Emilie
I slowly opened my eyes and saw nothing but darkness. I began to panic at the thought of being alone in a dark room. How long was I out for? Hours? Days? As I was coming to, I began to blink my eyes open again. The room wasn't dark, I was just blindfolded. My head was throbbing and I felt incredibly nauseas. I straightened my back and realized I was tightly strapped to a chair. My wrists tightly bound behind me and an even tighter rope was constricting my waist to the chair. I was certain I was losing circulation in my arms due to how tight I was strapped to the cold metal chair. I moved my legs. No ties there surprisingly.
I tried my best to wiggle my way out of my bounds but I was held up good by the ropes. I was giving my self rug burn trying to escape when I heard some male voices in the distance.
"Keep her…?"
"Who is in charge here?"
"Its too damn dangerous!"
The voices argued back and forth for a good five minutes or so until I heard a loud bang. My heart must have stopped at the sound because I was frozen still. I didn't even breathe until I heard the voices speak up again. I couldn't make out what was being said but by their tone, I could sense the argument was over.
I kept trying to move my head back and forth to hopefully lower the blind fold. I felt even more vulnerable with my sight being held hostage as well. I was certain I was the only person in the room but I had the feeling I was being watched. Something felt off in the room. I turned my head at the slight sound of anything.
The sound of a door opening and then being slammed shut caused my body to stiffen. I bit my lip afraid of what was to come. I had no idea what was going to happen but I just hoped it would end quick. I felt a lump grow in my throat as I tried to prevent myself from crying. I never felt a fear like this before.
"See what spying leads you to?" a voice mumbled.
I recognized the voice from the arguments I had heard moments earlier. The man walked towards me, his footsteps giving his location away.
It felt like hours before anything else happened. I tried to stay calm but I had a feeling he was going to kill me. I braced myself for the bullet. Instead, I felt cold hands feel up the back up my neck then remove my blindfold. I blinked a few times to get adjusted to the light in the small empty room.
In front of me stood a tall man with white face paint splattered on his face. I squinted my eyes trying to make sense of this scene. The paint looked crudely done and it was probably done a few days ago, due to its sheer coverage. He had black paint covering the areas around his eyes and his lips were red, that of a clowns. He tossed the blindfold away and kneeled down to my level. His mouth seemed to have a permanent smile but it was just scars on his face, also covered in red paint. His ear length hair had a green tint to it and it was slightly wavy. I began studying his face, incase I escaped and had to give a description of my kidnappers.
I kept my lips pressed together as I saw him take out a knife from his purple suit jacket. He played around with it in his hands while never breaking our eye contact. He examined his knife a few times and then return it to his pants pocket. My Dad had always repeated two things to me my entire childhood. Never let anyone see your fear or let anyone know your next move. That advice was difficult now as I was just trying to stay alive.
He began running his calloused hands up and down my bare thighs and then down to my ankles. My legs gave away my fear by producing goosebumps all over. I watched the man lick his lips slowly as he watched my skin change and then he stood up. He took off his jacket and then leaned down to my level, his face inches away from my own. I felt his breath on the side of my neck and immediately closed my eyes. I tried to regulate my breathing and keep my mind and body calm. Inside, I was panicking, thinking of every worst case scenario.
"Mmhmm," he leaned away from me and adjusted his shoulders.
I didn't want to stare, given my predicament, but my eyes deceived me. His facial scars were healed but still visible beneath his clownish make up. I almost felt sorry for him, as he kneeled back down in front of me. I know he noticed me starring blankly at his face. The makeup was disturbing, but the fact that this man accentuated his scars instead of hiding them, concerned me. He was a madman. I've heard about the destruction he was causing in Gotham. He was all over the news-printed and online. They called him the Joker. I don't recall if that was a name the man gave himself or the media began calling him. Regardless, it made him seem even crazier than most broadcast criminals in Gotham.
Feeling this monster run his rough hands on my legs, made me feel dirty. I wanted to kick him in his groin but I knew what battles to fight. Me being bound in a chair, face to face with a mass murderer was a delicate one. I was kind of hoping to be killed off quickly. I could not handle pain well. A tiny bruise would have me complaining. I've seen way too many horror films to play this game.
"Make this quick please," I pleaded, now avoiding his deep gaze.
I could no longer feel any circulation in my arms. My head was still throbbing from the bus ride and the light was giving me a headache. The rope around my waist was tight as well but not enough to constrict breathing. One positive…
He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper, "Oh, you're making demands?"
He quickly stood up before me. I did not glance up at his towering frame. I kept my eyes pinned to the wood floor. I regretted speaking but I had no idea what to do. I was literally helpless and I figured not talking was worse.
He walked behind where I sat and that quick started my heart. It was practically beating out of my chest. I was certain he could hear my fear. I wanted to turn my head to look behind me but decided against it. However he decided to kill me, I would rather not see it coming. Like a needle at the doctor's office.
It feel like days before he made a move on me. The warmth of his hands were first. I sat there, my body completely ridged once I felt his touch. I was still restrained but even so, I was as stiff as a board. My eyes opened again. They darted all over the empty white-washed wall in front of me. The room appeared to be empty, aside from my chair prison.
His hands were feeling up and down my neck and collar bone. I kept my head straight, fearful of any weapon. I already saw his knife so I knew that at least existed. His right hand ever so slightly, wrapped itself around my neck. My body was trembling beneath his forceful advances.
I'm going to be strangled.
19 years on this planet and I die by strangulation. Go figure…
My breathing increased. I watched the rise and fall of my chest quicken with each slow touch. His hands worked their way down underneath my shirt but stayed over my bra, surprisingly. His hot breath upon my neck once again, caused more shivers on my spine. I closed my eyes again as I felt one hand leave and the other cup my breast. I thought I was in the clear until I felt an ice cold blade press against my neck and began tracing my collar bone.
"Oh my God," I barely mumbled. My eyes were still frozen shut in fear. It bothered me how quiet he was. I didn't want to know his next move, I just wanted him to try to talk to me. Maybe, a conversation could change things.
"Please," my voice timid.
"Please," he mimicked.
If I can't see what happens, it'll be easier. I tried to think about anything else. My legs began to shake again as he moved his blade up to my throat. He flipped the blade so the flat side was pressed up against my skin. The pressure increased until I had to swallow in order to take another breath.
His face was almost touching my exposed neck. In the corner of my eyes, I saw him lean in to me. He inhaled deeply and let out a low chuckle. His other hand moved away from cupping my breast and rested itself on my right shoulder. On my left, he was still inching closer. I kept my eyes and face forward. He smelled of cigarettes and whiskey, familiar scents from home.
Without warning, he switched the blade back to its sharp end pressing back into my pale skin. He began pressing deeper and deeper. It was so sharp, I became desperate.
"Is it money you want?" I could hear the agitation in my own voice.
He cleared his throat but he didn't let up with his blade.
"Please, name a price. My parents can get you any amount you need," it was a lie. I felt a lump in my throat, not from the unforgiving blade but from my oncoming tears. I was desperate. My life was on the line. I just wanted to see my dad again. I wanted to go to the beach with my friends and to taste my favorite cheesecake again. I wanted to learn how to fly. I needed to see the sunrise over the mountains.
He gripped my shoulder tightly as he forced the blade in my skin deeper and deeper. I felt a warm liquid ooze down my throat and trickle down my neck. His hand that was bracing upon my shoulder, kept squeezing on and off. My neck was on fire but I was afraid to speak, in fear that that would make the wound open more.
The blade paused and hovered for a moment while he took his other hand to trace my neck. He brought his bloody hand up to my eye level.
"You," was all he managed to whisper slowly into my ear. He rubbed his fingers together, making a mess of my blood and his dirty hands. He took a finger, and traced my bottom lip with his bloody finger. Once he covered my lip in my own blood, he retracted.
He placed his hand back onto my shoulder and grabbed me firmly. The blade found its place back into my wound and was about to press even further until the door opened.
I locked eyes with a man standing in the doorway. I pleaded with my tear filled eyes. His expression became that of shock as he watched the Joker loosen his possessive grip on me.
"Not…now."
"Boss, its urgent," he raised his eyebrows, trying to communicate with the Joker, cautious to reveal too much around me.
"How urgent?" he mocked in return.
"…Batman," the man replied sternly, still holding the doorknob.
The blade was released. I held in a breath, as I watched the Joker saunter towards the door. He did not look back at me as he said, "Get Charlie to watch her."
"He's not here," the man peeked behind his boss to glare at me again.
I began catching my breath again as I listen to them bicker.
Unexpectedly, my captor grabbed him by his shirt collar and pushed him into the door frame.
"You watch her then!"
I watched the Joker walk away, running his hands through his green tinted hair. A trace of red now visible.
The short, stocky man approached me with caution. I felt like a caged animal. My throat was still aching but I didn't feel any more blood sliding down my pale throat.
He shut the door behind himself, and slowly walked over to me. The silence was overpowering. I wanted him to say something. Maybe I could convince this moron to release me. He seemed weak in comparison to the Joker.
I locked eyes with him. He nervously stuck his hands into his jean pockets. I licked my lips and tasted my blood mixed with vanilla lip balm.
He appeared to be the same age as myself. His copper colored skin was covered in tattoos. He had a thick black beard, that made him look older than he was.
I watched him walk behind me. I tensed up again, as I felt the man untie my bounds constricting my waist. He left my arms tied as he lifted me out of my chair by my armpits. His strength amazed me, as he lifted me up with ease and placed me against the nearest wall.
I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was up to. A small part of me was hoping he'd release me but I didn't want to raise the bar that high.
He looked me up and down like a piece of meat then slammed his sweaty body into me. My arms were being crushed by his weight into the wall. He placed his hands on my shoulders and held me in place with his body. I winched, trying to avoid his face.
I tried to fight my out of his grip but I had no strength. It didn't help that my hands were tied and I was only 5 foot tall. He wasn't much taller than me but he had me beat by his weight. He let out a grunt, leaned in and forcibly kissed me. All I could smell was the stench of his sweat and alcohol. I tried to buckle my bound body underneath him but he was too strong. I began kicking so he turned me around so my face was slammed into the wall.
My cheek took the brunt of the blow. He held a hand on my upper back, keeping me in place. My body stiffened once I heard the sound of him unzipping his jeans.
"Get off me!" I screamed as loud as I could. With his free hand, he reached around and began unzipping my shorts. I tried to move my body around so he couldn't get my shorts off.
I kept screaming, my throat in pain already from the cut and now becoming sore from my desperate cries for help. He kept pressing his groin into me, while struggling to take my shorts off.
Tears rushing down my face. I was praying for someone to kill me. End this day for me. I no longer cared about seeing the Earth from an airplane. I just wanted to feel no more pain and not lose my virginity to a sweaty criminal.
He leaned in, "Its only turning me on more, Babe."
I kept screaming for help and moving, refusing to keep my body still. He finally got my shorts off. They fell to my ankles and I knew it was over. His free hand grabbed my hip and pulled me towards his groin. My screams now cracking as I tried my best to kick him.
He grabbed my thong and was about to pull it to the side when the door burst open. I couldn't see who it was, because he had me facing the other direction.
My tears were falling at a rapid speed and my body was convulsing. I thought being murdered was the worst outcome, now I knew gang rape was worse. The other person that entered the room would probably have their way with me after he was done. And then other person and then another until I was passed out from the immense amount of trauma.
Not a second passed and the man holding me suddenly released his grip on me. The sound of him screaming was then heard but I refused to turn around to investigate. I couldn't take any more shit.
"Fuck!" the man repeatedly screamed and then it stopped. I peeked behind my shoulder and regretted it immediately.
He was laying on his stomach, laying in a pool of his own blood. I heard a deep gurgling sound and I almost threw up. I closed my eyes and stood completely still. My hands clenching behind my back, the restraints the least of my worries.
I'm next. I'm next. I'm next. Fuck, I'm next.
I was almost naked, my hands tied behind me, and my upper body in various types of pain. I feared the worse.
My hands were freed and I was forced around by my shoulders. I locked eyes with the Joker.
"Get dressed," he scolded.
Not taking my eyes off him, I quickly pulled my shorts up and zipped them with haste. I rubbed my wrists nervously as I watched the Joker look me up and down. I wiped my tears, as soon I remembered they were there, from my face. Ashamed.
I saw him glance down at the body before us. The Joker turned to me and cracked his neck, letting out an exaggerated sigh. I avoided looking down at the body that was just touching me.
The man that kidnapped me and just had a knife to my throat, had just saved me. Or was it that? Or was he just upset someone had gotten to me first?
Regardless, I was still apprehensive and looking for a means to escape. I saw the door was still open and I began bracing myself for the run.
