Levity

“Does it matter what it is?” I glanced up at him, a thin layer of sweat still grazing his tanned features. I pouted as I turned, pushing my upper body to meet his, letting the cover fall and expose me. “Well then what does it do?”

“It’s a narcotic, relaxes you, supposed to make you hallucinate a little, like you’re dreaming.”

I rolled my eyes, “And how much you selling it for?”

“I’m shipping it out for Lorenzo for a decent amount...” He grinned quickly, the dimples in both cheeks digging deep. “And of course, there’s the extras he doesn’t know about...” I felt that familiar flurry of worry in my stomach and tried to push past it, fiddling with the edge of the thin sheet as he continued to ramble about his latest scheme to con as much money from the dangerous drug baron as possible.

“If he finds out Ja-“ His palm rested a little too hard over my mouth, muffling his name as he shushed me. I waited until he retracted it, “Jack, seriously...” The next push was harder, at the nape of my neck so my back met the pillow, my skull hitting off the headboard. I bit back my exclamation of pain, watching him roll his eyes as his fingers drummed over my lips.

"You talk too much.” His hand travelled quickly down to my bruised breast, grabbing it roughly as he dipped to bring his lips against mine, the kiss so ferocious that when he pulled away my chest was stinging and I was breathless. I admired the way his cheeks flushed a light pink, but he wasn’t looking at me, instead he was staring at the wall, thinking, the crease between his brows appearing.

“Enough.” He blurted randomly a good thirty seconds later, “Enough that we can properly...” He gestured to the dingy room around us, the mold an almost beautiful pattern of grey and green in one corner. “I hate this fucking apartment. We need to start going somewhere else.” I nodded although I didn’t agree, it wasn’t ours, of course not but it was in a half nice building, and we hadn’t had any trouble staying up here the odd day...or week rather. But, any hint that he wanted to form some true sort of a home with me was enough to let him drag me into every shit hole in the Narrows.

“Just... be careful with stuff, kay?” He scoffed, finally twisting back to me, eyes scanning over my lightly bruised torso in a way that made me self conscious. I went to tug up the sheet but he tore it down, “You should be worried about yourself. Not me.” He pressed down hard on a particularly dark spot on my bicep.

“You’re the one getting mixed up in all of this, ripping off the dealers is going to get back to them...” I cut him off before he could argue, “And I know you’re smart, I’m not denying that, but if they find out you want to mess about with it and make money on the side they are going to be...” He stopped me this time not with a kiss but by slamming his hand hard close to my temple against the cheap wood. I jumped with a shriek but his nimble fingers were already tangled in my knotted hair.

He let them slowly drag through, catching every painful knot, “We’re good. Good, good, good, good.” His voice grew to a speedy ramble, and without realising, eyes again not on my face, his tugging grew more vicious. I knew that look, the odd faraway stare that turned in a split second, the calm before the storm.

I kept my mouth shut until he blinked back into reality, his voice had dropped any sense of playfulness but he moved his hand to stroke down my cheek, wiping away the pathetic tear that had shed at the aching upon my scalp. “You want some or not Elle?”

I bit my lip, eyeing the small bottle of liquid and nodding.

Anything to make him happy.

The room was dark, damp, hidden in the maze of streets that created the Narrows. I hated the place, it was where the true scum of Gotham lived, they crept in the shadows, lurked in every black inky corner. It was where I had grown up in a horrible damp flat with my mother and whatever man she was fucking that week.

It was where I had met him.

Where the Joker had been created and Jack had been destroyed.

My mouth was dry, neck still burning as I watched the various goons walk about unmasked. Some I recognised but many I didn’t. There had been a larger breakout from Blackgate than they had originally said, the news had focused on the big three names, but many others had slipped away that night as well. A few of them were here, judging from the pile of orange prison jumpsuits in one corner of the basement, underneath the metal steps.

My hands were held by duct tape on my lap, skin tugging and stinging whenever I tried to move them, my bare feet rested on the cold scuffed floor, the underneaths black. I had landed a kick when Jack had tossed me to a couple of the others so had lost the privilege of shoes. Not that they were far, sitting beside me on the low old table.

My second attempt not to react had been just as swiftly been ruined when I had felt a strangers hand begin to slip up my thigh. That man lay on the floor now, his movement not missing Jack’s sharp eyes.

The blood had began to seep from the hole in his neck instantly, the puddle finally stopping just inches from my feet, dark red nail varnish on my toenails echoing it. I hated how little it bothered me, the act had been quick, slick as Jack was with a knife. I wasn’t sorry for him, the man. I had no idea who he was, what he had done to get himself into prison. I didn’t care about him. I cared about the person shut away in what must have been the floor managers office.

That, more than anything now I was here worried me most.

Why had Jack brought me here just to leave me? That wasn’t like him, not ever had he wanted to share anything he felt he owned, myself included.

Since we’d arrived I hadn’t seen him and hours must have passed from the rotation of men standing close to me. I had no way of knowing if they knew who I was, or even why I was here. Jack just had that power to attract people who would do exactly as he pleased, who would dote on his every word.

Often I supposed I had been one of them...was one of them. My chest tightened and I shifted gently to ease the ache in my buttocks, but the loud creaking of the table just attracted more stares. Some were blank, had no idea who I was, why I was sitting here like a bruised statue.

I looked down timidly, staring at the scuffs on the table edge. When I was feeling braver I would let my eyes scour across the warehouse.

One I knew far too well. It was hard to avoid eye contact and as more time stretched past I could sense him debating coming over. It wouldn’t end well. “Can I have some water or something?” I half whispered, a little afraid to lift my voice much above that level, the man closest, leaning against the edge of the rusted metal frowned deeply, other than watching me they clearly had no set instruction.

I didn’t doubt they would follow each syllable from Jack as law.

He seemed to think it over for a while, before rubbing his damp palms over his dirty jeans and vanishing into the office. I could hear the low murmur of voices before there was one sudden loud shout and he practically scampered out, hands hooking around my bound wrists and dragging me in, the door slamming closed as he took his escape.

At least that one was half smart, he knew better than to push Jack when he showed any hint of anger, another couple of seconds and there would likely have been two corpses on the ground.

“You’re thirsty.” It wasn’t a question but I still answered with a hesitant yes. The oversized hoody had been thrown aside to reveal a loose white shirt, again too large for him and dark trousers. His hair was still blonde, they clearly hadn’t gotten their hands on any dye yet and at this stage that would be far too obvious a move. I knew from seeing his jaw that his face was also bare but I wasn’t sure how promising that was. He hated people he kept around as goons seeing him without everything on, without the look that people feared, that was now iconic.

It was either a smart hesitancy in obtaining those things or this was purposeful. I was thinking too far into things and was drifting into space, jumping back into reality with a start as he slid a knife between my wrists and freed them. “Duct tape?” He was murmuring to himself again but I stood dead still as he peeled it, not roughly but certainly not softly from my skin, leaving it a tingling pink.

He strolled off again, although the slight limp was slowing him down. I took the opportunity to look around the office, it was small of course, slightly better lighting although the lamp was covered in a thick layer of dust. The rest of the room was much the same, there were what looked like maps, some sort of construction crew on one side but the desk itself was meticulously laid out, the only way he could bear having it.

He vanished through a side door and returned within a few seconds, dingy glass filled with water. I let him press it into my hand. There was a time when most of my belongings were in a similar state and I was so thirsty it only took a moment before I was gulping it down, the water tricking out of either side of my mouth.

He noticed, staring at me almost inquisitively a few feet away, he gestured for the cup once I was done in that odd jerky way and accepted it, slamming it down on the desk so hard it cracked and broke into several pieces. I tried to ignore the slices that appeared on his fingers, “Ja-“

“So,” he lifted his hand up, the blood starting to fill the cuts and gather, wiping it nonchalantly on his shirt, the smear almost the same shape as his smile had been that night. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

His voice is level, smooth, almost a purr.

I’m in trouble.