Chapter 7: Claw
I clawed against his hold as he began lugging me up the stairs. I clawed to find purchase inside of myself as the strongest part of me slipped away.
Find the part of you that almost won against him.
But, how could I with his threat to 'fuck me bloody' was echoing through me like a scream in a cave?
He's just a man.
A devilish man. Evil incarnate. My own hell in human form.
And he loves me.
Nausea coils in me and I hoped that I would puke on him and he'd leave me the fuck alone.
He hauled me somewhere again, though, this time I couldn't quite tell where thanks to my chaotic thrashing.
"This is where you belong, little lamb," he was excitedly breathless as he peeled my ripping fingernails from his neck, "You belong fighting and kicking and screaming against me, and losing every time. And I'm going to prove it to you. We're going to pick up right where we left off all those years ago!"
"NO!"
"No!" he echoed mockingly before he reprimanded, "Why say 'no' now when you're the one who choose this?"
"I would never choose this! Let me go!" my voice was wild and I had the thought that I sounded more like a beast than human.
"Oh, no, darling, that's where you're wrong!"
My stomach slammed against my spine when he suddenly pitched me forward. I landed ungracefully on my back and bounced. I was on my bed, the very same that Blake and I shared. I don't know why I noticed my Bat suit hanging back up in our closet. Blake must have put it back up for me before he left. It stood there silhouetted in the shadows like a ghost of my stronger self.
"What did I say would happen if you tried to fight?" The Joker said, bringing my attention back to him.
He dodged in front of me as I tried to flit off the bed.
"Get out of the fucking way!"
"Aww," he chuckled, as if he was playing a game of tag with a child, "I don't think I will, sweet pea. I made a promise to you," he zipped in front of me again as I swung my leg over to the opposite side of the bed and shoved me back down, "And I intend to keep that promise, as I always do."
"What the fuck are you talking about?! Let me off the bed!" I kicked out against him.
My foot was suddenly snared in his vice of a grip, "Oh, come on, Blaze, don't tell me you're too hot and bothered to remember? The whole reason you were pretending to be such a good girl for me downstairs?"
My mind rejected memory. I was a puddle of panicked terror, which intensified impossibly when I felt something roughly encircle the ankle that he still held. He lassoed my foot with the same thin rope he'd used to bind my hands. His muscles bunched and he used my bound ankle to flip me.
The world lurched and I was confident that I would vomit. The disturbingly familiar scent of the bedsheets I shared with Blake filled my nose.
I lashed out against him still as I fisted the bedsheets in an attempt to pull myself away from him. My foot met flesh. I scrambled away with renewed intensity after my successful hit, only to have my marginal progress arrested when a heavy weight fell on my back.
With some strangled effort, I looked to see The Joker's shoulder muscles ripple under his shirt as he straddled my back facing my feet. I squirmed again, my panic deepening impossibly as I smelled a particularly strong patch of Blake's light cologne on our sheets.
"You knew what would happen if you fought, cupcake," a length of rope fell around my other ankle, "You know better than anyone what happens when you give a mad dog a chase," the rope tightened harshly.
He's right. If you would have just stayed quiet and pretended to be docile, you would still be in the kitchen, not face down getting tied to your bed.
No! I can beat him!
No sooner did that thought cross my mind than I felt my one of my legs being tugged outward.
A panicked look over my shoulder told me that he was winding the rope attached my left ankle around my bedpost. He was trying to pull my legs apart.
"Awwww," he taunted appreciatively, watching the muscles in my hamstrings begin to quiver as a resisted. The hand not holding the other end of the rope fell on the back of my thigh. My knee was forced to buckle into the bed, ruining any sort of advantageous posture my leg could hold. The rope slipped in his favor marginally. I howled in frustration, but wouldn't give up. My thighs were still together and fighting with every muscle in my body to stay that way.
The hand pinning the back of my leg stole some of my attention as it began to trail up towards my bottom lightly.
"No!"
He laughed a genuine laugh like Blake did when we wrestled in this same bed, "But how could I resist, hellcat? I haven't even touched you yet and you're already a begging, quivering mess!"
And here his cruelty was illuminated. As I felt his hand being to palm my ass, I realized that he could have easily used both hands to pull against the rope and he would have won with ease. Instead, he used the opportunity to fuck with my mind. To fondle me and make me jerk away from his hand, distracting me enough for him to overcome the resistance in my leg, successfully yanking one thigh away from the other. I tried to yank it back as I felt him securing the rope around the bedpost with no luck.
I was already braced for him to try to capture my other foot. I twisted my foot this way and that, knowing in my bones that my fight was hopeless. With my limbs bound and me facedown, there was little I could do to stop him.
True to form, he chuckled as he wrangled in my ankle, giving my ass a mean smack as he did so.
"Such a naughty girl."
This time, he used two hands to pull my right thigh away from my center. He made quick work of securing my remaining foot to the other bedpost despite my best struggles.
"No!" someone screamed. The voice wasn't mine. It was the voice of me from all those years ago.
"Oh, yes, cupcake. And now, for one final touch," his weight shifted off of my back.
I immediately squirmed to try to spin around and, in doing so, yanked my arms from beneath me. I started to push against him when I felt him kneel onto the bed by my head.
"No, no, no, no!" I sobbed as I felt even more rope wind around my already-bound hands. With one vicious yank, my arms ripped above my head. He was winding the other end of the rope around the center of the headboard. He tugged on his finished knot like a proud boy scout. His face started to turn toward me before I buried my face in my bedsheets, fighting to keep my screams from pouring out. I was on my belly, bound with legs spread-eagle on the bed.
Helpless. You let yourself be helpless again.
I yanked against my bonds with all my might. I probed for any source of weakness, though I suspected there were none. This bedframe had been built from cherry wood by Blake. It was more solid than a rock, immovable, unbreakable.
The opposite of me.
So, I had no choice but to lie there and struggle as I felt him shrug off the bed. His footsteps scuffed around on the floorboards lazily and I was too scared to look up. My legs were parted harshly in what felt like a full split. My arms were immovable. My ass, still thankfully covered with my underwear, was on full display for him.
I was powerless.
Hopeless.
And he's barely even touched you yet.
I cursed myself for not fighting with more intention as he pulled me up the stairs. Just like before, I had let my emotions get the best of me. Some part of me figured that he would have drawn everything out like he had last time, waiting weeks to actually rape me.
Not this time, clearly.
"No!" I screamed as I felt the hopelessness being to creep in. As much as I hated to admit it, there was little I could do at this point to stop him from raping me if that's what he intended. But I would not let him have my soul. Per his own admission, he wanted me hopeless. Helpless. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
I realized with a start that his shuffling footsteps had stopped. I felt his presence at the end of the bed staring down at my parted thighs, in the darkness, just outside of my field of view.
Somehow it was worse not being able to see him. Even worse still that he had fallen uncharacteristically silent.
He truly was my boogeyman, my own personal demon. He was watching my struggle and clearly enjoying it.
My cheek still turned into the mattress, I inhaled and exhaled deeply. I forced my bound limbs to relax.
My fight hadn't worked. I needed to see if I could talk my way out of this.
"Joker," I impressed myself with the sudden chilling calmness in my voice, "You proved your point. Now let me off the fucking bed."
I couldn't explain it, but I felt him smile in the darkness.
He let me dangle in silence. A footstep sounded. Then another. He was slowly drawling his steps up the bed.
"And what would be the point of that?"
My reply was arrested when I felt his fingertip touch to the bottom of my foot – still scarred from the burns he'd left all those years ago – and begin to graze up my ankle and over my calf.
I forced myself not to react.
It's what he wants.
"You've proved that you're stronger than me, okay?" I prayed to a god I didn't believe in that he couldn't hear the panic creeping into my voice, "Pretty fucking pathetic that you need to tie me down like this to get control over me, don't you think? I thought you were supposed to be all big and bad."
His voice sounded trancelike as he took another step, dragging his fingers lightly up the back of my thigh, "Funny you should use that word. 'Pathetic…,' I was just thinking the same thing about you."
His hand dragged up my ass cheek then. A finger slid under the crotch of my panties and began to trace the hem of the fabric down towards my center and back up towards my bum. He didn't actually touch my most private place, just threatened to. He finally drifted into my field of vision. At some point, he had removed his shirt.
"Pl -," I strangled the word midway along my tongue. I buried my face into my mattress to keep it captured. His finger paused momentarily.
You will not say, 'please.' You will not fucking beg like a dog.
"What was that, sweet cheeks? I couldn't quite hear you," his hand continued its maddening path and I was sure he would rip my underwear off at any moment. His breathing was shallow, fast, and I could only guess what he might be thinking. Was there any hope left that he wouldn't rape me?
I forced myself to be mute with clenched teeth.
You will not give him what he fucking wants. You will not beg.
"You said you didn't come here to hurt me," I tried to reason when I was sure a plead wouldn't come out. My veil of calmness was getting thinner by the moment.
"I know."
I looked up sharply, surprised by his agreement. Cool moonlight filtered into the room between slits in the heavy curtains that I had drawn last night. The Joker looked frighteningly normal, almost handsome. His face that usually held a dangerous smirk was instead set in a serious scowl, his jaw jumping as he ground his teeth.
"You're right. I had planned not to take you or touch you for a long while. Even last night, I went way further than I ever intended."
"Then why?" I demanded, pulling again at my restraints again with mounting frustration, "You brought rope, extra even! You planned this! Why?!"
His pupils swelled when his gaze twitched to my wriggling limbs. Movement caught my gaze and I looked down to see his other hand beginning to palm the front of his pants. In the same moment, I felt his fist close in a tangle of my underwear. His voice was still far away, wistful, but beginning to grow angry like he was waking from a nightmare, "Don't try to blame this on me. You make me lose control."
He tore away my last shred of dignity with one motion, leaving my bottom half exposed.
Stay calm.
"Alright, alright! Then, what the fuck do you want, then? What do I have to say to get you the fuck away from me?"
His head slipped back and he inhaled deeply before sliding his gaze back to me. He gnawed his bottom lip for a moment before he said, "That's just the thing, Blaze. There's nothing. There's nothing you can do or say that will keep me from doing whatever the fuck I want to you."
My face drained of color as he considered my bound form again, clearly taking in the truth of his own words, "The only thing that has ever kept you safe from me was my own resistance. And the bad news for you, love, is that I don't have the strength to resist anymore."
I could keep my struggling to a minimum no longer. And, like a moth to flame, The Joker closed in on me. His weight fell on my back.
"Now, where were we when last we left off?"
"Stop!"
A long hand wound through my hair and yanked my head back. I instantly knew what his next words would be, as I had replayed in them in my head a million times over. It was the same thing that he had said to me all those years ago after he came twice and sliced me open.
He said it softly right into my ear, just as he had before, "Oh, come now, I'm not being much of a gentleman, am I?"
"Shut up! Get off me!"
"Shhh, sh, sh, my hellcat, I'll be nice tonight. Instead of fucking you bloody like you deserve, I'll make you come for me."
I screamed a real, raw scream. His salty palm fell over my open mouth.
"There's that scream I've been waiting on! How long do you think you'll last, sweetheart?"
His long arm extended out to my end table. He gripped the clock resting there and flicked it towards us. A disturbingly light hand made its way down to my core and began kneading.
He removed his hand so I could scream my reply, "You could never turn me on in a million fucking years! Your touch makes me want to puke!"
He chuckled a light chuckle that fluttered his breath over my hair.
"I'll make you a deal, sweetheart. If you can avoid getting wet for me, I'll let you go for tonight. How does that sound?"
"No, no fucking deal! Get off of me!" I crooned against all hope that he would listen this time.
His grip clamped on my throat hard enough to make my ears sing, "Not like you have much of a choice, huh, love? Seems to me that your choice died downstairs when you tried to kill me."
"You des – deserve," his grip tightened but I forced my voice to croak around it, "You deserve to d- d- die."
He pecked my cheek as my vision began to fill with black, "That's the only true thing you've said all night."
And then his heaviness disappeared from my back. I gulped in breaths and choked like a woman drowning.
When I could focus on anything but breathing, I was feeling a persistence beginning to tease me. I gasped with horrific realization when I looked over my shoulder to see his face buried in my core. His forehead was just visible over my ass. Though I couldn't see it, what I assumed to be his tongue lathed over my sore clit with surprising gentleness.
My scream was raspy after being strangled.
His eyes rose up to mine and smoldered with a heinous smile. All the while, his tongue explored me with the curiosity of a wolf licking up the blood of a deer. Pressure trailed up and down from my slit. I felt something maddeningly warm dip into me and taste before darting away higher, higher, until it circled my clit. The same pressure began flicking against me.
"Please!" I begged, finally setting my pride aside though it was far too late, "Please let me go! Stop touching me, stop – " I sucked in a shocked breath when I felt his mouth close on my clit. He sucked like he was slurping up the juice from a peach.
Against my will, a ripple of pleasure coursed up inside me.
"No!"
Something was teasing my entrance and I looked back to see his arm curled up beneath me. He was just barely teasing me with his fingers as he released my clit, only to draw it in again with more intensity this time. His tongue flitted over my clit again and I felt my eyes slam shut.
I bit down hard on the comforter under my mouth, willing my mind away from his careful ministrations.
You cannot allow yourself to feel pleasure from The Joker? What the hell is wrong with you? Do something! Beg, plead, anything!
"Please stop! Even if you make me - ," I clenched my teeth as a second wave of pressure fluttered up my spine, "it doesn't mean anything! I don't want this!"
His other hand reached up and clenched the back of my neck, forcing my face down into the mattress with a growl that vibrated through my core.
Think of something else. Anything else. This cannot be happening. This has to be a nightmare.
I managed to turn my face to the side, "You could never make me feel anything other than disgust, you bastard!"
"Oh, really?" I felt my blush deepen as his voice was muffled by folds. To prove his point, I felt two of his fingers fully dip inside me aided by slickness, "Then why are you getting so wet?"
"Even if I was, it's my body responding, not me! I don't want this!"
His laugh sent curls of his breath around my folds. His fingers and his mouth quickly switched positions, "I know, love, it's only part of the fun to see how long you'll last. And you're only two minutes in."
"Stop!" I keened again. His rough fingers massaged the folds around my clit with infuriating form as his tongue lapped at the moistness seeping out of me.
I could have died with mortification as I felt his dangerous hum of satisfaction zip up my spine as he tasted my moisture again and again. The hand not teasing my clit moved to grip my thighs and bum with painful desperation. A third ripple of pressure ripped through me, this time reaching all the way to my throat.
"Please, stop, plea – " a weak and broken me pleaded, the tears streaming down my face evident in my tone, which only seemed to increase his feverish devouring.
His mouth and fingers switched places again. Any semblance of patience was thinning and his ministrations became more urgent. His harsh breath fell from his nose in desperate pants as his mouth lapped my clit. He was sucking, pulling, teasing, ravaging it madly. Two rough fingers plunged into me and filled me. Somehow, I felt his mouth turn up in a smirk when I cried out as his fingers curled inside me.
Another wave of pleasure was almost enough to bring me to the edge. I wasn't going to last much longer. I realized I was biting down on the bedspread with enough ferocity to make my jaw ache.
"If you come for me, your soul is fucking mine," he growled against me, but I was lost in the seething rolls of persistence rampaging through me, "I can feel you tightening around my fingers. I can feel your body begging for it."
"No!" I screamed, barely holding onto my resistance, surfacing only momentarily like a woman gulping in water in the deep sea.
"Mmmm," he grumbled appreciatively as a particularly heinous round of pleasure made my tears intensify, "You say, 'no,' but your little cunt is sucking me in like a vice."
I felt the truth of his words as he added another finger deep into me. My eyes rolled back as I felt him fill me, stretch me, and scratch that perfect itch inside me so completely it made my knees feel like jelly.
"No! Please, please, plea – "
"Please, what, Blaze? Do you want me to make you come?"
Though I withered to admit it, my body screamed, 'yes,' as I could only shake my head, 'no.'
A tortuous drag of his tongue along my clit and I felt the beginning of the end build in my core.
"I'll stop if you can say it. Tell me to stop, Blaze. Tell me, your low-life rapist, to stop fucking you with my fingers and tongue, and I'll stop."
My throat was closed completely and I was lost to the pounding pleasure rippling through me. I made sounds like I'd never heard before and a distant part of my mind screamed at me. I was too far gone, in a free fall. I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't think… at least about anything other than the release about to break through. I tasted blood, sure that I was biting through my tongue. A distant part of me wanted to tell him to stop, but I knew that the moment I opened my mouth, I would only tell him the opposite. I would do anything to keep myself from begging for his mouth back on me, begging to be pushed over the edge.
At my muffled gasps of erupting pleasure, he laughed, "That's what I thought," before his mouth fell back on me.
I wasn't sure what hurt worse, the punishing grip he had on my ass or the sudden sharp pain in my ankle. The tension of my near-orgasm curled my limbs inward, so much so that the rope around my ankle was surely drawing blood. The pain was just enough to pull me out from the waves for a sliver of a moment.
I had only that half-second to realize that the bedpost to which my right ankle was tied was beginning to give way. I must have been pulling at it all this time. Before I drowned in my ill-gotten orgasm, I gasped and made one final lurch with my leg.
The bed post snapped loudly.
I felt him startle slightly between my thighs before his forearm crushed my now-struggling limb back onto the bed.
He literally growled right against me, still eating me out like a man starved. The hum of his voice zipped through my core and sang his anger along my spine.
It took everything in me to rip my focus from my still near-crushing pleasure to my leg. I flicked my heel back hard into the back of his head repeatedly, forcing myself to twist and buck out from beneath him.
My movements only succeeded in grinding my hips against his fingers that beckoned inside me.
"Fuck!" I screamed, out of pleasure or frustration I wasn't sure.
He was still growling as his burning fingers encircled my rogue ankle and slammed it down to the bed.
If you can say, 'stop,' he said he would stop.
"St – ," a nearly-painful shudder of pleasure ran through me as his mouth drew my clit in one, twice, and a third time with a flick of his serpent tongue.
"N –," my words died in my throat.
He fucked another finger into me deep, curling them cruelly right into that sensitive spot just inside me. At the same time, his tongue lathed perfectly over my clit, swirling and twisting. My body gave up to him slowly at first, and then all at once.
White filled my vision as my shattered scream fell around me. I felt the orgasm in every organ and inch of me. As the release wanned like the waves lapping at the shore, red hot boiling fucking anger took its place.
The bastard was still licking up the new slickness covering his fingers and my opening with feverish ferocity. His eyes were locked on my core as he devoured me and I got the sinking feeling that he wasn't done yet.
His grip had loosened on my freed ankle. With a twist, I managed to clamp his neck between my thighs.
"You sick fucking – ," I tightened my hold, feeling his hands begin to fight me, "rapist!"
With some effort, he managed to peel himself out from between my thighs with a laugh. He hunched over the foot of the bed like a gargoyle, glaring down at me madly. That devilish tongue darted over his lips and then his fingers as I flipped onto my back, my free foot coiled like a snake ready to strike. His eyes were bright, almost happy.
He studied my cocked foot with amusement before settling his black gaze back on me, "Still want to fight, princess?"
I struck out at him and, though he saw it coming, my heel still met his chin with a satisfying crack.
He kneaded his jaw as he grinned down at me. He looked… proud, almost.
"That's my mean little hellcat."
I gnashed my teeth and thrashed again, this time my kick was dodged.
This time, my tone was cold as his eyes fell to my exposed sex, "I'm not your anything. I never will be."
"You think so?"
"I know it."
"What? You don't find me as charming as your pussy does?"
"Get out! Get the fuck out! You did what you said you'd do, now get out!"
"He's going to rewatch the footage, you know. He's going to know what I did to you. He's going to hear the way I made you scream."
At that, my stomach curled. He was right. Every room in our home had cameras, even this one. Though I knew deep down that my body and mind were separate, I imagined the betrayal flicking over Blake's face if he knew that I orgasmed. I wondered how I could face him after this.
"I'll leave you to ponder that, sweet cheeks."
I began to flinch away from him, but he only reached down to release the rope still holding my left ankle to the bedpost. I quickly scrambled up to the top of the bed and away from him.
Though I was tempted to keep him in my periphery, I had to focus on freeing my hands, which were tied to the headboard.
He cannot escape. You have to at least subdue him until Blake gets home. The armory is literally in the next room.
I wound the remaining length of the rope around my forearm and braced my feet against the wood. I was just beginning to strain against the wood in hopes of snapping it when I felt him brush his lips against my forehead.
"Goodbye for now, Blaze. I love you."
"Go to hell," I pulled with all of my might against the wood and almost reveled in the pain of the rope cutting into me.
I tried not to look at him as his hand caressed my cheek, his thumb gliding along the bruise he left last night.
"I have been in hell, sweetheart, waiting for you to come back to me."
"Good!" I spat at him and it landed on his bare freckled chest. I pulled again against the headboard fruitlessly, trying to think of a way to stall him, "I've been in heaven forgetting all about you."
"Is that why you've been beating up my ghost in alleys? I'm surprised Bat Boy let you get away with that one. He seems like he's shoved further up your ass than I am. Weren't you worried one of them would catch you with just the perfect left hook," he tapped his knuckles to my jaw, "and you'd wake up with your pussy all bloody in a basement? Or did you hope that's what would happen?"
"It was worth the risk for me to see them turn from predator to prey just like what I did to you."
I half-expected a hit, but instead he just replied lightheartedly as he cupped my chin, "Ooohhh, you're asking for it, sweetheart."
I twisted my face from his grip as I continued to strain against the wood, "The only thing I'm asking for is your head on a fucking pike. The next time I kill you, I'm going to make it count."
"I thought you Bat folk didn't care much for killing."
"For you, I'd die myself if it meant I could kill you."
His expression was warm as he shrugged down. His chin rested on his folded forearms on the bed next to me, "How's that working out for you so far, toots?"
In answer, I pushed down with my legs with particular vigor as I pulled up with my arms. This time, I was rewarded with the satisfying sound of wood splintering.
At that, he groaned like an insolent child. He pouted as he stood, tossing his dark shirt back on, "Maybe it's for the best that you always ruin everything. It keeps the game more interesting," his eyebrows wiggled as more wood splintered under my hold. He drawled lazy steps toward my bedroom door, his big boots making the wood creak under his weight. When he peeled upon the door, he had the fucking nerve to look over his shoulder tauntingly.
"Follow me if you dare, princess, but you might not like what you find. Oh, and, uh, don't let Blake bully you again. If I find out that he gets in your way like that again, it'll be the last thing he does."
He left the door ajar so I could glare at his retreating form hopping down the stairs jollily. I ground my teeth together and, with two more vicious yanks, the wood beam snapped and I narrowly avoided punching myself in the face.
I didn't waste a single second. I dove off the bed and jolted into our small but mighty armory. I grabbed the biggest gun I could hold with my hands still bound and the matching ammunition. No sooner did I click the safety down than did I hear the front door closing downstairs.
"No!" I hissed in frustration.
You cannot let him get away again. He's unarmed and alone. This could be your last shot.
I all-but-flew down the stairs and flung open the front door. I was immediately met with a short hail of gunshots. I realized after diving behind cover that the gunspray was not directed at me, it seemed. There were no bullet holes in the front door or glass windows near it. I peaked around the doorway to see my driveway bathed in the blinding light of another vehicle parked adjacent to The Joker's.
I shot around the corner half-blindly, hoping that my lifetime of bad luck would reward me with one good shot to The Joker's fucked up head. Instead, both large vehicles in my driveway began reversing down the long path that led to the little-travelled road. I watched their brake lights retreat behind narrowed eyes as I weighed my options. I could pursue, but The Joker had seen to it that The Rumbler be smashed to bits. My personal motorcycle, the only other vehicle in the cabin, would have left me heavily exposed. And, considering the spray of gunfire from earlier, they were armed. I would need to put on my armor to stand half a chance, and by that time they would have been long-gone.
"Fuck!" I howled in frustration, gripping my hair and flinging the gun away.
I huffed to the kitchen, my feet slicing over the glass from the broken window, and snatched a knife from the block. I hacked away at my restraints awkwardly. My eyes were not focused on the rope, however. My thoughts were distant, pondering.
The Joker knew where we lived. He must have eyes on us 24/7 somehow. I glared out of the window, but the forest did a hell of a job of concealing any peeping toms. I let my bonds and my knife clatter into the kitchen sink as I stomped up the stairs, dressing myself in a furious haze. Anything to feel less on-display after what just happened. I ripped away the shreds of rope tattered around the bed, but could do nothing to hide the various pieces of snapped headboard lying around.
He's going to know what I did to you.
The Joker's statement echoed through me. I was partially comforted by the fact that The Joker insinuated that Blake was still alive and would be home at some point. At least I knew he wasn't going to be killed or held prisoner wherever he was.
But that meant Blake would be home. He would ask what happened and I wondered if there was any way that I could tell him the truth.
He's going to know what I did to you.
My feet carried me to the smart room, a small closet that we used to store our surveillance equipment and odd items. I was singed by the green judgement stare of the monitors as I squatted on an old paint bucket. A few clicks left me hovering over the "delete all history" button, but it had to be done. I pressed it and watched the horror of the past hour become undiscoverable.
Just as I exited the closet, Blake's hulking Batman form was shutting the front door behind him.
He was panicked as he ran to me, folding me into him with an unfamiliar desperation. He'd never embraced me like that in his Batsuit, we always left the tender moments to Blake and Blaze. I did all I could not crumble into him after what I'd just been through.
Assaulted again. This time under our roof. On our bed. And I'm going to lie about it.
"What happened?" he breathed into my hair. He cupped the back of my head with a gentle hand as I nuzzled into him.
It was better this way, if I could see his eyes and he couldn't see mine. I buried my face in his shoulder as I synthesized the lie as I spoke it, "He broke in. He found me downstairs and I ran into the bedroom. We fought up there. He tied me to the bed just to restrain me, but I broke out and fought him off."
His ministrations as he rubbed my back stilled. I could feel the cogs turning as he came to several realizations all at once.
"He found you, nearly naked in the panic room? Did he try anything?"
"Nothing so bad, I had these clothes tucked away in there so was already changed when I realized he broke in, thank god."
He pulled back, his palms resting on my shoulders to keep me at arms-length so he could study me. I was wearing one of his oversized black shirts and joggers. I didn't need to read minds to know that he was trying to remember if there were any clothes stowed in the panic room.
"And what were you doing in the closet just now?"
"Hiding. I heard you pull up and I thought it was him again. Where have you been? Ran off to go get him without me, I see."
Seriousness fell over his eyes and I tried not to be intimidated by his gaze, "I did what I had to do to keep you safe."
I shooed his hands off my shoulders, "And look how fucking great that turned out! He almost had me, Blake!"
His tone was simmering, "If you had come with me, he would have definitely had you. There were about fifteen goons waiting where your tracker said The Joker was. I tried to escape without a fight so I could make it home to you once I got the ping that our alarm went off, but they gave me no choice. I don't know how I made it out of there in one piece."
Bruises and cuts touched to his exposed chin and cheeks, but there were no bullet wounds or slices. Nausea curled inside me, "I know."
He tilted his head at me.
"He wanted you to escape. He's toying with us. If he wanted you dead, you would be. He just wanted to waste your time so he could get to me. And, to be fair, he really was there at first. When he saw only you, he left and came here."
"So he already knew where we live somehow? Fuck," he ripped off his cowl and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture reminding me instantly of The Joker, "Whatever, we'll deal with that. Are you okay?"
Am I?
My rage fell away at his question and I felt devastation bloom.
No, I wanted to tell him. He assaulted me again and forced me to like it this time, in our bed. He told me he loved me and threatened you. I am not oh-fucking-kay. I am so far from okay.
I wanted to bare my soul to him, but I remembered his reaction when he found out The Joker touched me on the boat.
If I find out that he gets in your way like that again, it'll be the last thing he does.
Blake was still waiting for my reply, I realized with a start. At some point, he had put his hands on my shoulders and was looking down at me with heavy concern in his black-smudged eyes.
"Blaze, are you okay?"
I nodded because my voice wouldn't have worked. I was suddenly hyperaware of the bruises and saliva that The Joker had left between my thighs. Tears built and I turned away from Blake, heading toward the stairs.
"Where are you going?"
"To pack. He knows where we are now. We're getting the fuck out of here."