Chapter 13: Siege

My eyes widened in shock. Arthur's lips felt greasy and cold and they pressed into mine with such force that I wouldn't have been able to stay upright without his hands holding me in place. In fact his palms pushing on the back of my head only further crushed our faces together so that there wasn't a millimeter of space between us. I was too surprised initially to do anything, and in all honesty I thought he'd stop as soon as he really realized what he was doing.

How wrong I was; Arthur did pull back for a second but from the look on his face I could tell it was just for a moment of reflection, like he'd just figured something out. When his mouth crashed back down on mine it was with such a renewed energy that we both stumbled back into the wall, though his lips didn't lose contact with mine for a second. His hands cradled the back of my head with a ravenous kind of insistence. Now there wasn't just a smell of tobacco; I could taste it too, like ashes on my tongue. It didn't feel like what I knew a kiss to be; it was too hard, too cold and forced, and it stung when his pressure moved across my split lip.

"Mmphh... mr-thur- what are you- what are you doing?" The words were pulled out of me by pure panic, and it was a struggle to speak clearly with my mouth so completely occupied. My mind desperately attempted to get a handle on why on earth this was happening; this was so far beyond established norms that I just couldn't decipher the intent. Why was he doing this? What made him think he had the right to touch me so familiarly and intimately? Why did he want to? I felt like he was stealing from me the only thing he had left to take.

His hands dropped to my hips, and braced against them, one thumb in front and fingers curling behind; they were the perfect size for him to use as neat little handles and he pulled forwards on them, increasing the contact between our bodies to such an extent that I was all of a sudden much more familiar with the shape and feel of his torso than I ever knew I'd be. I wasn't sure if my breath catching in my throat was from shock or just the pressure of him against me.

It was with such determination that he tore into me that I knew escape was futile, though it didn't stop me from trying. I had little success. After what seemed like an age, he let me come up for air but he still maintained a possessive grip on my hair.

Too many questions were all vying to be asked at once; I choked on them all and only managed a few gurgling sounds of disbelief. Nobody had done more than shake my hand - let alone kiss me - since Ben had died, and as Arthur's lips replaced my memories of my husband's it felt like Ben was being ripped away from me all over again. I noticed there were tears streaming down my cheeks but instead of a sob what came out of my mouth was a desperate plea. "Arthur... wha- why...?"

In lieu of an explanation, Arthur just bit his lip mischievously and smirked at me. His facial expression told me everything: I wanted to do it so I did.

Was he toying with me as usual? Just showing me there was nothing he couldn't help himself to? Was there some deeper meaning to this or was I just falling for his manipulation as usual? I wanted to get as far away from him as possible, both physically and in my mind, but I was also scared to leave without figuring out what the hell this was about. It was like I was on some hidden camera show and was just waiting for someone to jump out and reveal this whole thing was a prank. I'd been feeling like that a lot lately. I somewhat wished my whole life had been a prank and I could just start over.

I must've shown some intent to run away again, since Arthur's hand returned to my neck, closing slowly around the front. He didn't exert enough force to choke me; it was just to hold me in place in front of him.

"Arthur." I whispered. "This isn't funny. Stop."

He wasn't listening to me even though he was staring at my mouth as I spoke. He had an almost a curious look on his face, and his head was tilted nearly imperceptibly to the side.

"Arthur." I repeated. "I-" His lips hit mine again and he took advantage of the moment by thrusting his tongue into my mid-sentence mouth, pushing my head harder against the wall. It wasn't just cold this time; there was heat enveloping from his lips and his hot breath mingled with mine to the point where I didn't know whose was whose. His tongue forced its way greedily towards my uvula, slippery across my teeth and jamming into the top and sides of my mouth.

I pushed on his chest with redoubled determination and disgust, wriggling hard under his forearm that was pushed into my ribs. I wasn't making any headway in getting away from him and in fact my movement was just rubbing our bodies together in even more inappropriate ways.

"Mia..." He paused to readjust my torso against his. "Put some effort into it huh?" His thumb trailed over my bottom lip and pulled it open into a pout. "Show me what you can do with that mouth."

His words were enough to give me the presence of mind to struggle harder, to actually fight for my life like I should've been all along. Despite Arthur's strength, as a human being he still had a soft, fleshy tongue and I knew when I bit down on it, it would hurt. I did so. Hard.

Arthur grunted, but soon began laughing into my mouth, making it vibrate. More than anything he seemed entertained by my attempt to fight back and I should've expected as much. Despite trying to clench my teeth firmly together he was able to shove his bleeding appendage even further towards my throat. The rusty taste of blood mixed with ash. Our tongues battled fiercely; I just wanted to push his out but I was afraid it was going to come across as me playing along. I tried to bite down again but with a painful pinch he pressed his thumb and forefinger into my cheek just in front of the joint of my top and bottom jaw, keeping it jacked open.

"Mpphh-" A well placed shove actually gave me a bit of breathing room; Arthur had been leaning into me so much that his balance was somewhat fragile. "Get off me!" I took the opportunity to yell and with the extra space between us was able to bring my knee into his groin again. Before I could strike his weakest point however, he squeezed his legs together, trapping mine just between his thighs. I hadn't really been expecting to be on one leg for more than a couple of seconds so hadn't readjusted my balance; with my other leg off the ground I didn't have the means to hold myself up. Unfortunately it seemed that Arthur hadn't planned ahead either, and his center of gravity wasn't prepared for my added weight clinging on to him. We fell awkwardly. Even though it wasn't intentional Arthur didn't seem to care - if anything he leaned into it. My head bounced against the plaster and we landed uncomfortably wedged into a corner beside the couch. Arthur was on top, and took the opportunity to straddle me, both of his lean legs sitting either side of my hips. As he towered above me I could see patches of skin through his makeup around his lips and nose, as if it had been wiped off by something. The blue triangle below his right eye was dragged down at bottom point, a long streak that extended into the red smile around his mouth. With a jolt of horror I realized he must have smeared it all over my face when he kissed me.

Just then, he pulled off his jacket and vest with such impatience that he nearly tore them at the seams, throwing them across the room with aplomb. He slid his hands over my shoulders and his fingers curled into my flesh, sharp and hard, almost as if he was trying to pry the intimacy from me. I thrashed underneath him, but he was too heavy to allow much movement and he caught my flailing wrists with one hand.

A tinkling sound seemed to be making light of the situation, making fun of me - but then from the vibration in his back pocket I realized it was his phone. He noticed this too, and paused, holding my arms down as he reached for the device.

"Yes?" He answered sharply, with the annoyance of a man interrupted. "This better be good."

I wriggled harder while he was distracted, thinking this might be my best chance, but he restrained me with ease, his wide palm closing around my wrists without even looking in my direction. He listened for a few seconds before responding. "...Fine. Be right there." He terminated the call and threw the device back into his pants, looking angry.

He said be right there. He's leaving.

I clung to those words desperately as he suddenly collapsed onto me, shifting down so his head laid just below my chin. The side of his face rested on my breasts and I could feel his quick breaths skirting over the surface.

"What awful timing." He muttered, and I felt his diaphragm heave in and out as he gave a heavy sigh.

Maybe for him. Saved by the bell for me.

I waited, frozen, for him to get off me. It was a good minute and I could've sworn I heard him breathing in my scent repeatedly as if trying to save some to take with him. When he finally stood up, I stayed motionless, fearing that if I moved he'd change his mind. To my relief he pulled his jacket back on, businesslike once more, and I dared to sit up. I noticed I was panting.

"As much as I want to stay and see where this goes," he explained, "I have some important things to do." He stood over me once more and reached down, closing his hand around my wrist and pulling me upright. "I'm going to have to lock you in the bedroom while I'm gone."

"You can leave me out here... I promise I won't try to escape." The words sounded ridiculous coming out of my mouth and we both knew it was a lie. He laughed.

Begrudgingly, I let him steer me back down the hall to the room I'd woken up in. Before closing the door, he briefly took hold of my jaw, pulling it up towards him so that if I looked straight, I'd have to look him right in the eye. I looked to the side defiantly.

"Make yourself at home while I'm gone." He paused and grinned. "Though maybe don't get too comfortable without me."

The door was locked from the outside with the thick padlock that had thwarted me earlier. I'd heard it thump, metal against the wood just before he left. I wondered how long he'd be gone. Then I chastised myself for thinking about anything besides getting out of this room.

I'd seen PSAs or read random articles online or something - in the back of my mind I knew that the way to knock down a door was to kick near the lock rather than in the middle. I tried, I really did. Over and over I kicked that damn door; near the lock, away from the lock, with the heel of my foot and with the toe, even ramming into it with my shoulder a few times. It didn't budge. Perhaps this advice didn't apply when there was a fucking beast of a padlock instead of just a simple latch.

I knew I'd been beat. My feet and shoulders ached. I sat on the floor against the bed, grumpily pushing my head into the mattress. My mind turned to what had just happened.

A kiss? Really? What the fuck was that about? And before his phone rang, when he was sitting on me - it seemed like he was planning to... I shuddered. Don't even go there. That was something I did not want to think about. If he was trying to mess with my head it was definitely working. I was sure that was what he was doing, but why this new twist? Maybe he just wanted to show me that he could really do whatever he liked. Show me that he was the one in control here, and he could take anything he wanted to.

I looked around properly for the first time. I'd always sort of wondered where Arthur would've lived if he wasn't in Arkham. This definitely wasn't how I imagined his living quarters... it was too... nice. Everything was nicely furnished, with the sort of finishing touches that definitely came from Homegoods or Pier 1 Imports. There were photo frames with pictures of - I squinted. Hang on a second...

There was a picture on the bedside table, and was of a normal looking couple. Definitely not Arthur. I glanced around. There, on the wall - a different picture of the same couple! I dashed to the wardrobe, pulling it open. Womens clothes. Mens clothes. Normal sweaters and jeans, no ill fitting red suits or yellow vests. This wasn't Arthur's apartment. It looked like it belonged to a couple around my age.

What had happened to this couple? Had... had Arthur killed them just to make use of the shelter? The thought made me feel sick to my stomach, and I was reluctant to touch anything as there was a distinct possibility it was all now evidence in a murder case. I laid on the bed awkwardly, wanting to only get minimal comfort from things that were potentially taken by force.

However, my resolve wilted as hunger began to set in. Nine hours and fourty-three minutes after Arthur had left (I was painfully aware of the time since staring at the clock on the wall was one of the few things I had to do) I could think of nothing much else aside from every morsel of food id ever eaten. Burgers... grilled cheese... a chocolate cake... hot soup... even vegetables were making me drool at this point.

Thirteen hours and twelve minutes in, I'd lost any reservations I originally had with touching the owners stuff. I began rooting around the drawers, under the bed, behind the cupboards, anywhere someone could have hidden or accidentally dropped food. Eventually I had all but torn the room apart, desperate for just a tiny crumb of sustenance, but found nothing.

At some point sleep took me. It was brief and of poor quality due to the pangs of hunger that gnawed at my stomach, but it killed four or five hours of time which was better than nothing.

Where is he? I thought angrily. Why isn't he back yet? Did he leave me here?

And suddenly the thought that he had gone, that he'd left me entirely, was more horrifying than him kidnapping me in the first place. I just wanted to see his stupid face opening the door and letting me out.

My thoughts were beginning to return to the idea of shimmying down the side of the building when I finally heard the front door slam. There was a thunk as the padlock was released, before the door swung open.