Author's Note: STOP! This is the first ever Irish double-post, so if you haven't read Chapter 19 yet, make sure to read it first!
For those of you still here, two quick notes. First of all, this is a Leena chapter, and it is probably the closest this story will come to an M rating (in fact, part of me thinks that it should be that). Violence and strong language do happen in this chapter, so if that's not your cup of tea, please skip over this one.
Now for the other issue. See, I decided to post these two chapters together because they really do belong as a set, at least in my mind. That being said, my vanity as an author means I still really really want reviews for both. What can I say? I'm shallow. But you get to benefit out of it. Recently a new story idea has shoved its way into my head and is now competing with Unmasked for brain space. It wants to get told, and I tend not to argue with characters who know how to kill people, so here's the deal. If any of y'all are interested in reading that, review both chapters and I'll send you the first chapter I have written in Legacy, a Hunger Games fic with this rough summary:
"After being crowned victor of her Games, Liv Caldwell believes nothing worse can happen to her than the Arena. But when she makes the mistake of refusing an offer from President Snow, she realizes that her own Games were easy in comparison to the one that lies ahead."
Of course if you want to review both chapters because you're nice like that, that's cool too! To be 100% honest, I've NEVER been this nervous about a chapter, not even the kiss one, so whether you love it, hate it, or are somewhere in between, I'm going to break down and beg for you to hit me with it, because this one has to be right.
Chapter 20: End Game
EIGHTEEN HOURS EARLIER
Something had changed. Leena could feel it in the pit of her bones, with the pure instinct life with Jay had instilled in her. Even the others seemed to know it to some degree. Most of them did. Funny which ones. Bailey, of course, with his years working as a cop, knew it. So did the child, the old man, and the one Leena suspected had mental problems. Holdgrove, though, and the man Jay had dragged in about an hour ago seemed oblivious. Holdgrove had gone back to sleep. The other was muttering to himself, rocking back and forth incessantly. It had to be well past midnight, yet somehow the tension thrummed through the group, now huddled towards the center of the room, well away from her corner. They stared at the door. Silent. Waiting.
Jay had come in at night. That was a first. He'd always waited at least until the early morning to arrive. And then he'd left again rather than going to that room of his. Of course, he did things randomly—the times he gave food, the varying abuse he heaped on them, what he made Leena do—but this was different somehow. Leena knew it the same way she knew the concrete floor was beneath her. Something had changed, and where Jay was concerned, change was never good. Leena was exhausted, physically and mentally, yet she was now anything but calm. She stared at the door. Silent. Waiting.
And then, hours after he had left, the door creaked open again. He held a flashlight in one hand, and swung it around, first at the group, then at Leena. The others kicked Holdgrove awake, and slowly stood. Leena kept still. Even after all this time, the natural instinct that if you stayed still you wouldn't be seen took over, left her paralyzed.
Which, of course, was enough to make Jay walk straight up to her.
He shone the light straight into her eyes, then put it under his face, the way campers did when telling scary stories. Leena caught her breath. He had finally reapplied face paint, but now a whole chunk of not just paint but flesh had been torn away in what looked suspiciously like a bite. Despite all that he had done, it caused the same instinctive sense of sympathetic pain any injury did.
"What happened Jay?"
He cocked his head. "Aw, this? Your friend Taylor got hungry."
"Andi? Jay what happened? Where is she?" Leena scrambled up, panic breaking through her weary lethargy. Jay had tortured her, tortured strangers, but until now Pam and Andi had at least been safe. There had been that. "WHERE IS SHE JAY?"
He gave an elaborate shrug. "I don't care." It was a mark of how desperate Leena was that she considered screaming at him again. He spoke before she could. "But she wasss quite a nuisance. We're gonna have to clean house sooner than I wanted."
Leena paused. "What do you mean?"
"What I said of course." Jay rolled his eyes. "Don't worry li'l Harley, you're coming with me. But these others they've, uh, gotta go."
He carefully set down the flashlight next to her, flicked on the light switch installed in the back of the corner and started to hum. Slowly, lovingly, he pulled out one of his knives, tapped it against his palm. She stared at it with horror.
"Oh, don't worry. It's not for you. I'm not even gonna make you participate in tonight's, uh, per-for-mance. All you gotta do is sit back and watch the show." He grinned and fluttered one hand at her, telling her to move back against the wall. He didn't look to see if she obeyed, just turned away and approached the others in their group.
They weren't idiots. They saw Jay approaching, heard the way his breathing picked up with excitement. Bailey, at least, probably saw the light glinting off his blade from the moment he'd drawn it. Most of them backed up, Bailey pulling the kid behind him, Holdgrove helping the elderly man. The only one who stayed down was the man brought in earlier. He seemed oblivious, still just rocking. Leena wondered if he was drugged or had been hit in the head or something. The room was dead silent except for his mutters.
Leena knew what was coming. So did the others. That didn't stop her from shrieking in surprise when Jay darted in, jerked the still-oblivious man upright, and dragged him away from the group. Bailey looked ready to interfere, but before he could Jay had backed away with his prize, far enough that he would have time to prepare if he was charged. The kid grabbed onto Bailey, clearly pleading for him to stay. After a minute he nodded and backed down, leaving Jay alone with his new victim.
"You wanna know how I got these scars?"
Leena flinched, covered her ears as the man finally snapped out of his haze and screamed, screamed like the woman had before, screamed harder. She couldn't block it out, finally opened her eyes and saw Jay slashing at him, through the throat, lips, and body. She didn't know which was worse. The screams that broke through to her no matter what she could do, or when they finally stopped as Jay's knife made a particular brutal slash to the throat. Jay gave the body a few more jerks with the knife, let it drop to the ground.
He turned to the others.
She had to stop it. Hiding wouldn't make it go away. Running, cowering, covering her ears, shutting her eyes, wouldn't end it. Leena didn't know what she was doing, but suddenly she was up, sprinting to Jay. "Wait!"
He turned. Leena saw the glint in his eye and she knew. She knew. Pleading for them would only end with it being worse, more drawn out and painful. What else could she do? What else?
"Let me do it."
Silence. Even Jay looked startled for the barest second. Then he chuckled, grin widening, and flipped the knife so that the handle was held to her. Leena stared at it. The handle was drenched in blood except for five small bare patches where his fingers and thumb had gripped. Her hand extended towards it, then stopped an inch short, shaking badly.
"You wanna do it or not Harley-Quinn?"
Bailey. The child. An old man. Holdgrove. A mentally ill man whose name she didn't even know. I'm doing it for them. Her muscles tensed, as if fighting her brain's orders, but she somehow took the blade into her own hand. She was crying. Bitter, broken, useless tears that would help no one. Leena stared at Jay hopelessly. There was no mercy in his eyes, just warm, wicked amusement. He motioned to the others and slowly Leena turned.
Holdgrove looked ready to jump at her, ready to attack, but Jay pulled out a gun. "Anyone wants me to do it instead, just say the word." She heard him lick his lips and could imagine the smile he gave them as he said it. Holdgrove went still. She could feel his glare burning into her, but even that was just the faintest echo of her own loathing right now.
She stared at them blankly, studying them. Holdgrove clearly hated her, and the kid was trying to be brave but giving himself away by biting his bottom lip. The old man stood very straight. She thought he might be a war veteran, the way he kept his chin up, the disdain and pride in his face. The mentally challenged person looked confused but very, very scared. His eyes kept darting to the dead body and he was crying silently. Bailey… she couldn't look at Bailey.
Jay started to hum behind her. "Hurry up, kid."
No. She couldn't. Not this. Not this. What choice did she have? Not this! Her legs took a shaking step forward. Toward the child. He should suffer the least. He shouldn't have to watch as the others died, as she slowly worked her way through a pile of corpses to him.
Bailey had improvised a sling for his arm. Good of him. Leena tried to keep herself detached, tried not to look, but the kid's heavy breathing caught her attention. She was the one who was going to end that. She was.
Oh God, please! Anything, anything you want but NOT THIS!
"It's—it's ok," she tried to whisper. Somehow her traitor eyes found his, saw the sparks of defiance struggling with the fear. She carefully put her right hand on his shoulder, whether to calm him or steady herself she didn't know. It didn't accomplish either one. She tried to imagine she was doing surgery. Maybe she was. It was an act of mercy, an act to spare him pain. Wasn't that what being a doctor was all about?
In books and movies, a knife always seemed to slide right into a person without a pause. Maybe Leena was too hesitant, or the knife was wrong, or the stories had just plain lied, but it wasn't like that for her. She had to move slowly, precisely, line the blade up so that it would avoid glancing off his ribs, angle it to go straight for the heart. She felt him tense as the tip edged against his skin, and with a sudden panicked strength she shoved it into his chest as deep as it would go.
Blood poured out, warm, sticky, sealed her palm to the hilt. Her hand jerked away, knife clutched reflexively in her fingers. Her other hand, still gripping his shoulder, felt the exact moment when the tension dissolved from his body.
She couldn't breathe. She was choking. The kid slid down to the floor, and she didn't know why she didn't go with him. She just watched the corpse numbly, as if expecting him to move. His eyes weren't focused on her anymore. They weren't focused on anything. Of course not. She had killed him. It was as simple as that. She was a murderer. Somehow Leena made herself look away from him and stand, turned to the next person.
Holdgrove. She stood in front of him, and the minute she got close enough he lashed out, seized her throat and tightened his grip. She was too stunned to pull away. Didn't think she wanted to. What have I done? Why? "Touch me once with that blade you little bitch—"
Jay cocked the gun and he froze. She wanted to wait, wanted but couldn't. His arms were up, an open target and she was desperate for air, for it to be over. The blade punched straight through the ribs and the grip on her throat loosened. Medically, she knew he was practically dead. So maybe she imagined that he was still staring hate at her as he fell to his knees, then straight forward. She barely stumbled out of the way in time, let go of the knife as she did. She stared at it blankly. She couldn't touch his body. Couldn't. That sense of hatred, of absolute loathing still emanated from him like a foul odor.
"Jay?" she whispered, gesturing to the blade. He smiled, walked up to her, and obligingly pulled it out. Holdgrove's body jerked a bit, then went horribly still as more blood rushed free.
"Here ya go Harley. C'mon and hurry it up now."
She gulped. Something in her teetered. She hovered between hysteria and despair. Nothing's right. I'm murdering people as an act of mercy. Nothing's right anymore.
No. That's not true. Jay's right. I think he was right all along.
The admission released a sort of adrenaline. It tingled through her fingers, warmed her body so that her injuries seemed like nothing, released her tightened breathing to hoarse ragged gulps for air. She spun and barely paused to find the proper place to stab straight into the old man's heart, watched the unflinching steel in his eyes dissipate. Nothing to fear from him. It was fast, faster than any she had done before. Somehow she found a smile on her face. A stress reaction? The irony of it? She was getting better at this either way. Could make a career out of it.
A giggle burst past her lips at the thought, as if squeezed from between her ribs. She stifled it quickly, but another burst past as she saw the terrified expression on the retarded man's face. Retarded. She'd never called anyone that before, but why not? Why be so politically correct? She was fucking killing the man! And he looked comical gaping at her like that, speech forgotten in his panic, resorting to animaline grunts stifled by his thick tongue. He tried to pull away but she grabbed him by the arm and, with a burst of furious energy, pushed him against the wall. The blade-work was easy now. In and out. He slid to the ground and she flicked the knife free, flitted over to the last person—
And found herself face to face with Bailey. She stared at him, her rapid, shallow breaths calming under his steady gaze. It took her a moment to recognize the emotions on his face. So different from her frenzy.
He wasn't angry. He wasn't horrified or even afraid. He just looked… sad. She couldn't fathom why. He didn't flinch as she drew close to him, as if about to embrace him, teasingly traced the knife along his lips and cheeks, a pattern that would match Jay's scars if she pressed the tiniest bit harder. A smile played on her own lips, but her sight was all blurry and her cheeks were wet for some reason. She was on a cliff edge, she was already falling, and he was holding out his hand. A last chance.
"It's alright Leena," he said soberly. "It's alright. I understand."
Harley burst out laughing as she gripped the knife tighter and tore him apart.
He just didn't get the joke.
END OF PART II