other choice, Jacob pulled his key card out of his pocket and inserted it into the slot.
He was quickly shoved into the room, and, as the door closed behind them, submersing the room in pitch-black, his breathing began to quicken and his heart rate went double time.
Suddenly, hot, damp breath was assaulting his neck, and the Joker was whispering into the shell of his ear. He could feel the Joker's hair brush against the side of his face as he leaned closer.
"You don't know who I am, do you?" he whispered, each exhale of breath against Jacob's neck making shivers wrack his spine.
"No," he swallowed after a moment, feeling the Joker's long, gloved fingers curl tighter around his shoulder while the smell of blood permeated around him, enveloping him like a blanket that was intent on suffocating him.
"Hm," the Joker growled from deep within his throat. "That's really a shame," he paused. "You see, I'm a bit of a uh, star around here. A little... famous, if you will."
Jacob swallowed again. "Famous for what?" he spat into the dark. "Kidnapping little girls and scaring them half to death?"
"Mm, a comedian, eh?" The Joker suddenly straightened to his full height, both of his hands now clasped firmly around Jacob's shoulders while the tip of his blade went skirting against the side of his neck. "We'll have to uh, fix you of that unfortunate qual-it-y."
Jacob gasped when the Joker shoved him forward, making him stumble through the darkness and land face first onto the carpet. A moment later, the overhead light came on and flooded the room, momentarily blinding him as Jacob tried to push himself up from the floor. He didn't even have time to react, however, when he found himself being hoisted up by his shirt. With a strong hand clasped at the back of his neck and one on his shirt, he suddenly found himself hauled up from the floor and onto the bed beside him.
He frantically scrambled off of it and was now trapped between the Joker and the wall behind him. The Joker was after him in a second, forcing him up harder against the wall with his switchblade pressed sharply against his neck.
"Tell me something," the clown began breathlessly, both of the men panting hard as Jacob lifted his head upwards, attempting to escape the sharpness of the blade, but only baring more of his neck in the process. "Do you have a family, Jacob?"
"No," he answered through clenched teeth, and for the first time ever, he was glad he didn't.
"Gooood," he smiled, baring his yellowed teeth as the mangled corners of his mouth twisted into a wicked grin. "Very good."
The two stared at each other for a long while, calculating and sizing each other up.
Jacob knew he was more muscular than the man who had him pinned to the wall, but he also knew that the man possessed a deceptive amount of strength hidden beneath his hunched shoulders and large, purple overcoat. In all truthfulness, he didn't know if he'd be able to escape with his life intact if he tried.
Jacob grunted after a moment, the knife that was currently digging into his skin starting to unnerve him.
"Oh, don't be scared," the clown mockingly soothed. "I'm not gonna kill you," he revealed as he leaned in closer, whispering furtively and shaking his head as if the idea were absurd. "No no no no no. I have much bigger plans for you." The Joker licked his lips and leaned in even closer, whispering with a growl. "You see, I own this city... and you work for me now."