Warning - this chapter's going to be a little bit violent...
Warning - Joker gets crazy fluffy.
He slammed her onto the bed, and she felt tears prick her eyes. She'd instantly regretted what she said - especially after what her kidnapper had said afterwards. Now, they were back in his bedroom (a place Leila hadn't seen in a long time), except last time, it had been pleasant. Did he remember? Did he remember that all that time ago, she had been laid in the same position, peaceful and weary? Did he remember how he'd held her to him, defended her from his jealous partner in crime?
Did he remember any of that?
In the heat of the moment, it seemed not. Leila had been right: the Joker's eyes were a shade of black she'd never seen before. They say black is the absence of colour, but she'd never understood. But now, looking into her kidnapper's eyes, she could see it. She could see nothingness itself. Looking into his ebony eyes, all she could see was emptiness.
In that moment, he didn't remember.
Then from his perspective, looking down at her: her clothes he'd given her were creased and dirty from the several days she'd been forced to wear them: Leila really did look like a hostage. The clothes were still as revealing, however when he gave them to her, the Joker liked that. Now he despised it. It sickened him to think that he'd ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her body. In that moment, he hated her. She was just a shell of the beautiful, innocent girl back at the bank robbery. She was just a vacant, lifeless carcass of what could have been an incredible woman.
How he hated her.
The Joker pinned down Leila's arms, forcing her to lie on her back. She kicked him furiously, tears now streaming down her cheeks, her voice a unintelligible shriek of exasperation. Her attacker straddled her quickly, hips to hips, her legs forced to wrap around his thighs. Leila had nothing to push him with. He had complete control of her.
"I don't understand!" the Joker bellowed. His pupils dilated so that there was no colour in his eyes besides the melancholy black and white. "What do you want? Who do you want me to be, sweetheart?"
He struck her with the back of his hand. She cried out.
"First, you think you can protect yourself. Okay. Then, you need my protection. Whatever. So I'm in charge of you, right?!"
He struck her again, this time across the other jaw.
"Jack, stop!" wailed his vulnerable hostage.
"Don't try it, doll." His voice came as a hiss, but it was equally as loud as before. He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her forward into a seated position; her legs hanging off the bed, but still with him straddling her hips. His face was close to hers now.
"But when I'm in charge," he continued slowly, "you don't like it. So I take you to a hotel room. I look after you. I give you something the girls in this town would kill to get. And what do you do...?"
Leila was silent.
The Joker roared. "What do you do!?"
"I don't know WHAT I did, Jack, I don't know, but I never asked for any of this to happen, I never thought I was controlling you, and I never wanted this!"
The Joker stood up, lurching Leila forwards with him, and began to march her out of the bedroom.
"Where are we going?" Leila's voice shook, though she tried desperately for it not to.
"I'm not going anywhere." replied the Joker cooly. He thrust open a door, revealing a cheap bathroom. There was a shower, a toilet, and a sink. A sink full of water. He finished his sentence sinisterly. "But you are."
Leila gawped at the sink for a brief moment before the realization sank in. She began to scream at the top of her lungs, screeching 'help' more times than she could count, flushing out her lungs of any air she managed to take in.
"You can never keep your thoughts to yourself, can ya doll?" It was a difficulty pushing her forward, but the Joker managed to shove her against the sink. He did so by standing directly behind her: his back against hers, his crotch against her behind. She noticed he wasn't aroused. He wasn't playing. Leila tried to whip her hand around to hit him, but it was too late: the Joker had her arms pinned uncomfortably back as well. 'God'.
The next thing she knew, her kidnapper had her bent over the sink at a right angle, her nose skimming the water in the bowl. She didn't scream anymore: she needed to hold in as much air as possible during the actions that would follow. Instead, she panted heavily through her mouth - her breaths rippling the water in front of her.
The Joker let her wait there for a moment. She was going to die anyway. It would be more fun if he let her think that there was the slightest chance that she would survive.
And he plunged her in.
The first thing Leila noticed was the temperature of the water: ice cold. It was pleasant on her burning cheeks - burning from the Joker's hands on her tender skin. Her hair fell forward, swirling around calmly in the water around her. She blinked a few times (adjusting her eyes to the conditions), then watched it as it danced in its peaceful waltz. It was strange, how her body seemed so calm, but her mind was howling uncontrollably.
Still, she held her breath.
Out of the water, Jack pinned Leila's arms back with one hand, his other hand forcing her head beneath the water. The hand holding her arms was on her wrist: he could feel her pulse. At first, it was still strong from the atmosphere beforehand. Roughly a minute had passed before her adrenaline began to wear off. He felt her sag a little beneath his hips, weak, but her pulse still drove on.
Still, she held her breath.
Now, as she gazed around the clarity of the water, she could feel herself leaving. She could feel her breath leaving her body, being used up around her pumping veins, and her chest grew tight. But she couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She closed her eyes, but not tight. She needed to save energy wherever she could. Leila's chest was uncomfortable now: it was like her lungs were expanding and distending her ribs. She couldn't hold in the pain, she needed to inhale.
But still, she held her breath.
Her pulse was there.
Her body was tensed.
And then her body collapsed.-
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
She was lightheaded.
Thump thump.
What happened?
Thump thump.
She was alive?
Thump thump.
Leila's eyelids felt heavy, as if they hadn't been opened in centuries. When she finally lifted them, even her pupils felt aged: they struggled to focus, and the room seemed distorted. She felt sick.
Leila closed her eyes again.
Thump thump.
With time, other bodily functions began to cooperate. Her touch came back first. Even with her eyes closed, Leila could feel a wall. Behind her back? Her palms lay on a wooden floorboard. She was sat down, definitely. Next came her hearing: it was silent, wherever she was. There was an indistinct noise coming from far away, but she couldn't make it out.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
Her heart felt so laboured in her chest. Her breathing? Not quite as so. It was so soft, she couldn't hear it. So thin and lifeless. But she knew she was alive; all her senses told her so. Delicately, Leila lifted her palms and ran them across her cheeks. Her cheeks were hot... But her nose was cold. And... wet? She noticed her hair was wet also. What had happened to her?
And who was crying?
She attempted to open her eyes again, and this time, it wasn't as sickening to do so. In fact, the room wasn't something that required much adjusting to.
There were no lights in the room. There was two windows to provide lighting, however judging by the outside, it was evening. The sun was setting, and the only light cast in was the amber glow of the dying sun. Slowly, Leila pushed her vision around the room. Yes, she was definitely sat on a floorboard. Gazing around, she noted all the peculiar furniture. The decor was of greens and purples, some black/white here and there, but only in tiny amounts. Maybe as a small decoration, but everything else was predominantly purple. There was a four-poster bed. A checkered patterned duvet.
And - curled up at the side of the bed - there was a man. Sobbing.
Now she remembered.
Mustering up all the power she had, Leila attempted to get on her hands and knees. She wanted to go over to the man, to reassure him that what he had done to her was out of a blind rage, that he didn't know what he was doing. She remembered the hotel room, and how she'd said the same thing to him then. 'He must feel so terrible...'
She couldn't quite make it to her hands and knees, so instead, Leila coughed.
The Joker stopped crying immediately. He was sat with his back against the bed, knees curled up to his chest, his head hung in his hands in shame. He looked just like a little boy, Leila thought to herself. He resembled one so much. Slowly, he lifted his head from his quivering hands. When he looked up at her, his eyes were no longer black. They were a lowly shade of brown again, but they were very glassy. The whites of his eyes were tinged with pink from his tears.
"I'm sorry." The Joker tried to tell her, but his voice was barely a whisper. But Leila understood. She nodded back at him, trying not to upset her sensitive head and make herself feel ill again. The Joker put his head back in his hands.
It took a few minutes, but Leila was soon on her knees, crawling over to him as carefully as she could. She didn't want to fall and ruin her attempt at talking to him: it may be the only opportunity she would get. He didn't look up when she sat next to him beside the bed.
"Jack?" she murmured, extending a gentle palm towards him. He didn't respond. She placed her palm on the crown of his head, lightly pulling her fingers through the strands of his hair. He sniffed meekly. "Please tell me what's wrong."
He sniffed again, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and exhaling. His words came slow, but that was okay. "I never..." He exhaled again. "I never want to hurt you..."
Leila continued stroking his head, listening all the time.
"From... From the day I saw you in the bank... I never wanted to hurt you. You would just be... a pet. Something for Harley... I neglect her, y'know, doll..."
She was patient. He gazed up at her, eyes big and gleaming with tears. "I hate myself for what I've done to you." His voice cracked; "and I don't know why."
"What do you mean, Jack?"
He sniffed, choking back tears. "I like hurting people, doll, I've never regretted anything. I keep trying to hurt you, to prove to myself that I haven't gone soft, but it always ends like this."
"Like what?"
"With me crying like a baby with my hostage comforting me." The Joker scoffed a little at the truth of what he said.
"And when you're in danger... I want to protect you. I never want to protect Harley. But with you... I feel... protective. I've never felt like that."
"What's happening to me?" he asked her submissively.
But she couldn't answer him.
What do you guys think to my return?! The Joker's starting to fall for Leila now, but he just doesn't realise it. Does she realise she's falling for him? More to come! *I will try to incorporate some ideas from the reviews;)*