Paper Planes

XVIII

"Have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight?"
—Jack Nicholson

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Ember's nose was undoubtedly broken.

After nearly an hour of leaning over the bathtub, her bright red blood staining the off-white plastic tub as she gaudily sobbed, the bleeding began to cease.

Joker hadn't even checked on her. Not that she necessarily wanted him to, anyways. In all honesty, she was rather fearful of him again.

Back to square fucking one.

How fucking vacuous could she be to actually think that he remotely had any feelings towards her? Even though she'd openly admit that she was still in love with Jackson, she did not love the Joker, and the events that unfolded in the kitchen today proved exactly why.

He was a monster.

As the woman lay slung over the tub, her ribs beginning to ache from the uncomfortable position, Jackson's fifteen-year-old face bombarded her mind.

God, what she'd do to have him back.

"Ember?" A muffled voice squeaked from behind the wood of the door.

"Come in." She lazily spoke, her head throbbing in discomfort as she didn't even bother to look at who entered.

"Are you hungry?" Horton's voice called.

"He hates me, doesn't he?" Ember croaked, the back of her hand lazily swiping against her nostrils as she wiped away the excess blood.

Horton raised a brow, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other in the doorway.

"If he hated you, you'd be dead."

Ember twisted in her spot, collapsing onto her bottom as her back rest against the side of the tub. The blonde boy stood stiffly in the doorway, his bottom lip between his teeth as he observed the blackened skin surrounding her nose.

"What's going on between you two?" He added, quite nervous to hear her response. Even though he adored his boss with every fiber of his being, he knew that he'd never be his.

"I dunno," She honestly answered, avoiding any eye contact with the henchman. "One minute he's a sappy romantic, kissing me under the stars with Stevie Nicks playing in the background. The next, he's clinging to me like a fucking leech, practically ripping my clothes off. And then, nothing. Fucking stone cold."

Why the hell was she telling all of this to Horton?

"You guys have kissed?" The man squeaked, his face paling as the words left his mouth.
"Do you fuck, too?"

Ember paused, observing the expression plastered across Horton's face as she shuffled in place against the tub.

"Uh, no."

Even though the thought of him merely disgusted her at the moment, the visuals of them becoming intimate with one another were enough to make her toes curl. Sure, they'd only been together—like that—the one time way-back-when, but she couldn't help but wonder how it'd be to sleep with the fucking Joker. Something told her that he was the dominant type in bed.