CHAPTER 2
I did eventually wake up. In an unfamiliar bed at that. The room was painted a solid dull grey. The bed was dressed with grey sheets, black blankets, and black pillows. Everything looked like a black and white movie. Even I was still in my little black dress. Except for one thing. A bright rose. Sitting in a black vase resting on a table across from the bed. Okay, I was confused. This wasn't the hotel I was staying at for Amanda's wedding. Which was yesterday. Everything started to piece back together.
Then I thought of this ugly nightmare I had. Except I have this really tender spot above my left eye. I was really losing it. Up until I heard a familiar laugh. It echoed through the room. And no one was there. But he was still laughing. And it did sound so familiar. Only the laugh I remembered was much higher pitched. And much younger. And then he entered through a door that blended into the wall so well, I hadn't seen it there before. His eyes were on me. And me only. He sat down at the end of the bed. Still smiling.
"You see, Emma, I thought I'd never see you again. That day you moved." Somehow this struck a nerve. And I remembered something. "But guess what? I found ya!" His laughter started up again. "Can't you just feel the connection?" He laughed harder. I felt tears well up behind my eyes. But I refused to cry. I shook my head viciously. "I don't know you! You, freak!" I screamed. "Why thank you, I am." He said. "You'll remember Emma. Believe me!" He got up and left the room. I wasn't sure when he was coming back. And I wasn't so sure about what he was talking about either.
And then a memory flared up. And the things he said began to make sense. I remember, when I was about 4, moving into this run-down apartment with my parents and my sister Ally. My parents both worked night shift, but my sister was 10 then. And she babysat me. Each night we'd hear screams and crying. And each night a man was at our door. 'Don't tell your parents anything, or you're next.' He'd always say that. And Ally and me were always too scared to tell our parents of the screams.
And one day, I went next door, after the man had left. I think by now I was 6. And I entered the apartment. And I wished I hadn't. There was this young boy, I'm guessing around my sister's age then. I saw him on the floor. He was laughing, with two huge cuts along the side of his mouth. A dead hamster lay in front of him. He had a knife in his hands. I just sat there, and cried, while he laughed. I didn't know what death was then. But I had seen her. A woman, who must've been his mother, bloody on the floor. He didn't once stop laughing. I didn't once stop crying. And then Ally had dragged me home. And that night we heard a gun shot.
The little boy shot his father. And that's when our parents decided it was time to move. No wonder why I repressed these memories. They were so terrifying. And now I was kidnapped. By the same little boy I tried to comfort. He was insane, obviously, and I didn't want to stick around. I looked around, trying to find another escape route besides the door. There was a window. I reached for it, only to be found stuck. My hands were tied together, and connected to the bed. I couldn't go anywhere.
And he did come back into the room, something black in his hands. He was silently laughing to himself. Something was terribly wrong with him. He put the mystery object on the table across from me, I now recognized it to be a video recorder. He clicked a few buttons, then started laughing. "Oh boy do I have a night for my fans." He started laughing. "I can already hear them cheering." I just stared a little confused. And then he looked over at me. "Speak your name sweetheart." Such a wonderful word coming off foul lips. I remained silent. "I'm sorry I didn't catch that?" He sounded a little more serious this time. I shook my head. I heard him sigh.
He had something else in his hand. And he threw it at me. It landed on my chest, luckily there was a blanket between us. I screamed when I realized it was a dead rat. And flung it from me. I heard him squeal with laughter, clapping his hands together. "What's your name?" I looked at him, terrified. "Emma…" I managed to mumble. He started laughing, making his way over to me and sitting once again on the bed. "You remember don't you?" He laughed, he could tell I remembered who he was. He saw it through my eyes. "Don't you just feel our connection?" he asked yet again. I shook my head angrily at him. "Leave me alone!" I screamed.
And there was a knife. It cut at the ropes that tied my hands together. Then he grabbed my hand, resting it on the bed. The knife hovering over our hands. It first pierced though his hand, which went through my hand. Both of our hands stuck to the bed by a knife. I screamed out in pain, tears now flowing from my eyes. And he was laughing, enjoying every bit of it. "I sure feel it!' He slowly took the knife out of our hands, blood oozing onto the blanket. He got up and looked at me. "You're just so fun!" And then the knife came down again, back through the same hole in my hand. The pain was just so intense, I felt myself blacking out again. But before I could, he held out a bandage. "Clean yourself up. You're bleeding everywhere!" He screamed, throwing the bandage onto the bed.
The worst part was having to pull the knife back out of my hand. I was too afraid of doing it quickly, even though it probably would've hurt less. So I was forced to pull it out slowly. Screaming in pain during every second of it. Then I slowly wrapped my hand with the bandage. Wincing each time it went over the wound. I thought he was gone. But he returned after a few minutes. With a new knife. And then he was on the bed, hovering over me. In sudden instinct, I kicked, kneeing him in the stomach and making him topple over. He only laughed though. And his gaze was suddenly evil. His hand clutched my face, I could've sworn he was going to break my jaw.
The knife rested against my cheek. The waterworks beginning.
He smiled with enjoyment, then raised the knife. My eyes closed. I thought I was going to die now. And I heard him laugh. I heard something cut though. And then noticed him holding some of my hair. "I liked your hair better short!" He screamed. He was still hovering over me. This time my hand landed on his face, trying to push him away. But his hands pinned my wrist down on either side of my head. He leaned down really close. I was hoping to god he wouldn't kiss me. It really looked like he would. But instead, he spit on me. Directly on my forehead. My face wrinkling with disgust. He laughed, jumping off of me. He picked the bloody knife from before off of the floor. Nodding his head at something. Everything was quiet.
"Let me go!" I screamed, breaking the silence. He turned around, unsmiling. He closed his eyes. Thinking of something. And then a smile returned. "Tempting, but no." He laughed. I kicked him again, wanting to stay as far from him as I could. But unluckily I missed. His smile was gone, and he clutched my face. Too hard. He brought the knife to my forehead. First a sharp pain which quickly turned into raging pain. Tears were flowing and I felt him writing on my forehead. He was laughing all the while. Then he brought the knife away.
"That looks terrific!" He screamed. "Would you like to see it?" I shook my head. I didn't want to. But he held the knife at a certain angle, making the word Emma appear on my forehead backwards. He laughed again. His hand reached behind my neck, pulling me up towards him. I did all I could, used all the strength I had to push him away from me, but I failed. He was too strong. And the next minute, his disgusting lips pressed against mine. I struggled for freedom, when someone was knocking at the door.
"WHAT!" He screamed. A voice from behind the door replied, "We have a problem." He turned his face around to me. And I felt his hand collide with my face, I knew a bruise would be forming. "I don't kiss on the first day whore!" And then he lowered his face again, and licked my forehead. I winced at the thought of him enjoying the taste of my blood. He chuckled and got up from the bed.
He reached the door. And pulled out a gun. "If she gets off the bed, shoot her." He laughed and went through the door. But turned back, before it shut. "Don't kill her. I'm not finished with her yet." I started crying again and he saw this. His smile grew bigger and he laughed pulling the door shut. I could hear him laugh for a while. Until finally he was gone. My eyes hooked with the other guy in the room. He was big. And had tattoos along his arms. He had long hair, which was pulled back onto a braid. He looked at me. I felt disgusted. The look of lust in his eyes. I wrapped myself tightly within the blanket, wincing each time I had to move my right hand. I cried, tasting the salty tears and blood in my mouth.
I heard gun shots, in the background. In psychology class, I learned to block everything I didn't want to hear, see, or feel. And that's how I laid. My eyes open and unfocused on anything. I tried not to hear what I did. Shooting outside of the apartment. But my ears just wouldn't reject these sounds. I think then I fell asleep.
Because when I did refocus on my surroundings, the guy was gone from the door. And a purple jacket laid on the bed, by my feet. I heard footsteps and immediately closed my eyes. I didn't want the Joker to think I was awake. I could hear him walking around. I wasn't sure what he was doing. And then I felt something on the side of the bed behind me. I wasn't sure what was happening until…..
The mattress was being flipped and I was flung from the bed to the ground, busting my lip open, another fierce headache forming again. I heard laughing from behind me. "You sleep too much. That's no fun." I felt a lot of pressure on my leg, and then I yelled in pain. He was stepping on me. I looked up at him, he loved the fear in my eyes. "Emma, you don't look too happy. Anyone with me, is going to be happy."
He bent over, pulling me up by my arms. I was too weak now to do a thing. I just stood limp in his arms. And then I was in the air, being flung over his shoulder. He was carrying me somewhere. I heard the door open. I saw a trail of blood behind him from me. He walked out the door and turned, bashing my head into the door frame. Oops," he giggled. He kept walking. I felt like I could get sick. "Put me down," I whined. "Your wish is my command," he said. Flinging me from his shoulder and onto the ground. And then he grabbed my ankle, continuing to drag me into another room. Everything was getting fuzzy. Black and fuzzy. And numb. Finally I blacked out once again. But not before I realized I was inside a bathroom.