AN: So I found time to update again! Hope you all enjoy the chapter...I think it's rather interesting myself..lol. Oh and thanks to Ossiana DeLorme and Hushabye for always reviewing..you guys rock! Ok, on with the chapter...
My hand trembled ever so slightly as I placed my finger on the trigger. "Just do it!" The Joker shouted. As I squeezed the trigger, I squeezed my eyes shut. But then my dad's voice rang out in my head, "Never, ever close your eyes when you shoot. Always keep your eyes on the target." Even if it's another human being, I thought. So I opened my eyes in time to see the bullet strike the boy in the temple. He fell immediately, landing on top of The Joker.
The Joker shoved the dead body off of him. He stood up, fixing his suit and checking it for blood. "Nice work there, Mel," he said, smiling. I just stared at him wide-eyed. He took a step towards me and that's when I noticed one of his eyes was slightly swollen already. Looks like he won't need his makeup to look like he's got a black eye now.
Suddenly, a little girl of about ten years old came running out of one of the bedrooms off to the left. She was screaming, "James!!" and running toward the body of the boy I had killed. I didn't even think, I just reacted as I raised the gun again and squeezed the trigger. Her body fell to the floor on top of her brother's. It was in that moment, that I realized what I was doing, what I was becoming. I dropped the gun and turned my back on the scene only to have to look at their father's body. But I'm not the one who killed him, I thought.
The Joker just started laughing. He walked over and picked up my gun and forced it back into my hands. "Nice job again," he whispered in my ear. Then he walked to the other side of the room, picking up his gun and disappeared into one of the side rooms. I heard the gunshot and knew that he had killed the mother. The entire family was dead now.
He came back out and I turned around to look at him. He had a huge smile plastered to his face, helped of course by his scars. "Come on, you have to help me with them," he said.
"We're not gonna blow this place up or anything, are we?" I asked.
He laughed. "No, no…not tonight. We're gonna leave Batman a message here though."
That's exactly what we did too. While I painted up their faces to match his, he set out some newspaper clippings, likely displaying his next target. I didn't bother to look or ask because I'd rather not know…yet. When we finished, we headed out the door. As we were leaving, The Joker threw two Joker cards over their bodies. Clearly he knew as well as I did what I was becoming…I really was turning out like him.
When we returned to the hideout, I sat in the dark on the couch mentally tormenting myself. I didn't know where The Joker had gone, and really I didn't care. I had more important things to think about.
Why did you do it? I didn't have a choice…I had to save him. Why save him? He's a lunatic. And yet you love him to the point where if he tells you to shoot, you shoot. What the hell have you gotten yourself into? You're becoming an animal. A murdering, psychopathic animal, exactly what he wants, someone like him. Actually, you're worse than him. You killed two completely innocent kids. Ok, so the boy wasn't so innocent, but he wasn't any older than you. You killed someone the same age as you!! And then that girl! She had so much life left in front of her and you…yes you Melanie…took it all away. Wasn't it bad enough to watch The Joker kill her father and then you off her brother? And yet you had to bring an end to her life too. Oh God, why is this happening to me? I should never be forgiven for what I've done. I am truly a horrible person. I'm no hero, I'm no 'good girl,' I can be manipulated in a heartbeat by a maniac. Turned into a homicidal freak who kills first, asks questions second. And I can't stop it…I wish I could, but I can't. About the only hope I have is to not kill again and torture myself forever for the six people I have now killed. Of course, these last two are worse because they really were innocent. Completely innocent…they didn't do anything to hurt me. They weren't even armed and I shot them anyways. I killed them. I kept running these thoughts through my head as I began to cry and replay the events that went down in that apartment as if I was watching a movie in my mind. I shivered as I thought of how that bullet ripped into James's skull and he went down.
I felt hands squeeze my shoulders. I tensed up even though I knew it was him. He began to rub his hands on my shoulders as if he were massaging them. How could he be so sweet and gentle to me after what I've done? He leaned down and whispered in my left ear, "It's ok, Mels. Don't beat yourself up about it, you did a good job…sometimes shit happens."
I turned around and threw myself into his arms and began kissing him through my tears.
--
I was shocked by her reaction. My eyes widened in surprise and I took half a step backward. At first I didn't know what to do, so I decided to kiss her back. As I returned her kiss, I expected her to pull away from me, but she didn't.
--
I kept kissing him. It made me feel good that he was returning the affection. I continued to rub my tongue along his scars. How did he get these scars anyways? I wondered. I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to tear my lips from his so I stayed silent.
--
As she continued to kiss me, I couldn't help myself. I knew it was sort of wrong. She was just an experiment and I was using her to prove my theories to Batman and all of Gotham City. Yet I couldn't stop. She was so gentle with her kisses. I began to kiss her longer and harder. I knew I was showing the animal I was, but I didn't care.
--
His kissing started soft and shallow, but it seemed the more I kissed him, the more charged his kissing became. It became deep and rough, almost angered in a way. I guess it was just a reminder that he was a bit crazy. It didn't stop me though. I pressed my body as tightly against his as I possibly could. I raised my arms up, wrapping them around his neck as I began to play with his greasy hair.
--
I sharply drew my breath. What is she doing?! What the hell is she thinking? I knew this was wrong. I knew I should've stopped, but if this is what she wants, then this is what she's going to get. I became more urgent with my kissing until I was practically devouring her mouth. I had even bit her lips a couple times, rather hard because I tasted blood, but she didn't back down. She actually groaned in delight. Maybe she's drunk or high or something. Then I'm taking advantage of her, I thought. But my thoughts were quickly interrupted as she ran her hands from my hair to my chest and began undoing my tie. So that's what she wants from me…
--
I couldn't believe I was doing this. I wanted to stop. No I didn't want to, but I most certainly needed to. My brain kept screaming "NO!!" but I wasn't stopping, I just kept going, kept egging him on. I had no control over myself anymore.
Then he bit my lip again, and this time it hurt. It was like a wake-up call for me. So I stopped kissing him and pushed him away. I was still crying, but this time because I wanted him but I knew better than to love a criminal so deeply.
He stared at me, puzzled. "Why did you stop?"
"Where did you get those scars?" I asked without thinking and without answering his question.
His hand struck me hard across the face, so hard that I fell to the ground. I rolled over to face him, rubbing my cheek. He looked angry…and hungry. I saw his hand reach into his pocket. He drew his knife and flipped the blade out. Oh crap! I thought.
He took a step toward me. I could see the fire burning in his eyes. I was about to pay for pushing him away. I scamper away from him on my hands and knees. He catches me easily though. I scream. He laughs.
He forcefully turns me over and sits on top of me. He begins to kiss me again, full of hunger and anger…a burning desire to get what he wants and make me pay. I squirm and whimper under his weight. His scars don't feel so great against my skin anymore. I just want to get away.
He stops kissing me for a moment. He stars into my eyes, seeing the terror in them, he begins to laugh again. "Oh, sweets, you don't know what you do to me!" Then he draws the knife again. Oh God, I'm gonna die…after he gets what he wants from me… Laughing, he says, "You're about to find out though," as he begins to cut the dress.
I felt the blade pierce my skin. I drew my breath in pain and surprise that he slipped with the knife. He paused, looking at the damage done to my chest. "Oops," he said with a laugh. Then he bent his head and began rubbing his tongue over the injury, tasting my blood. He's sick…truly sick, I thought. When he finished, he tilted his head up, still licking his lips, as he said, "All better now."
As he reached for the knife again that was lying at my side, I took the chance to get away. I was a fighter after all. I thrust my knee as hard as I could into his groin. He moaned in pain, so I shoved him off and wiggled out from under him. I took off running for the bedroom I stayed in last night. I heard him laughing, but I didn't turn around.
When I reached the room, I bolted into the room and slammed the door behind me. I fell to the floor with my back against the door, catching my breathe through the silent tears streaming down my face. I thought I heard footsteps outside the door. Please God, don't let him have followed me. Let me just be imagining footsteps.