Monsters

PHEW! I only just finished this chapter so if it's a bit sloppy in places I apologise - I didn't want to stop writing cuz I wanted the whole thing to be rather break-neck pace hehe. This is quite a long chapter so I hope you liiiike :D.
Thought I should write some quick responses to ppl since reviewers have been soooo absolutely lovely.
Kisaki : Thanks for one of the loveliest reviews I've ever had, it made me so happy! I really appreciated the critique as well, because when I looked back at it I would have to agree, it didn't quite work.
rosen_rot_ : I come bearing more chapters! BEHOLD!
moominsrus : Thank you so much, glad you like it :D.
Harlequin : I shall read your story because I don't believe for a SECOND that it is shit! Thanks so much for your comments though.
Ero-Sennin : Thanks so much for all your flattery *feels smug*. My dissertation was on the eroticized suffering of women in European theatre, hehe. Heavy stuff I know. My boyf. was a tad vanilla too, once *evil laughter*. P.S. I LOVED your 'JUST STICK IT IN' comment, made me howl laughing!
jokerfan25: Thank youuuu, I hope to continue to entertain!
AniSparrow: YAY glad you're still reading, hope it's not disappointing!
Suzume: Awww thank you so much!

AAaanyway, I should put this up and stop tarting about. ENJOY :D!

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She did not remember getting back to areas of the Narrows that she recognised, any more than she remembered ending up on Sam’s street. The only thing that told her she was there was the violent jarring of her boots hitting the floor, and the thin unsteady echo of her breathing in her ears. Her mind was linked to her only by the most tenuous of strings, and the world in front of her was a black and white fake of reality which had nothing to do with her.

She saw people and she saw faces and she knew that none of this, none of it, was anything to do with her. And it never would be. The stares she offered up had nothing to do with hostility as she skimmed past homeless people, the wary passers-by, the drug dealers. She could not muster fear or sensibility, only a mild confusion as they trickled past the peripheries of her reality. These people were not.... Hostility bristled around her blank stares, as she looked at people who were not used to being stared at. It was a miracle that she was not attacked, a miracle that she did not notice, did not care. Muscles that were ever primed for violence were obsolete because they were not a part of this distant world that her vision was dragging through. It was as if her mind was watching what she had returned to in disbelief, refusing to take the reins as her body kept moving.

She found the sound of her own breathing reassuring, the only guarantee, the only anchorage to this life, this body that moved on instinct and weaved her through the side streets. It meant that, in some capacity at least, she was here. She felt tension give way inside her, collapsing her in on the foundations of herself. She was away, she was gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone. It’s fine. I left. It’s gone.

She repeated it like a mantra, but it was not relief she felt when the tension unfurled.

It was simply horrible, absolute emptiness. Emptiness, and the knowledge that she was lying to herself.

When she reached Sam’s corner, he wasn’t there. He always came back, he had regulars who knew where to find him. She sat against the building, freezing pavement chilling her bone-deep, and waited. Cramming her hands into her armpits, she huddled down into the coat, Derek’s coat, and burrowed her face into the warmth of it. When she lifted her drifting sleepwalking eyes up slightly, she noticed the coat was now smudged with white and red.

The confusion was brief.

‘Of course,’ she murmured flatly to herself, eyes skipping shut. ‘He’s all over me...’

Miles away, wherever he was, and she could still smell his sweat against her skin, close enough that a claustrophobic shudder coursed through her as she felt in a second his bare scarred chest against her trembling skin, his hipbones grinding in to hers.

‘All over me.....’

--

Sleep came in brief snatches, grainy incoherent images that were cut short when her head rolled forward, and she was thrown in to icy wakefulness.

*Knife to a throat, blood beading and then gushing as the cut lengthened and deepened in a slow, precise movement, skin splitting and bright flesh...*

AWAKE. Her breath was mist and a nearby sleeping tramp murmured in his sleep.

*She couldn’t hear his words and couldn’t recall his face, his eyes huge, his face a rictus of sheer terror, a strange high-pitched wailing buzzing the sound out...

‘I.... Please... I.............. A Wife.....’ *

AWAKE. The tramp was staring at her through bleary yellow eyes, and her legs were mottled grey in the cold.

*Purple, green, white, black, red. Red. He bit and tugged at her bottom lip and wrenched her hair, and growled into her mouth as he thrust his tongue deep inside. Lips and teeth and tongue trailed across her neck, nipping and sucking, claiming. It was only when he pulled away, panting, and looked at her, grinning with his arms locked around her, that she saw the outline of light, felt the heat. Then she knew they were both on fire.*

‘Sally.’

It felt like a physical wrench as she pulled herself out of sleep, eyes sticky and aching, neck stiff as she looked up. Sam swam in and out of focus as she blinked.
‘Sally, Jesus Christ are you ok? I thought you were dead there – dumb bitch sitting straight on the freezing cold ground – what are you doing here?’

He took her arm and pulled her upright carefully as her frozen limbs refused to support her, muscles locked. When she said nothing he peered down into her face, concern starting to set in. ‘Are you ok? Sal?’ he asked, keeping his grip on her arm, trying to make her focus.

Her breath shuddered out, and he was not enough to defrost her.

‘Sally? I haven’t seen you for a few weeks, then you come and play zombie at me. Did you hook up with some John for a while?’

She convulsed in impulsive laughter, bilious and violent, and looked at him finally with her eyes sharp in disbelief. Silent hysterical heaves of laughter began shaking her, and stopped just as swiftly.

‘Yeah.... yeah I guess I did.’ She mumbled, shaking her head. None of it was clean, none of it was clear, and she was feeling an ache inside her that stung amidst frozen flesh. He looked at her like he was thinking of saying something and stopped himself. ‘You’re freezing. C’mon, you need some warmer clothes.’

‘No... No, we need to find a place, we need to get inside.’ She managed, numb fingers digging in to his shoulder as he tried to steer her forwards. When he applied pressure again she shoved him away, surprising him with her vicious strength, limping stiff-legged over to the tramp. She caught up his half empty bottle of whisky and chugged big gulping mouthfuls down. Bitter liquid fire coursed through her, familiar, comforting. She didn’t want to look at Sam, but finally hit him with a level stare.

‘Sal, you’re scaring me.’ He said slowly, cautiously. She spat out laughter, surging round to grab hold of him. He tried to back away, had never seen the solid glittering stare that met him now when Sally looked at him.

‘No, you... you shouldn’t be scared yet. Not YET. You need to get me inside. If I stay outside, I, will, HURT someone.’.

She clipped out each word with biting distinction, letting him feel the intent of her gaze.

- - -

Sam had got a change of clothes for her from a scam artist who worked in a tattoo parlour on his street, and they had slept on her sofa. The woman made it clear they were not welcome a second night, and they spent the next cold morning trailing round every dingy place they knew, calling out every favour they had, for somewhere to stay. Sally said nothing, and she knew in truth that Sam did not know what to say to her. He had only ever seen the edges of her, she had made sure of that – she had known that this was all he was capable of seeing. Eventually the best they were offered was info., about an empty flat they could break in to.

‘Just like old times.’ She said dully, wrapping Derek’s coat closer. It was the only bit of her old clothes she had retained. Sam grimly gave a noise of laughter as they continued through the bleak, cramped alleyways where all the remains of Gotham city lurked –garbage, human and refuse alike, occupied these streets. She felt him inhale to ask something, felt him hold it. His nervousness tickled over her skin and fell away from it like water over silk.

‘Sal.... when that guy came over to us and thanked you.... The big guy.... What did he mean?’

Her eyes shone lacklustre and she felt her mouth twitch, amusement trickling through her like a violent twitch. ‘He meant thank you. Maybe I gave him a few thrusts. Why do you ask?’ she replied ambiguously, continuing on, staring steadily at a crackhead shooting up who gave her a death glare.

‘I... just heard he got let out... by... y’know....’

It felt like so long, since so many words had been so jumbled, so pointless, so weak. In so many weeks, she had not had to deal with such hesitation. Everything had been an absolute. She turned and faced him, feeling a part of her stomach lurch as punishment even as she said the words.

‘By the Joker.’

He didn’t reply but instead faced her, looking at the ground and scuffing his shoes. She stared back and saw every familiar contour of his face, the surly pout, the hazel eyes. He was a context, a part of this world which she had lived in all her life, and nonetheless felt like she never had done.

She said nothing else, merely nodding towards the side door they had been told about.

‘You should be able to get through that. Even if you are a pretty boy.’ She said drily, turning and wandering away into a nearby alley, closed over almost completely by overhanging washing lines. Darkness shrouded her and she leant against a wall in the dripping silence, focusing simply on the slamming noise of Derek’s shoulder meeting the door, and her heartbeat. Impact, and heartbeat. Impact, and heartbeat. It was all she needed to keep going for now.

The scuff of footsteps ruined everything.

Some kind of inevitable, keen pain shot through her insides, as she reluctantly dragged her eyes to the end of the alleyway.

It was a silhouette initially, limping towards her. But she recognised it soon enough, the straggly hair, the hunched shoulders. And now came the relief, and only now, and the world refocused. A stupid relief, she knew, because if he had come looking for her it probably meant he wanted to kill her. As he got closer she saw black stains in the darkness, smattering his clothes. She could not bring herself to move until she realised what these black stains were, and then she straightened and looked him in the eye. Injuries did not change the madness in his expression, if anything it heightened it. He was looking at her like a rabid hyena. He tilted his head and pursed his lips in a perverse greeting, continuing to casually limp towards her. How had he found her?

‘You missed out on one Hell of a party last night Sal. It would have really been.... your kinda thiiiing....’

The bank job. Of course. ‘You’re bleeding.’ The obsolete statement sounded bizarrely calm.

He looked down at himself in utter disinterest, wobbling as he dismissed it with the flick of a hand. ‘A few complications make things more exciting, don’t you think?’

‘I don’t...’

‘Now I think I need to make it, absolutely, categorically clear what sort of game we’re playing. I’ve given you more opportunities than most, and you just, don’t, seem to be getting it.’

She eyed the entrance to the alleyway behind him, and his grin widened as he followed her gaze before shaking his head.
‘Nope. Bad idea.’

Her body had only feinted forwards before he was smashing in to her. She didn’t know if it was intention or blood loss, but the end result was them both crashing to the floor in a clumsy pile, his hands fumbling and finally grasping her violent fists, holding them secure against her chest. Her heart started up again like it hadn’t since she had run away from him and she remembered what it felt like, feeling alive. Her skull hit the floor and he was so close his features were blurred, only the black and white of his eyes remaining clear. His voice was fast and intense and his grip on her wrists, smearing blood across her skin, made bone grind against bone.

‘Somewhere in that little skull of yours you like to think that you are in some way, redeemable. A happy ever after, a normal life, all of that.... shit-uh. But what you see, and what you KNOW, is that that’s not possible for you. You need to see, LOOK at me, you need to see that you are still playing, by theeiiiir rules, hmm? Rules that tell you that you NEED a happy ending, that you need to be redeemed. You know you don’t need those things, not really...’

He could see far too deep in to her, and she felt herself struggle to speak around the choking up sensation in her throat. ‘....You’re bleeding everywhere. You’re really hurt.’

‘Don’t change the subject. One of these days you are going to realise that this world, has nothing, for you. It doesn’t, not for people like you and me.’

She couldn’t get away from that look, those eyes that penetrated, ripped open and exposed her. She twisted like a worm on a hook, but he kept her pinned in place easily, his eyes chasing her attempts to look away.

‘...You need to... go to a doctor, a Narrows one. You’ll die.’

Her voice was barely more than a sob, and his facial expression became taunting, chillingly sweet.

‘Awwww, is Sawwy wowwied about her clown? Or are you just worried about me spilling blood all over your nice new clothes? Funny that, you having new clothes, who gave them to you?’

She was not expecting such a question, balking in complete confusion.

‘I...’

‘WHO. GAVE. YOU NEW CLOTHES?’

She was momentarily stunned in to silence by the vicious roar, deafening her. She could not even begin to fathom why he would want to know, and then it became all too clear – he liked her being marked out as his. More than that, anyone who helped her was someone she could turn to, that wasn’t him. A staggering comprehension blossomed in her mind, that this was the reason that Derek was now dead. He didn’t want her to have any other option than him in her life.

The lie felt safe, because without the lie she did not know what she would say, what she would DO.

‘I don’t give a fuck if you’re bleeding to death. Just get off me.’ It came out sounding cold enough, harsh enough, and for a second she almost believed it worked.

He gave her a long, deliberating stare, long enough that she knew violence was imminent. Slowly he frowned in speculation.

‘Did you know that... you chew, the inside of your upper lip, when you lie to me? It’s quite.... fascinating to watch.’ He ground his hips down against hers and she tried to squirm down into the concrete rather than feel her reaction to it. An exhalation escaped her lips and his eyes drank it up, her parted lips, her resistance.

‘Otherwise I’m sure I would have believed you.’ he said reassuringly before slanting his mouth over hers and brutally claiming her lips in a kiss that was almost desperate it was so aggressive.

Her heart swelled and she could taste blood, could feel its warm dampness sticking his shirtfront to her, and she knew she had to struggle now or not be able to struggle at all. Desperation overcame her as his taste flooded her mouth and escaping again became the only option.

Her punch to his kidneys was brutal and fast, and she scrambled out from beneath him frantically before plastering herself to the wall. His discomfort was short-lived, the wheezing laugh he gave having nothing to do with humour as he wrenched a knife from his pocket and stabbed it into the ground, wrenching it out and staggering upright.

‘If you’re not going to play along this is going to be over very quickly, and very unpleasantly for you.’ He commented, eyes deadly serious as he flicked the knife up and down whilst approaching her. She wrenched her knife from her boot and moved slowly sideways, skittering along the wall like a spider.

‘I’m sure I can hold my own.’ She retorted, barely even thinking about it as she watched his knife gleam, his colourless eyes glitter. The stinging ache in her surged and was sewn up again so swiftly she only felt the aftershock of it, trembling her from the inside.

What am I doing?

‘Oooooooooooh, Sally....’ he groaned, his tone so filthy it made her feel feverishly hot. ‘I really don’t think you could. The things I could do to you, with this knife. Want me to show you?’

It was the promise of the fuck of a lifetime and a death threat all at once, and she didn’t care which it was more. There was darkness down where she was falling, nothing but black as thick and tight as smoke.


‘Sally?’

The voice was unbearably intrusive, and she saw a muscle in Joker’s face twitch.

‘Oh.... Is this your other boyfriend, Sally?’ he coolly gritted out, the teasing belying the violence beneath.

‘Sally are you ok?’ A click of footsteps and her arm shot out warningly.

‘DON’T! .... I’m fine, I’m fine just DON’T come down here Sam.’ She yelled, grateful of the concealing dark.

Her attention shot back to Joker.
‘You need to go.’ She hissed out.

His eyebrows rose, and blood dripped on to the rain-spattered street. She had never seen a man who was so absolutely still emanating such sadism.

‘For FUCK’S SAKE, you need a doctor! Police are everywhere in The Narrows, you CAN’T stay here!’.

His face swarmed across her vision, a perfect abhorrence as he smiled.
‘See? I knew you cared.’

She remained clamped, frozen still and barren of all answers. His expression was already casually indifferent again, someone who had won. Had he come all of this way, in his state, just to see if she was worried about him?

He smirked, and loped off into the darkness. ‘Watch the News. Make suuuuure you watch the News.’

....

She stumbled out of the black and even in the dull daylight Sam seemed too bright to bear. Her chest resonated with relentless hurtful heartbeats, and adrenaline crammed her ears with cotton as she tried to walk past him.

‘Sally?’ his voice was a subdued hum, she was hearing him through water.
‘Sal, you look awful. What the fuck is going on?’

‘Get away from me.’ She murmured, tracking her wobbling footsteps, not looking at him.

‘Sal...’

‘I said GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!’ she screamed savagely, her voice echoing in the silence as she threw him off her into the nearest wall. She paced back and forth briefly, running her hands through her hair, feeling the world slide like liquid on glass around her.

‘Sally please, I’m worried about you....’

‘Don’t bother. I’m... Keep away from me. Forget what I said, and keep away from me. Be safe, live long, and never talk to me again.’ She spat, gesticulating viciously as she marched into the nearest street which offered her easy access to The Narrows.

She instinctively followed the breeze, scent and sound that came from the river, breathing out when she hit main streets. The cold was an exhilarating hurt as she kept moving, made distance, tried to find a mind, or even a thought, worth saving. His words were the only mantra now, the only thing that clung inside her head. She was not redeemable. She was NOT going to be saved. And she had never wanted to be.
Blood pumped, wind blew, and head spoke of knives and hurt and screaming and skinning and....

‘Hey beautiful.’

She stopped. And turned.

‘Looking for a place to be?’

She climbed inside the car and let the flash flood come.

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They pulled up at a sleazy hotel, and she wasn’t surprised. Rich boys didn’t want to keep their status on anything but low-profile when they picked her up. Her vision spat yellow and fizzing lights buzzed her hearing as they went up the stairs, and he opened the door. She had not heard a word he had said since he had picked her up, although he had been talking plenty.

He fluffed the pillows.

‘Business much.... like it sometimes.....’

The nape of his neck briefly fascinated her before the itching roiling depth continued. She kicked the door closed as he checked the bathroom for towels. His eyes were blue.

‘Ok baby, so let’s do this, I’ve got uhhh... I got condoms, I got a few...’

‘You won’t need them.’

His eyebrow arched in the beginnings of pleased surprise.

‘You ever been stabbed?’ she asked flatly, looking around the room, taking in the bed, side tables, the lamp.

He gave a snort of laughter, looking confused. ‘I uhhh... no, whu- uhhh, why do you ask?’

She didn’t say anything, and simply looked. It was only a few agonisingly stretched minutes before alarm started showing in his eyes. The turbulent feeling inside her bubbled and spat at this reaction, swelled within her chest.

Ridiculous laughter came out of her throat like an explosion, convulsing her whole upper body. It was the only thing that made sense, and once she had started she couldn’t quite stop. She wrenched the knife from her boot, trying to contain herself. ‘Ooo... Ok..... Let’s forego the bullshit preamble.’

She sobered abruptly as she saw the fear intensify on his face.

‘Let’s get on with this.’

He took a few staggering skittering steps to separate himself from her with the bed, and she followed him into the room, taking her position on the other side of the bed. Each nervous feint he gave in either direction she mirrored, eyes trained on his movements. Adrenaline started burning like battery acid in her veins. This was familiar. This was GOOD, but never this slow, with this much opportunity for them to fight back. It was delicious agony, and that hysterical laughter threatened to break out again as he tried to feint round the bed again.

‘Ah. Tricky tricky boy.’ She cautioned, waving the knife at him warningly.

And then he made his break for it. He was past her and had got the door open two inches before she dug the knife in and up under his right armpit, twisting it as blood seeped down over her fisted hand. He let out a yell of fear and pain and she kicked the door shut as she used the knife as leverage to force him back into the room, feeling muscle and flesh tear. He fell on to his back on the floor and she wrenched the knife free before it went with him, a splatter of blood hitting the bedclothes. He struggled back on his tailbone, trying to right himself, and she delivered a lashing kick to his chin that split his lip and gum, sending a glut of blood across his face. Eyes glazed with shock, he slumped backwards, but it wasn’t enough to knock him out, and she followed him down and pinned him underneath her knees. As she began to stab it wasn’t frenzied, simply sustained. He screamed and she forced her left forearm into his mouth, feeling his teeth biting in like a dull distant pain as the knife sank through under his collarbone, and again and again into his chest and neck.

He fell limp after a few minutes, and his teeth around her arm went slack. She groped for his wrist as her breathing struggled to level, and felt no pulse. Her hands were shaking and her blood was buzzing, and she sagged briefly against his body, removing her forearm from his mouth. Calm now, she rolled the sleeve of the jacket up and saw vivid teeth marks, even through the heavy material of the coat, were beginning to flush red in to her skin.

She got up. She absentmindedly dumped towels along the doorjam, although the old carpet was soaking up the majority of the blood, and went into the bathroom. This was familiar routine, the tedium afterwards. And yet it felt less somehow. She was indifferent to the fingerprints she had left, the body that could be connected to her so easily. The fizzing still coursed through her veins, and yet she still felt empty. Frustration began to pollute the blissful, tickly calm she was feeling, as she washed the knife and her hands. After she had washed the blood from her face and neck, scouring the more obvious marks on her thankfully dark clothes, she wandered back into the bedroom, not sparing the body another glance. It felt so quiet and still now.

A feeling lanced through her, strong enough that she sat abruptly down on the bed and hugged her arms around herself. It happened again, a keen pain that scoured her insides, and she buckled slightly under it. What began as an incredulous laugh, quiet and under her breath, began to rack her entire body. When the feeling came again, it was as though something in her mind had relented entirely. Dry heaving sobs shuddered through her and tears started streaming down her face until she was howling and crying, digging her nails into her shoulders for anchorage.

...

It was an hour later when she had pulled herself together, and had turned on the News as she readied herself to leave. The despair that had hit her so hard clung on the edges of her thoughts, but even this was not an excuse for the absolute disinterest she had in escaping the murder scene quickly. She bounced on the bed idly as she slipped the knife back in to her boot, tying a towel around her bitten arm and putting her coat back on.
‘.... Police were informed midday yesterday of the Joker’s impending robbery. You may find the images you are about to see disturbing.’
She sank down on to her knees on the bed and watched, mesmerised. Hostages hung from an open upper story window, each person’s wrists and throats lassoed with rope. Every time the man at the top of the sick chain gang attempted to pull himself back in to the window, those further down the line began to choke as the added tension to the line tightened their bonds.

‘Batman’s arrival diverted the police officer’s attention long enough for Joker to escape heavily wounded. Both Batman and Joker remain on the loose.’

The unsteady camera panned down to ground level, across glittering broken glass, and her heart dropped out of her stomach.

Written in gasoline across the ground in six foot high messy scrawl, the flames burnt virulently, smoke coursing up and blurring the camera shot.

“SALLY.”

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YAY! Hope you like it - fear not there will be both gore and sexiness soon enough, whichever is your preference :D. RnR pleaaase!!