The Nowhere Girl

31. Can We Catch a Break for Once? Please?? As a Treat?

Remember in chapter 11. when I said, "Life is an endless series of trainwrecks with only brief commercial-like breaks of happiness", well spending the night with Jason has been the ultimate commercial break. Which means it's time to return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Jason's large body is pressed up against mine as he sleeps silently, cuddling me. His hands are still all over me, one cups my breast while the other remains wrapped around my waist. The tight, protective grip on me loosens as he falls deeper into sleep.

But I can't sleep.

I been in Belle Reve for the last month, and after that, the Suicide Squad. Both felt less dangerous than this place.

Something's wrong. I can feel it.

Something evil.

I carefully slip from his grasp. I crawl out of bed as quiet as can with my aching legs, careful of making the bed squeak.

Moonlight slips in through the curtains shinning against Jason's skin, illuminating the white streak in his hair. His lips are parted slightly as he sleeps soundly. I can't help but admire him for a second despite fear nagging at me. But I can't help that I'm infatuated with the way his abs and brawny muscles look. He's too handsome for his own good. I could stare at him for hours. Especially when he's peaceful like this.

With a sleepy groan, he stretches catching my wrist. "Doll?"

"I had another Liam Neeson nightmare. I kidnapped his daughter and he just wasn't having it." I lean over, my face hovering over his. I smile and softly place a kiss on his cheek. "They made three of those movies. At some point you have to wonder if he's just a bad parent. Go back to sleep, bean."

I sip into a shirt and pad into living room. Same as it all, neat. No coffee cups or beer bottles on the coffee table. Chairs tucked in. No photos. Cookbooks line the kitchen shelves, not one out of place.

It's dark.

I take a kitchen knife from the knife-holder-thing.

"Hey?" I call out. "Get you sorry arse out here yer bloodly mongrel."

I hear a creak and my heart thumps with fear and adrenaline. I turn around, holding up the knife in a reverse grip, blade edge facing out.

In the middle of the room stands a human sized figure: a pale monster in a purple suit.

When I say pale, I mean his skin is the purest, most sick shade bleached white I've ever seen. Paper and Killer Frost's hair would not be so white. There's an orange flower in his lapel. Greasy green hair is slicked back over his head. And hie face-

It been peeled off-

And he is wearing it like a mask over a grinning skull.

I think, If Satan were real, he would look like shlub next this guy.

Then I think, No, Satan would be a pansy next to this guy. This guy is like Satan's fashion consultant.

The Joker stands in Jason's living room.

His red eyes lock on to me.

"So Hoodie has a girlfriend," he cackles. "You're Deadshot's brat, aren't you?"

"Red?" I croak. My voice won't work. I try again. "Red?"

Nothing.

"No, don't wake Hoodie, we're old friends, you see?" Joker reaches into suits pocket and draws out a crowbar. "It our anniversary."

"You stay away from him," I snarl, swiping at him with the knife. He dodges back with a manic laugh, almost a high-pitched shriek and lashes out with the crowbar. My momentum won't let me move back so I grab his arm and slash up at his face.

With a howl, Joker stumbles back, cupping his hands over his nose. "My, protective aren't we," he giggles, and it sounds like he's gargling on syrup. He take his hands from his face, and I see why. My knife has taken off his nose. Dark red blood streams down his cheeks, splattering on the ground in toxic drops. Between the purple suit and the newly sawed-off snout, he looked like a diabolical version of Porky Pig. "I guess I can settle for you then."

The Joker charges, showing me how to use a crowbar the hard way. I parry and bodge, but with every swipe, I get a little more battered and bruised. He whaps me in the ribs with a back hand.

I drop like a sack of spuds, and he kicks me in the head. Jason, I need you. Joker pulls me up by the hair and I feel a prick in my neck.

Then the pain starts.

The muscle in my neck and back cramp. Joker drops me to the floor as I start to convulse. I writhe and twist in pain. I can't breathe and my cramping muscles feel like they're going to crush something. The vomiting starts.

Strychnine. He's injected me with strychnine, I think through the pain. The same stuff some sicko cunt farmers put in dingo baits. The convulsion can last for hours and then they die. If I do go in like this, I'm going to break my own bones.

I could fight if it were drugs. But how do you fight something that's designed to kill you?

I feel the blackness closing in around, and before it all fades out, the last thing I see is Jason running towards me.

Meme of the day