Monsters

Whoops, thought I'd added this, clearly hadn't! I'm putting everything I've got so far on here cause I wont' be able to add to it for a while. Reviews and constructive criticism are really appreciated :)



_______________________________________________________________________



She had been lost in a sickly quiet calm as the blood dried on her skin, tightening it like leather. But as soon as the Joker had spoken she found her nerves awake once more, tingling like taut wires. She did not move, did not lift her head, as she followed his slight limp in to the room through her hair. He was slowly peering through the bodies, kicking over one of the other whores and crouching down to inspect her wounds.

‘See, now this is good work.’ He said, and a shudder ran uncontrollably through Sally as she realised he was looking directly at her. She was shaking and she couldn’t stop it, even as she couldn’t imagine moving. Dimly she remembered that she still had the knife in her hand, and she clung to it desperately. In one smooth movement he straightened and moved sharply towards her. Sally launched backwards away from him, scuttling away on her haunches whilst waving the knife in front of her. He squinted his eyes at her as if perplexed for a minute, gaze raking up and down her, before kneeling down next to the man she had just been straddling. ‘Oh, I see you hamstringed this one first, well this is just..... exciting!’ he hissed, standing and clapping his hands together for emphasis as a broad grin fell across his marred mouth. “Nothing like a little amateur enthusiasm.’



She was astounded by how quickly he picked up on her reaction, the recoil of her shoulders.



‘Oh. But you’re not an amateur are you? Not completely.’ The bodies had now lost all interest to him and that gleaming stare was focused entirely on her as he began circling her, getting closer.

‘You’re more than that, more than these stupid little men fancied you to be, hmmm, more than just a hooker, a pretty bit of flesh? You’re a killer, aren’t you sweetheart?’ He allowed the words to sit in the air, savouring them in his mouth, waiting for her to deny them. That twitch, that lick of the lips, as though he was still getting accustomed to the taste of those scars inside his mouth, unsettled Sally almost as much as his words. She scuttled further back, always holding the knife out in front of her, and managed to clamber upright, eyes wild.



‘You see..... Women, generally speaking of course.... Aren’t as fast to take up a knife, and use it. And certainly,’ he began laughing slightly, leaning forward as if speaking confidentially ‘Not as vig-orously as you. Who was your first, hmm?’ he asked eagerly, coming closer. What terrified Sally more than anything else that had happened this night, more than all of it, was how excited he seemed.



‘Hmmm? Feeling shy? ...Let me guess, a client doesn’t take no for an answer – he wants something you don’t offer. He does some downright, hideous things to you. And while you’re lying there, covered in blood and his fluid, you see a knife. How am I doing here princess?’



She convulsed in something that almost felt like a sob, but no tears were coming out.



‘You must have felt so annoyed with yourself, when you saw how.... eaaaasy it was. Thinking of all the men you’d ploughed through, when all you ever needed to do was pick up a knife. You must have been fucked in ways I can’t even think of.’ he continued, his tone almost baffled, child-like.

Subtleties in thinking had abandoned her the moment she had first seen him but she realised one thing: he was mocking her.



If she was fast in bringing her knife up, he was faster. A blade appeared in his hand and was idly tapping her cheek before she could blink. Her skin prickled. She could feel just how sharp the blade was; every inch of her skin was screaming. His other hand stretched out and twisted her wrist almost to breaking point, and she finally gave up the knife with a gasp of pain. She cast her eyes down, away, avoiding the knife that chased her gaze, pressed up against her cheek, knowing any move could illicit a cut with a knife that sharp. Her neck was rigid with the effort of keeping still.



‘Gotham really is the best city in the world. First it gives me the Batman, and now you!’ he exclaimed, giving her wrist another strong twist as leverage to drag her forward, causing her to let out a strangled noise of pain. She felt the knife biting in, a cut across her jaw line.



‘No.’

He blinked. She blinked. Hearing her own voice hit her full force into the real world again, from the backseat of her mind where she had been trying to escape.

‘No?’ he growled, his tone incredulous as he stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his hot breath colliding with her face. Then she made the mistake of looking at him. She found her eyes trawling his face against her will, taking in every paint-smeared contour. The lattice-like scars that hooked up from his lips to his cheeks were coated with red lipstick, mimicking the blood that must have once poured from them. His eyes followed hers, glowing with a dull virulence.



‘I’m, I’m not... like YOU.’ She choked, the words exploding out of her. She couldn’t breathe, her heart was killing her via fear, and she couldn’t look away from him. She was locked into those eyes, dark and bottomless and she saw worlds and history disappearing as blood and sinew overtook all else. She felt her vision tilt abruptly as blood pounded through her ears – nothing in her life had ever felt like this.



‘Like me? Not yet sweetheart. But we can work on that. Even if you have a far... prettier mouth than mine.’ His eyes focused on her mouth briefly as he licked his lips, and her stomach clenched in fear, adrenaline, fire, she didn’t know what. She couldn’t feel a terror this complete, this huge, for this long. She felt like she was disappearing into herself, where men held her down and pain soured, and hunger clawed like a dog at her insides.



His face was suddenly so abruptly close she could see the wet madness of his eyes. Her heart lurched and panic hit her full strength as she flailed back, but his hand had the nape of her neck in an iron grip, holding her head close. Her knees were buckling and he made mocking hushing noises as she crumpled, coming down to the floor with her. ‘Is it the face? Is it? Here.’ He offered, grabbing a discarded bottle of vodka from the floor and twisting it open one handed.



Grabbing any numbing oblivion she could get, she gripped the bottle over his gloved hand, not even caring in that second about willingly touching him, and chugged the vodka down. When she tried to tilt the bottle down, he held it steady, forcing more into her mouth. ‘That’s it, sssh shh sssh, good girl.’ He hissed as the alcohol spilled down her chin and over her throat. She snarled in protest and feebly tried to pull her mouth away even as he maintained his grip on her neck, tilting the bottle further so that more tumbled into her mouth. He finally relinquished his grip as her flailing got more frantic, throwing the bottle aside with a shatter.



Sally collapsed forward on to her hands, spluttering and coughing, everything spinning. She felt him grip her shoulder and then she was on her back, swallowing back the urge to be sick, attempting to focus. She tried to struggle when she felt his weight descend on her, only to have her arms swatted away and pinned above her head. She knew this feeling, and she could not defend herself like this. Drink was the remedy from the soaring howling noises inside her that came every time she killed. And he had just known.



He licked the vodka away from her throat before holding her head still, forcing her to focus ‘LOOK, at me. I can imagine the things that have been done to you. You can’t inflict pain without knowing a little bit about it yourself. And I do. These, scars, for example...’

His gloved hand skimmed her chest, and her released hand bulleted into his nose two seconds later. He grunted and recoiled only slightly with a wince, blood dripping from his nose as he began giggling. ‘Oh you are just, too perfect.’ He laughed in that high-pitched laugh, slamming her head back into the ground once with brutal force. That was when her vision gave out altogether, although she could still hear for long enough to notice the police sirens, and hear his departing whisper, his lips lingering over her ear.





‘Time to raise your game, beautiful.’









______________________________________________________________________



HuzZah, lil' bit of violence, lil' bit of sexiness (I hope). RnR's much loved! XXX