Chapter 17 - Behind The Scenes

'Why? Why did I run? Why did I run!'The question gnaws at me like a constant ache, echoing in my mind with no escape.'How could I be so stupid?'

I don't know how long I've been trapped in this room. At first, I tried to keep track of the time. The sun would rise and set, marking the passing days, but after a while, it all blurred together. Time no longer had a meaning once the devil himself would enter into the room To start the'games'.

His games... sick, twisted games. I couldn't escape, couldn't even find a place in my own mind to hide from him. The torturous hours seemed to stretch on forever, each moment worse than the last. The pain never stopped. It was there constantly, reminding me of the crutail mistake I've made.
Elena was right. Eventhough I don't want to admit it—not to her, not to anyone—but she was right. Coming here was a mistake. I had hopped that Gotham would be my chance to start new. To start over but now I'm not sure if I'll never make it out alive.
I can still hear his laugh pierce through my mind. That horrible, maniacal sound that never leaves me. It's as though it's burned into my mind, always there even when he's not. And my own screams haunting me. They play in my ears, drowning out anything else. Every image he forced me to see, every cruel punishment he's forced me to endure comes rushing back, vivid and terrifying.
I don't want to cry anymore, but here they are again—tears I thought had run dry. My body trembles, as I press my face into the dirty mattress, trying desperatly to block out the visions swirling in my head. The mattress... also a reminder of what Joker did to me. One of his first punishment. When he dragged me back, tied me up, and took away the only protection I had left.
My long hair, once a shield I could hide behind, now barely reaches over my breasts.
I have no choice but to endure the flashbacks as I continue to lie on my side. This man really was a psychopath for everything he put me through. For as much pain and agony that he caused me, he was having at least twice as much fun.
He loved to watch me suffer.
*FLASHBACK*
The silence presses in, suffocating. Every muscle in my body is wound tight, like a coiled spring, and I'm scared—no, terrified—that any moment now, he'll break me.

I keep my gaze fixed on the floor, my eyes burning, but I refuse to look up at him. Not when I can already feel the weight of his presence, looming over me, filling every corner of the room darkness and unpredictability.

He stopa right in front of me. He's close—too close. Savoring every moment, watching me flince and squirm under his gaze."Ari-ah..." The way he draws my name, clicking with his tounge, butI still force myself to keep my head down. I don't want to look at him, I just want to get home, hug my sister and hide myself away in a dark room forever.

His shadow falls over me, the tension so thick, you could probably cut it with a knife. Then without warning, his hand grips my hair, fingers tightening painfully as he yanks my head up, forcing me to meet his gaze.

I wince in pain, my throat tight. I lift my eyes but they don't reach his. Instead I focuse on the middle of his nose.

'I can't look at him. I just can't.'

But of course he doesn't like me avoiding eyecontact. "Still trying to ignore me, Ari-ah."Joker murmurs, and his voice—so soft, so deceptively calm—only makes the fear bloom stronger inside me. "Let's see if you can also ignore this."

With a sharp motion, he jerks my head up even more, so that I'm forced to meet his eyes are pitch black. There is nothing behind them. No humanity, no mercy, just pure madness shining through.I want to shrink back, but his grip on my hair is too strong.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the reflection of his knife in his hand. It makes the cold blade run up and down my face. The touch so light yet so dangerous. Tears slide down my cheeks as I force myself not to move to avoid getting cut.

"Let's see if I can get-ah pretty little smile out of you, huh?" Joker taunts, pressing the blade against the corner of my mouth. His breath is hot on my skin, and his voice—oh, God, his voice—it almostsoundsaffectionate. "Come on, kid. Just a little smile. Show me those perfect pearly white's of your's."

The cold steel against my lips makes me freeze. The fear claws at my insides, twisting into something pressure of the blade increases slightly, warning me to play along if I don't want the same grotesque scars as him. The corners of my mouth twitch and I force myself to give him a small smile.

His eyes glimmer with amusement, and he runs his tongue over his lips like he's savoring the moment. But then he shifts, his tone suddenly mocking. "Good girl-ah," Joker whispers with a chuckle. He lowers the blade, dragging it just slightly down my neck, down my collarbone leaving a shiver of cold in its wake.

"Joker, please..." My voice cracks as the words stumble out, thin and broken. I try to swallow, but the fear makes it impossible to get a steady breath. I hate him. I hate him so much for what he's doing to me, but I hate myself even more for begging for his mercy.

"Please?" he mocks, the word dripping from his lips like honey. "Beg all you want, Ari-ah but I'm only just getting started."The blade moves, grazing around my neck,my pulse beating wildly under the blade.

"I'm sorry, Joker," I cry, my voice barely a whisper, cracking as the words slip from my lips. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." Before I can finish, Joker's hand moves sharply to my chin, his gloved fingers digging into the flesh, forcing my head back.
"You should be sorry, kid," Joker murmurs, his voice dangerously low, like a serpent coiling beneath the a flick of his wrist, the knife slices againt my leg. The pain is immediate, sharp—like fire coursing through my veins. I gasp, but it's not enough to stifle the scream that rips from my throat, raw and desperate.

The blood drips slowly, soaking the fabric of my clothes, and I can feel the pulse of it beneath my skin. It's unbearable, the searing agony mixing with my helpless sobs. I want to pull away, but his hand on my chin keeps me rooted to the spot, forcing me to endure it. Joker's laughter fills the space around me, louder now, like it's an echo of my pain."Ahhh, there it is," Joker chuckles, dragging the blade down a little further, teasing, taunting. The pain intensifies, as I cry and scream for him to stop. "That's better. Much better."

*BACK TO REALITY*
I don't dare to move as the door opens as the devil himself enters the room. All I can do is mentally prepare myself for what's about to happen. The air feels thick, almost suffocating, as The scrape of his shoes on the wooden floor grow louder as he approaches me.

I force myself to lay still when the matress shiftens underneath his weight. His hand gently rests on my torn up jeans and lightly caresses my leg, my whole body instinctively tenses up. His other hand pushes lightly on my shoulder, a deceptively gentle touch that forces me to roll onto my back.
My eyes immediatley meet his gaze. The same cold, unpredictable eyes. The same madness lurking beneath the surface. But I can't look away. He still hasn't said a word yet, the silence driving me crazy. He's waiting for my apologies, which immediately burst out of me. "I'm ... I'm sorry Joker," I croak, my throat feeling extremely parched . "Plea- Please. Don't hate me. I'm so sorry. I promise, I will never run away from you! I swear!" I can't stop the desperate words from pouring out. He still doesn't say a word and the anticipation is to much. So, I keep begging, my voice trembling, trying to hold onto the last shred of hope that maybe—just maybe—he'll spare me.

For what feels like an eternity, he simply says: "Come here". His hands grip my shoulders, pulling me closer, and before I can process what's happening, he presses me into his chest. I stiffen in his arms, unsure of what this means, but then my body betrays me. I sink into him, pressing myself further into his chest, breaking down completly.

Joker strokes my hair, his touch terrifyingly gentle, as though nothing has ever been wrong. "It's all right now, kid. I'm not angry anymore" I want to believe him. I want so badly for it to be true. But with Joker, you never know. his mood swings are horrendous and unpredictable.
"I... I won't do it again. I sewar —I -"

"Shush. Shush. Shush." Joker interrupts, his voice gentle but firm as he continues to run his fingers through my hair. His hands are like silk, like poison wrapped in a velvet glove. But I can't focus on that. I can't focus on anything but the tiny hope that maybe—just maybe—I've done something right.

But then, just as I'm about to nestle further into his chest, I hear the soft click of metal. My heart stops for a second, and I freeze. Scared that another wave of pain is about to shoot through my boody. But a second later the cuffs fall from my sore wrists.

I could finally move my hands again and at that moment I didn't care if he was a psychopathic clown who put me through hell, I needed that damn hug. But just as I'm about to hug back, Joker's grip tightens around my wrists. His fingers dig into my skin, holding me in place.

Fear seeps back into my bones, cold and unrelenting. My breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

"Now, listen carefully, kid," Joker whispers in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "I trust that there won't be a repeat of what you did last week."

'LAST WEEK?'At least now I had my answer as to how long he had tortured me. The words echo in my mind, but before I can even begin to process what he says, the pressure on my wrists increases. I wince, a yelp escaping my throat as he pulls me closer to him, his grip crushing.

"Because if there is, you will suffer worse thandeath-ah." The words sink in like a knife. My skin goes cold, and a shiver runs down my spine. I squint my eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of his voice as it lingers in my ear. "Do you understand,Ari-ah?" I nod gently yes, but that's not enough for Joker, because with his free hand he pulls my head back forcing me to look at him. "You know I hate it when people mumble, kid. So what did you say?"

A shaky breath escapes me which I didn't realize I had been holding in. "I ... I understand, Joker. I promise, I'll beheave." With that hepulls me back into his chest, his arms wrap strong around me.

"Good girl-ah."
I've never thought that I'd be happy to hear those words. It means I'm doing something right. It means he's not going to hurt me, at least not right now. I take a deep, shaky breath, pressing my face into the fabric of his checkerd shirt. A scent of—cigarettes, gunpowder, and cologne—fills my senses and to my dismay, it seems seems to have a very comforting effect on me.
"I really don't want to hurt-ya, kid," Joker murmurs, his voice dropping a bit softer now. "But if you continue to bebad, I will break you."

"I'll be good. I promise!" My voice barely a wishper and I meant it. No matter what Joker would ask me to do, I would do it. All just to stop being tortured by him, because I didn't know how much more pain I could take until my body finally gave up.
Just as I was getting used to his body heat, Joker lets go of me, but pulls away completly, his hand wanderes into my hair again and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. I don't know which side of him scares me more right now. Or what I should think of his actions, but if Joker wanted to kiss my forehead, I wouldn't stop him.

When he's done, he pulls back slightly, gripping my chin gently. I'm forced to look at him, but his expression is cold, calculating.

'Why is he staring at me like that now? Have I done something wrong?'

His gaze flickers over my face, then softens for just a moment before he speaks again. "Between you and me," he says, his tone almost affectionate, "your new hairstyle looks pretty good on you. Much better thanyour-ahold look."

I don't know how to respond. His words make no sense, yet they stir something deep within me. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, exposing my face further. "Now you can't hide behind your hair so easily either."

I swallow hard, my mind reeling from his words, but before I can process them, Joker's hand is outstretched to me. I take it instinctively, and he lifts me from the bed, but I got up too quickly, because I instinctively feel my body giving way beneath me. Before I hit the floor however, Joker grabs my waist and presses me into him.

The tension in the air is palpable as he guides me back to his room. His grip firm but not as harsh as before.
As I had already suspected, he stays in the room, but this time I don't feel so uncomfortable undressing in front of him. I was in too much pain to worry about what my body looked like, plus I didn't want to risk upsetting him. So I stripped down to my underware and took all the time in the world to wash away the dirt and dried blood off me.

'I desperately need a shower!'

I step into the shower, the hot water pouring over me. It's like a balm to my bruised skin, soothing in a way that almost makes me forget, for a moment, the hell I was forced to endure. But the relief doesn't last. As the steam builds up, so do the memories. The images of what he's done to me, of the pain and the fear, start to flood back. I close my eyes, trying to push them away, but they're relentless.

Tears mix with the water running down my face, hot and salty. I wish I could wash it all away. But I know that I can't. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to escape the things he's done to me.

Just as the weight of those thoughts threatens to drown me, the water cuts off abruptly, and I freeze. "Um... Joker?" I start, my voice shaky, but I don't get the chance to finish my sentence. A towel tightens around me from behind, and I turn, startled. He stands there, his expression unreadable as he dries me off with a deft, practiced motion. I don't fight it, even though every fiber of my being wants to pull away. Instead, I stand still, feeling small and vulnerable in front of him, his hands moving over my skin with an odd gentleness.

"There, all clean and dry," he says, his voice low but almost soothing.

I whisper a quiet,"Thank you,"but the words feel hollow, empty, and I'm not sure if I'm thanking him for the shower or for the brief moment of kindness.
His eyes are cold, calculating as he takes in my appearance. When I step out of the bathroom I glance over at the bed, where a fresh set of clothes were laid out. Dark blue underwear, black jeans, a black tank top, a checkered shirt, and a pair of black Converse.

'Did Joker really take all of my stuff?'

After I finished changing, Joker guided me downstairs, his hand on the small of my back as I stumbled infront of him. My legs still felt weak, shaky from everything I'd endured, but I focused on the one thing that mattered now: food.
As we made our way to the kitchen, the smell hit me instantly—a mixture of burnt toast and slightly overcooked scrambled eggs. It wasn't much, but it was more then enough. I hadn't had a real meal in probably days, and my stomach ached with hunger, growling at the mere thought of food.

He motioned to the table, where a plate sat waiting for me. The eggs were darkened at the edges, the toast singed, but I didn't care. I barely remembered the last time I ate, and my body needed nourishment more than anything else.

Joker took his seat across from me, his eyes never leaving me. His gaze was calculating, watching me with that unsettling stillness. I swallowed hard, the hunger gnawing at me, but I couldn't bring myself to touch the food just yet.

As I sat down, I scanned the warehouse, trying not to let my unease show. It felt wrong—quiet, too quiet. The usual sounds of the place, the chatter of his men, the occasional clinking of tools or distant voices, were all gone. The room felt emptier than usual. Where were the others? Where was Logan? I glanced around, my mind racing, but I didn't dare ask. I couldn't risk saying the wrong thing. I kept my focus on the food in front of me, my stomach growling louder as I willed myself to stay still.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Joker didn't speak, and neither did I. His gaze remained on me, his presence filling the space like a storm waiting to break. I could feel the weight of his eyes on me, and my hands twitched nervously at my sides. "Aren't you hungry," he ask curiously.I picked up the fork and took the first bite. It was slightly burnt, the eggs rubbery and a little bitter, but I didn't care. I devoured it quickly, not wanting to seem like I was hesitating.
It was a gift from Joker and I had to show him just how thankfull I was for it.

Joker watched me closely, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way his lips curled, something almost like satisfaction in the quiet.

After a few minutes pass, Joker breaks the awkward silence between us by clearing his throat, his eyes flicking to my plate. "Finish up," he says with a casual tone, though there's a hint of impatience underneath. Without wasting a second, I scarf down the food in front of me, not really tasting it but focusing on the task of keeping him satisfied. I know better than to drag this out. "We're going somewhere after this," he adds, his gaze still locked on me, making it clear he's expecting me to follow without hesitation.
I only nod my head, still concentrating on the food in front of me. "Aren't you gonna ask, where we're going?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised that I haven't spoken up.

After swallowing the dry, burnt toast, I shrug. "Wouldn't that spoil the fun?"
His eyes darken in response, and the corners of his lips twist into a grin that stretches his scars even wider. "The whole time we've known each other,Ari-ah," he says, his voice suddenly softer, almost like a compliment, "that was by far the best question you've asked."

I quickly look down at my plate and inwardly curse Joker that my hair can no longer hide my face so easily, because a slight smile now plays around my lips, which I refuse to show him.

After we finish eating, Joker stands up and pulls me out of my chair, his fingers digging into my skin as he guides me toward the a word, he gestures to the passenger seat. "Since my boys aren't around to keep an eye on you, -you kid" he says, his voice tinged with something darker, "have the honor of calling shotgun." I climb inside the van, strapping myself in quickly.
Whatever he wanted me to do, I'll do it. Just to avoid the suffocating, horrible room. Anything to keep him content, to keep him from turning that cruel smile on me again.

To my surprise, he didn't tie me up this time, but just blindfolded me with his tie. I force myself to stay still, not wanting to draw attention. The only sensation I have is the bright light that seeps through the fabric, and the steady hum of the engine starting. I hear Joker's voice as he starts the car, and the van lurches forward, the speed of the drive already unsettling.

I can feel the sudden acceleration, the way the van presses me back into my seat as Joker takes off. I have no idea how fast he's going, but knowing Joker by now, the word'speed limit'is just a recomandation for him.
The way we swerves through traffic, ignoring every rule, sends a strange thrill through me.It's reckless. Dangerous. Exactly like him.I quickly lower my head to hide the first real smile in captivity from my tormentor. The way Joker drives, the adrenaline pulsing through my veins. The danger of not being able to see and knowing enough that he would drive into something just for the fun of it, strangley makes me feel ... alive.

I can feel Joker's hand sliding across the console, and the speakers erupt with the raw sound of"Riot"by Three Days Grace. The heavy guitar riffs and pounding drums fill the van, drowning out everything else.

It's a bizarre feeling. The chaos of the music seems to match the chaos of the situation—loud, relentless, almost like a mirror to my mind. And as the song plays, I realize that for all the fear and pain Joker has brought into my life, this is the first moment in captivity that I don't feel completely scared.

When we finally arrive, Joker unbuckles my seatbelt before taking my blindfold off. The first thing I notice is another warehouse. "Where are -?"

"Shhh. Don't want to spoil the fun, now, do you?" His voice is playful, but it has that underlying sharpness I've come to fear. He pushes gently against my lower back, urging me forward toward the back door of the warehouse.

Just as I reach for the handle, he grabs my wirst, his chest pressing against my back. I freeze, the warmth of his breath brushing against my ear. "Remember your promise?" he whispers, his tone dangerously soft.

I immediately nod, my voice small and obedient. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Be a good girl for me, if you don't want arepeat-ahof our last playdate." The threat hangs heavy in the air, and I can feel my heart race. The idea of another week in that hellish room is more than I can bear. He turns me around sharply to face him, his eyes searching mine. I swallow hard and meet his gaze.
"I promise," I say quietly, my voice firm because I know I have no other choice.

He smiles and pulls me into a side hug, before shoving me through the door. Darkness envelops the room, and I wince as Joker slams the heavy door behind us. He grabs my arm and pulls me forward through the cold, dimly lit space. My thoughts swirl in confusion, but I keep my mouth shut, knowing better than to ask questions now.

The sound of another door opening breaks the stillness. Joker's voice fills the silence with a cold, calculating edge as his eyes scan the room. The first thing I notice is the meat. It's everywhere. Hanging from hooks. Packaged. It's grotesque, and the smell hits me almost immediately, sour and sharp.

My heart skips a beat when I hear the click of weapons. The sound startles me, and I take a small step back, bumping into Joker's chest.

"Oh God, boss! It's you! We thought it was the cops-" James's voice trembles as he laughs nervously. Joker doesn't seem amused, though.

"Do I looklike-ahcop to you?" he snaps, the sarcasm dripping from his words.

"No- No, Sir!" James quickly replies, shrinking back.

"Shut up!" Joker growls, turning to Henry, his expression shifting to annoyance. "So, where are Romeo and Juliet?" Henry points toward another door, his head jerking in that direction.

"Ari-ah?" Joker's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look up, startled. "Yes, Sir?"

He smirks, his gaze cold and calculating. "Be a good girl and open that door for Mr. J, would you?" I nod quickly, not wanting to waste any time, and limp toward the door. My leg aches with every step, but I do my best to ignore the pain. Joker had bandaged my thigh after the shower, but I hadn't dared to look at the injury closely. I just knew I couldn't put full weight on my right leg. With a grunt, I push against the cold door. It creaks open, and as soon as it does, Joker pulls me inside with him.

The room is freezing cold, and my breath catches in the chill. The sharp, metallic tang in the air makes me gag, but I fight it back. The weight of the situation bears down on me again, and I can't help but wonder what kind of twisted game Joker is playing now.

I don't have time to think about it long, because Joker is already moving toward two figures in the center of the room. They're bound together, helpless and pleading through their gags. My heart drops as I realize who they are. The woman looks so familiar—then it hits me.
'It's Vicki Vale.'

But that's not what makes my breath catch in my throat.

The man beside her is dressed all in black, his body clad in tactical gear, and his face hidden behind a mask with pointed ears.
"Batman?!" I blink in disbelief, my mind struggling to piece it together. So this is the vigilante everyone talks about? This is the guy who's supposed to save Gotham? This is the Dark Knight?
He looks nothing like I imagined. But seriously how good could he be, if Joker was able to catch himTHATeasily?

I stand frozen for a few moments, my thoughts spinning, but the cold reality of the situation sinks in fast. Whatever Joker had planned for them, they wouldn't get out of here alive.

"Ari-ah. Ari-ah?!"Joker's voice yanks me back to reality. I snap my head up to meet his gaze, but his eyes are hard, demanding. He reaches into the inside of his coat, and for a split second, I'm sure he's pulling out another knife, maybe something worse. My breath hitches, but then he pulls out something unexpected—a camera.

"I need you, kid," he says, his tone uncharacteristically serious as he presses the camera into my hands. "To assist me today."

I just nod, slowly setting the camera up like he instructed. Joker lifts the camera to his height, forcing me to stand on my toes. "Are you going to tell me when-"

"ACTION!"

*A/N: Hello Guys and Happy Valentines Day! :)

We got a glimpse of what poor Aria had to endure, but what else does Joker have in store for her? Are we going to see more of the torture that Joker has put her through?
The hair scene was a great inspiration from Pretty Little Liars when the girls were all held captive by -A and I just couldn't help but include it.
So Aria has worked her way up as Joker's camerawoman, but can she keep her promise or have Jokers games just begun?
Stay tuned to find out.*