|
|
Post by Nikki on Oct 18, 2010 3:20:52 GMT
"Animals."
Suddenly the word slips out and I don't know what to do with it. It just kind of hangs there, truth with a startling face that I'm not sure I want to look in to.
When you take away morals, conscience, all the human trappings, that's what you get. Beast. Something that's not afraid to use its teeth, at whatever cost, something that lusts more than loves, something just a bit nocturnal and instinctual. Us. Me.
No wonder I'm raging inside.
|
|
|
|
Post by boo radley on Oct 18, 2010 3:30:52 GMT
"Exactly," I say, letting my eyelids flutter open, staring at the ceiling. "Dogs chasing cars, cats chasing mice, apes tearing limbs off of who-knows-jack-shit.... animals. That's all we really are. Power-hungry, blood-thirsty, fucked up shitheads. Beasts. Wild beasts..." I trail off, glancing barely at Harley. She's shaking a little. Every once in a while, a little realization slips and hits her in the head like an anvil dropping and squishing someone flat. I let out a little giggle at the thought, then quiet down. Tonight, this - this is one of those times.
|
|
|
|
Post by Nikki on Oct 18, 2010 3:38:30 GMT
After all this time I can still barely stand the sound of his laugh. His voice is horrible enough but when he laughs it's like everything is about to collapse.
It's so quiet in this room and as he giggles every once in a while at a thought, he bites his lower lip to hold it back. I can feel every part of me aching, especially the knot on my forehead, throbbing and throbbing like a heartbeat.
Suddenly I notice something. "I can almost see your face," I say calmly.
|
|
|
|
Post by boo radley on Oct 18, 2010 3:45:48 GMT
I suddenly freeze.
And that's when all drops.
"No... no you can't. You shouldn't. You..." And I fall silent. I don't want my face seen - I don't want anything to do with me - the me before - to be seen, not unless I need to use it to work to my advantage... somehow. And I stare at her with such a deep look of "the past" in my eyes that it probably looks like I'm someone else, and not me. Whoever "me" is.
"I need to put my makeup on."
|
|
|
|
Post by Nikki on Oct 18, 2010 3:50:12 GMT
I jump on him and make him stay. Not flirtatiously, not violently. "Is that an insecurity I see?" I say calmly, looking him in the eyes. "You look just the same to me. You seem just the same to me."
A little more troubled and calm than usual, but still.
|
|
|
|
Post by boo radley on Oct 18, 2010 3:52:27 GMT
"It is." Suddenly I feel weak. Like I'm about to say, I'm sorry, for the billionth time. "Let go of me. I need to put my makeup on," I say once more - this time with a deeper urgency, as if the world will end if I don't. "Let me go."
|
|
|
|
Post by Nikki on Oct 18, 2010 3:55:54 GMT
I back off in shock. He's never made a request of me. The Joker doesn't make requests. He makes demands. Completely unsettled, I look at him for an instant before letting him get up.
|
|
|
|
Post by boo radley on Oct 18, 2010 4:00:34 GMT
I push my way off and go upstairs, locking myself in.
Suddenly I'm not... a monster anymore.
Suddenly I'm the old guy - the one I hate with all my gut. I punch the mirror and scream for the hell of it.
Next thing I know, I'm taking my blood and painting a smile all over again, right on top of the scars, giving myself black eyes to make up for the makeup, and pressing my face until the blood's gone from my cheeks.
A real Joker.
A madman.
|
|
|
|
Post by Nikki on Oct 18, 2010 4:10:24 GMT
I bolt up the stairs when I hear the mirror smash. Placebo won't shut up, it's deafening up here, closer to the stereo, and I yank the cord from the wall before I go into the adjoining room.
When I get there I stand in the doorway, looking at his ruined face, the bruises hollowing out his cheek bones, the sticky conglomeration of blood in the corners of his mouth. I see hell in his eyes and I want to burn in him forever. Most people would see the void there and run. I can't.
I want it.
|
|
|
|
Post by boo radley on Nov 11, 2010 23:59:08 GMT
(I was rereading the first few pages of the RP and I suddenly went, "whoa, I suck at Joker." hahaha. I try too hard I guess.)
There's no more war-paint, this is the real deal. I'm no more a painted monster as I am a real monster. It's all gone. And inside, I hear my heart stop beating, and a grin grow on my face, and stay plastered there. Frozen in the moment. Oppressed. I don't want to remember, so I won't. Nothing can force me. I turn to Harley, blood dripping from my mouth, my swollen, black eyes making it hard for me to see. "This is the monster you came home with, Harley."
|
|
