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Living in Darkness- HIATUS/editing ch 19-25	By : Meursault Category: DC Verse Movies > The Dark Knight Views: 9298 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, nor any of the characters from it. I have not and will not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters are fiction. Story is set after the Dark Knight movie by Christopher Nolan.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter Sixteen
My side hurts too much to climb into bed, so I lie on the ground and sooner or later fall asleep. When I awake, it’s impossible to figure out how many hours have passed due to the lack of windows. I’ll have to ask for a clock. Stretching my stiff form, I wince at the pain that still throbs through my body and face. I carefully stand up and go into the bathroom- which is a pristine white-tiled wonder- and tenderly wash my face off with a cloth.
Some of the skin on my cheek is broken with raw flesh peeping through. It stings horribly as I pat it dry. Even though it won’t scar too badly, the thought of it being right on my face in plain sight doesn’t make me happy. And at the moment, the peeling, oozing scrape of skin could only be called ugly. I dab some Neosporin on it and then wash off the smaller cuts on my abdomen and knuckles. Returning to the bedroom, I begin to unpack all the random stuff I brought with me from the house.
I know I provoked the fight, but I couldn’t help myself. After he went on about killing and raping me, about how I was basically nothing more than a disposable object, I wanted nothing more than to hurt him. I’m not use to being screamed at, or having my self-esteem lowered by anyone but myself.
I take the few books I brought out of my bag and put them on the glass coffee table. Luckily, the bookshelf has a few more books. It should be enough to get me through what I hope will be no more than a few days.
Too quickly, I finish unpacking. A few things lay scattered around; my clothes are shoved into the wardrobe and the bathroom things are, well, in the bathroom. I should have brought some of my art supplies, but the Joker still doesn’t know about the mural I’m painting. Usually when I was bored in college, I would lose myself in the internet for awhile. Maybe I can convince the Joker to give me a computer… It was worth a shot. I make a mental list: computer, clock.
Walking over to the door, I try the handle but it doesn’t budge. Surprise, surprise. Unfortunately, the only windows I could break are boarded up. I am utterly alone and trapped in this stupid room. Flopping down on to the bed, I let out a heavy sigh. I could easily fall asleep again, but don’t want to. I could read, but don’t feel like it. I drum my fingers against my leg. Might as well do something productive.
I ease up and return the window, drawing back the blinds to examine the wooden boards more carefully. The paneling is well placed and nailed to the wall in multiple places. I tug at the edge of the board, but can’t move it at all. There has to be some way to remove it. I pace around the room for awhile, looking for something that could break a wooden board. Shower curtain pole? Part of the bed frame? That’s all I can come up with.
I let out another heavy sigh. “Fuck,” I mutter.Looks like I’m really trapped. The door would probably be the best escape route; I just need to figure out how to break the lock.
I go to the door once again and jiggle the handle. It seems to be bolted with a normal lock, which means it shouldn’t take too much skill to break, right? Just then, I see the dead bolt slide away and the door opens.
I stumble back to avoid being hit in the face as the Joker comes in. He eyes me curiously as obvious surprise is painted across my face.
“Hi…” I say awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”
The Joker looks at the door and then smiles nastily at me. “You were taking a crack at breaking out, weren’t you? I guess I would be disappointed if you didn’t; it would be sooo unlike you.” He walks around the room and then sits himself on the bed.
“In that case, there’s no reason to get mad at me for trying, right?” I offer hopefully.
The Joker bursts out laughing. “HaHa! Hahahaha…(cough) I’m not mad at you. It’s not like you’re going to succeed or anything. Besides, it’s only natural for the human species to attempt to survive.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! Why did you get mad the other times then?”
The Joker eyes me with pity, making me feel stupid for even asking the question. “Because unfortunately, it is possible to escape the other house. Because you’re so…unruly, the only way to keep you there is through threats. Here however, here you have no chance.” The Joker crosses his legs. “Besides,” he adds, “you shouldn’t try to escape-you don’t want to miss the next few days. Exciting stuff’s about to happen, even you might have fun!”
I frown and cross my arms. “Your sense of ‘fun’ is sadistic. You make it sound like you’re going to hurt people.”
“Am I?” the Joker’s eyes widen mockingly, slapping his knee. “Oh, I’m sorry! You must have misunderstood me. I don’t want to hurt people, I want to have them uh, hurt each other. I want all those ordinary idiots to know how great it feels to break a person’s neck and have them go limp in your arms.”
“Shut up,” I snap, disgusted, and turn away from him to examine the already much looked-through bookshelf.
“Elena…” the Joker sings. “Elena, you know I won’t kill you, not now at least. What would I use to entertain myself with? No, no, you’ll live through the week. However, what happens afterwards is up to you. If I end up having to kill you, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself…as per usual.”
“You can leave now,” I say with a sneer, turning back to face him. “You’re presence isn’t welcomed here.”
“Oh please, don’t pretend you weren’t bored out of your mind for the last six hours. You’re ecstatic I’m finally back.”
“Leave!” I demand, pointing to the door. “Just leave. Go cause mayhem or do whatever the fuck you’re here to do.”
The Joker bounces lightly up and down on the bed. “It would be wise of you to shut your pretty little mouth,” he informs me. “You don’t have the authority to demand me about. Besides, this is my room too.”
“Fine, I’m going then.”
He sneers, “Going where?”
“To…to the restroom. I’ll be in there ‘til you leave.” I say, stomping off. I go to lock the bathroom door and find there is none. Wheeling back around, I face the Joker. “Why is there no lock on this door?” I huff.
“You really think I’d let you have a lock after you tried to cut open your arms the other day?” the Joker asks incredulously.
I make a face and we stand- well I stand, he’s still on the bed- looking at each other. It soon becomes an awkward staring contest. Finally, the Joker blinks away and skims his eyes over my body. “I don’t like your shirt,” he declares out of nowhere.
“What?”
“I don’t like your shirt.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. You buy all my clothes. I don’t really have a choice,” I counter.
The Joker calmly flips open a knife, stands, and advances towards me.
“Stop, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I instantly apologize, despite not having a reason. He makes no sign he’s heard me and continues to approach. Quickly, I scramble away so the coffee table is between us.
“Hey, I said I’m sorry!” I reason, holding my hands out. “I don’t know why you’re pissed, but there’s no need to pull out the knife.”
The Joker slowly circles the coffee table. His green eyes pierce out from the blackness surrounding them. I cautiously mimic his circling motions so we stay the same distance apart and he can’t reach over to me. Once I have a clear path to the bathroom, I run for it. Hands entwine in my hair before I get very far and I’m yanked to the ground with terrible force. Turning, the Joker brings the knife close to my chest. “Please, don’t hurt me!” I beg. My face is still raw from this morning…or was it yesterday? I don’t want yet another injury to my body.
Suddenly, the Joker’s painted scarred mouth barks a laugh. “I’m not going to hurt you; I just want to get rid of your stupid shirt.” Holding me steady by the hair, he swiftly brings the knife down the front and back of my shirt. The rags that were previously a shirt neatly split in two and fall off my torso, exposing my navy blue bra.
“That’s better!” the Joker says, smiling, as he lets go of my knotted hair and puts away his knife.
“What the fuck!” I grouch at him as I stand and go to the wardrobe to find another shirt. “You could have said, ‘Hey, Elena. I don’t like your shirt. Since I’m a controlling freak, will you please find another one to wear?’ You didn’t have to come at me with a knife and tackle me.”
“Ooops,” the Joker says sarcastically. “My bad.” I pull out another shirt and begin to put it over my head when the Joker makes a coughing noise.
I lower the shirt. “What? Do you not like this one either?”
“I don’t like that shirt either.”
I stomp my foot like a child, completely exasperated. “Well, I don’t know what to do then! You buy all my clothes. And for the most part, they all look the same. If you want me to wear something different, then buy it.”
The Joker walks slowly towards me, staring at my exposed chest. I hurriedly tug on the shirt I’m holding, causing his eyes to snap back to my face.
“I have a uh, a good idea,” he says wickedly, “how about you just don’t wear a shirt?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, stepping away.
He imitates my movement, and raises an eyebrow, “Why?”
“Well for one, it makes me uncomfortable that you’re staring at me like I’m a piece of meat. For another, you-” I cut myself off and pause. “Wait, I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you! How about you just deal with it?”
The Joker sighs heavily. “Elena, I’ve had a hard day. The last thing I want to do is fight with you. Take off the shirt.” When I don’t make a move to obey, he flicks open his knife again. “Take off the shirt, Elena,” he repeats.
This is a small matter in the scheme of things. There’s no use fighting this when I need to save my energy for other arguments. I heave a sigh and take the shirt off, folding it, and placing it back into the wardrobe. “Happy?” I scoff.
“No, not really.” The Joker replies. “Take off your bra.”
I stifle a laugh and shake my head. “No, how about not…Why don’t you go get us some dinner, I’m hungry. Then I’ll read to you and you can tell me about your grand plan to cause chaos. Won’t that be fun?” There was no hope he would actually agree to that, but I had to try.
“Nah, I’m not hungry. Take off your bra or I’m going to do it for you,” he says bluntly.
I can tell the Joker’s starting to get annoyed, he’s done playing our little cat-and-mouse game. But I’m not. I pick up one of the books on the coffee table and throw it at his face. He manages to dodge it, but it distracts him long enough where I can run into the bathroom. I grab a can of hairspray and as he comes in, I spray him in the face.
If I was using more common sense, I might have remembered that hairspray (like many other things a person uses for their face and hair) is made not hurt your eyes too much. However, this completely blanked from mind. So when I spray the Joker, I expect him to cover his eyes in pain, giving me enough time to come up with another half-assed plan. Unfortunately, the Joker merely rubs his irritated eyes for a second and grabs me by the shoulders, dragging me from the bathroom.
The Joker hulls me onto the bed, laughing madly, and sits upon my legs so I can’t get up.
“Get off,” I grimace I push at his legs.
“Ohh! This is going to be fun!” the Joker laughs. “I intend to thoroughly enjoy myself…hopefully you will as well.”
The Joker cackles when I tell him to get off again. Reaching under me to unbuckle my bra brings his arm dangerously close to my mouth. Making the most of the opportunity, I bite down upon his forearm as hard as I can. The Joker grunts in pain and sends a stinging blow to my face. I feel my cheek start to swell up from the slap but continue to wave my arms about frantically, preventing the Joker from unbuckling my bra.
“Holy shit, Elena! Calm the fuck down!” the Joker seethes. Finally, the he brings his knife out and slashes through the front of my bra, and hurls it to the floor. I gasp in panic and quickly cover my bare breasts with my hands.
“Why so modest,” the Joker asks with a high-pitched giggle of excitement.
“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to share myself with you?” I counter angrily.”
“Oh why not?” the Joker pouts. “You have lovely breasts. A little small, but nice.”
“Get off me!” I scream heatedly, my fear deepening at his proximity. I can see the maddening glint in his eyes and tense at the sight of his gruesome scars.
“Be nice now. Respect your superiors…or is it ‘elders’? Whatever, either way it applies. Besides,” he purrs, “you’re here to bring me pleasure. And this will most definitely bring me pleasure.”
Before I can respond, he grabs my arms and pins them up above my head. I struggle to free myself but to no avail, he is just too strong. In fact, he is able to hold both my arms in place with just one hand. With the other, he begins to eagerly explore my exposed chest.
With the tip of his finger, the Joker lightly traces the curves of my breasts, sending chills down my spine. I force myself to believe they are chills of disgust, but might be lying. And thus begins the first of many mental wars I have with myself. On one hand, I hate the Joker. There are times I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, or at least hurt him. On the other hand, if I close my eyes, it’s easy for me to pretend he’s someone else. I have to admit it feels good, and thinking about any normal guy doing it instead of the Joker makes it wonderful.
The Joker begins to squeeze and kneed one of my breasts as he wetly kisses the side of neck. He tries to move his lips to my face, but I turn harshly away. Not caring, he goes back to my neck, sucking roughly on the skin, almost tearing it. I make a noise of pain that he takes for pleasure and moves his mouth down to my breast. I feel his tongue trace around my erect nipple before flicking it a few times. As I glance down, I absorb the image of this painted psycho ravishing my body. I can’t help feeling revolted at the sight. White and red paint is smeared across my chest, making me look like I’m bleeding. I arch my back, feeling sick and whisper “Please, stop.”
Either the Joker ignores me or doesn’t hear because he keeps on going, sucking on my left nipple, then moving to my right. I realize it’s too late to get out of this and might as well try to enjoy it. Closing my eyes, I picture the cute guy in my Poetry class I’ve had a crush on for awhile. We’ve only talked a bit but he’s really nice. I sigh softly as the Joker (or in my mind, ‘cute poetry guy’) continues to suck on my nipples and while kneading my butt through my shorts.
A soft cry issues from my lips as he bites down, pulling my nipple up ever so slightly. A wave of warm pleasure ripples through my nether regions. I feel my heart beat rapidly as strong hands fervidly rub down my torso. At this point, I realize my arms are not longer pinned does. Shaking from pleasure, I start knotting my fingers through my lover’s hair. As a moan begins to form in my throat, I open my eyes. Instantly, I’m swept into reality. No longer am I in a passionate fantasy, but in the dark room of no escape. The man on top of me is not the cute guy from poetry class, but the Joker. And now, with my hands on him, I’m willingly participating in this...disgusting spectacle. Quickly, I sit up and push the Joker off of me.
“I can’t do this,” I gasp out. “It’s too much, I just…I can’t.” I use one of the pillows behind me to cover my chest. The Joker’s eyes twinkle.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks slickly, “I can tell, your face is flushed, your heartbeat has quickened,” he quickly slide up to me and grabs at my pussy through my shorts, “and you’re wet.”
“Ok, maybe I did like it,” I confess, pushing his hand away embarrassedly, “but it was only because I was pretending you were someone else.” The Joker frowns slightly but then smiles again and tries to yank the pillow away from me.
“Well, we can’t have that can we,” he says a bit perturbed. After another quick tug, he gets the pillow and throws it on the ground. I cover myself.
“This time, keep your eyes open, ok sweetie? And no daydreaming, otherwise what’s the point?”
I shake my head and swing my legs over the side of the bed, “No, no I’m done for today. I don’t want to do this.” The Joker eyes me for a few seconds as I begin to get up.
He then starts laughing wickedly as he reaches over and drags me harshly back on to the bed.
“Nooo, no no,” I groan in annoyance as he straddles me and then shriek in pain as he pinches my nipples tightly. He leans his head down again, dragging his teeth across my collarbone.
GET OFF ME!” I scream, kicking my legs that are trapped underneath him. “GET OFF M-”
The Joker pulls out a knife. The blade glimmers in the dim light. With it so close to my face, I can make out my wavering reflection. I stop moving at once. “Struggle all you want,” the Joker growls at me, “oooh, how it turns me on. Really, you’re doing me a favor. But stop screaming or I will cut you.” A sob unintentionally leaves my mouth and I nod weakly.
The Joker proceeds and winds his hand in my hair, bringing my face close to his. I wince, thinking he’s about to kiss me but instead he softly licks my lips and then trails his tongue down my neck. I whimper as he begins to roughly grope my breasts and close my eyes again.
“Think of hot guy, think of hot guy,” I tell myself. I’m attempting to enjoy the experience when the sharp burn of ruptured flesh explodes across my left shoulder. My eyes snap open and I see a small but deep cut in my upper arm. A slow stream of blood trickles out.
“I said not to close your eyes,” the Joker says matter-of-factly. He runs his finger through the blood on my arm and before I can turn away, paints a red smile across my lips.
“There, now you’re smiling. You really should smile more; how many girls can say they’ve been with me? Not many, that’s for sure. I’m very selective.” He strokes my damp hair. “What I’m trying to say dearie, is I’m pretty special. And the next time you pretend I’m someone else, you’ll be smiling permanently, if you get my drift.” He lifts up his arms, stretching like a cat and leers at me.
“Nothing to say? Well, that was good enough I guess. You’re getting better at embracing your inner sex-u-ality.” He looks at me for a reply, but I am still too much in shock to give one.
“Anyways,” he continues, “you should get cleaned up. It’s getting late and you have paint all over you!” The Joker strokes my clothed pussy once again and laughs. “And you’ve absolutely soaked your shorts, naughty girl!” He lifts himself up so I can slide out from under him.
“Thanks for playing along!” he says cheerfully to me as I retreat into the bathroom and close the door shut.
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Living in Darkness- HIATUS/editing ch 19-25