The Dark Knight

[Nikki]

"You're a little sick. You know that, right?" The only guns I know of are in the hands of those men rotting on the kitchen floor.
And not only that; he's sick for what he just did to me. I grit my teeth together and disappear as quickly and quietly as I can to where they're lying.
After battling the effects of rigor mortis on human limbs, I'm back. It's not so bad with it being almost pitch black.
All they carried were small hand guns, though. I hope it suits his preference.

[boo radley]

[[lol haha I'm trying to piss harley off here, btw]]
I crack my neck. Yeah, maybe that was a little mean. I didn't mean to get her like that, but didn't she see how bad I'm feeling? I've spent the entire night moping about little old wifey, and my freaking life, and my freaking arm, and all of that has accumulated into negative feelings that are swelling up. See, I can be a psychiatrist, too. I'm flipping off right now. Harley comes back with the gun, pissed off. I'm sorry, Harley. I'm sorry I can't let go of the past. And I'm sorry I have to apologize because more than I hate everything, I hate apologies. But this one needs to be said. Too bad I can't say it out loud.

[Nikki]

[it's working I interpret her as being more sad than angry, though]

I come back into the room with frustrated, embarrassed tears in my eyes, a bloody, bitten lip, and the gun in question.
"Here." I toss it haphazardly into his lap, half hoping it goes off.
You like pain, right, Mistah J?
Then I return to the couch, sitting down with an exasperated sigh and rubbing my aching eyes with the heels of my hands.
"She's a disgusting little cunt, by the way. I hate her."
What I'm really saying is, Put me down like a dog if you have to. I'm tired of your games. I just want to love you.

I'd been dreaming a little before his laughing woke me up. How he'd looked to me earlier, the light from a billion windows pinpricking the rain-slicked city streets. A gun in his hand and a smile on his face. And his other hand in mine.

[boo radley]

I stare at her for a long time. Ha. Pissing another person off. At least it’ll be fun for now. I have something to do, a different adrenaline rush. I need adrenaline. It’s the only thing that keeps me awake, away from the nasty nightmares of the “disgusting little cunt.” Hah. Cunt. Nice work, Harley. Way to make me LAUGH. I laugh out loud. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha.” Oh that makes me feel better. “Ha ha ha ha ha.” Now it’s a mad sort of schizophrenia, almost. I stick the gun in my mouth, ready to shoot. I pull the trigger –
Nothing.
Damn. It’s empty. Unloaded. I give her a look. She looks more scared than pissed. Then again what do I know?

[Nikki]

I stare at him, wide-eyed. "That was so. . .not funny," I say blankly, wondering if I'm going to go into cardiac arrest or something.
"Next time you get those little urges, take them out on me, alright? I might as well be good for something around here." My asylum I.D. is poking me through the breast pocket of my labcoat, and I unclip it and toss it lazily aside.
All that freaking med school for this.

[boo radley]

I laugh. "Look, although hurting you would be...mildly interesting... I don't feel end results." I wouldn't, not unless it affected me.

[Nikki]

So basically, I'm more worthless than a punching bag. Great.
"That gun could've gone off in your lap. I bet you would've been sooo happy, then."
I'm glad it wasn't. Because what's he gonna do, blow his brains out and leave me all alone? To find my way back to an asylum in the dark?
Of course he would.
"Try cutting, maybe. You look like the type." You look like me, I think, fingering a thread-thin, perfect scar on the tender part of my arm.
Psychologists are humans, too.
"Or if, one day, it hurt you to hurt me, we'd both be happy."
Masochists. Happy masochists.

[boo radley]

Cutting.
I felt the scars on my face. I felt the... smile. Smile smile smile.
End result number one: I would feel some sort of happiness, some new result. Because I would relate.
Knives.
Cutting.
I looked at Harley. Fine. Maybe this... girl... would understand me after all. I didn't know if I could let it happen, but I suppose that was one of the few things I began to think about.
"Good call."

[Nikki]

I'm digging at my scars, with my fingernails, knowing exactly what I need.
It's been a long time since I've cut, and it had taken a long time to stop.
And I'm watching two smiles ten feet away from me.
And I'm thinking now's the time to start again.
Because I realize now that he makes me want to tear my skin open-however I can- with wanting him so badly.
"You're the one with the knives," I say, my arms shaking.
It's not that I don't feel anything. . .no, on the contrary, I feel so much that there's no place to put it. Nothing to do but mutilate, nothing to mutilate but myself, because I wouldn't hurt a hair on his head, given the choice.
"Knives," I repeat, my voice trembling now, too.

[boo radley]

So she was being serious now? I hesitated. For once. Then I handed her the knives. "Take them."
I don't know what I was thinking. I guess this was some sort of "acceptance test" on my behalf.