Stockholm: Agent of Chaos

“You’re a good person! I know it! Deep, deep down inside, you are a good person!”

The next day almost started with me loosing my cool and yelling at him. He let out the most shrill laugh yet. “Good, good, good!” he mocked. “What is up with society’s obsession with ‘goodness’?”

I sighed. “You’re so far gone, it’s sad,” I spat with all of the anger that had built up in me and boiled inside my mind as if it were a pressure cooker of sorts.

He grabbed my shoulders tightly and shook me roughly. “You don’t tell me anything. Shut your mouth.”

“Fuck you! You’re fucking crazy! Kill me already! Just fucking do it!” I screamed so loud that the air coming from inside me nearly scraped away the tissue lining my esophagus and my voice developed a temporary raspy sound to it.

Again, with the dreadful laugh. “I’m not your typical killer, honey. I’m not gonna let you off that easy.”

“So is that it? You just laugh all of your troubles away? Kill innocent people to make yourself feel better?”

“Innocent? Innocent? You honestly have no idea why you’re really here, do you?”

I silenced myself. “I thought it was because I’m the mayor’s daughter.”

“Well, that just happened to be another beneficial reason.” I remained quiet. After a longer than expected pause he asked, “Don’t you want to know why?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Actually, it does!” he piped. “You see, you may have learned that I like to stalk my prey before I pounce. And what I found about you was very interesting, to say the least.”

“Like what?” I asked, now more anxious than ever. There isn’t anything that came to mind that I had done, at least recently, that could’ve been bad enough to kidnap me and keep me hostage.

“Oh! Now she’s interested!” I shot a glance at him that could kill. “Well, he began. You simply take life for granted.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“What’s with the profanity today?”

“I am fucking sick of your bullshit games.”

“You, pretty lady, think that the world revolves around you. You spend money like it’s water when people in third world countries don’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out. You let your mummy and daddy provide for you when you know that you’re damn well old enough to be taking care of yourself. You’re a self-centered, unappreciative, undeserving bitch.” He began to circle around me and eventually stopped behind me and slit the rope from my wrists and ankles. “You wanna hit me?” he asked with an almost condescending tone.

“Why’s it any of your business whether I’m a selfish bitch or not?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I just get bored sometimes.”

I stood up suddenly and stood face to face with him. “Fuck. You,” I said very slowly and precisely, pronouncing each word clearly from the beginning to end of each letter so he knew that I meant it.

“Then hit me. Hard. I want you to do it. Like you really mean it.”

For some utterly insane reason, I didn’t hit him. I didn’t hurt him in any way. That was my chance to make a break for it maybe. To get away. But I turned down that chance because at that moment, I didn’t want it. I knew that he was crazy, out of his mind, missing a few crucial nuts and bolts; that could be seen by anyone. But there are those certain people who still have that goodness hidden deep down inside of them, in the darkest crevice of their souls, and I knew that he was one of them. I mean, I was still alive. There was a reason for that. He could’ve blown my brains out days ago. He didn’t. He had a story, like everyone else. Why should I judge him on how it affected him? Only God can judge us, and I’m the farthest from that. He’d kept me company, fed me, and stopped other creeps from touching me. Sure, I wasn’t in the most desirable condition but I was better off than most. What came next puzzled me, even to this day. I grabbed his makeup covered face with both hands firmly, and pressed my mouth to his.

The whole ordeal lasted only five seconds, tops. When I let go we just stood in front of each other, hands drooped to our sides, eyes connected. Slowly, his brought his hand up to cup the left side of my face. He wore the same leather gloves and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. There was a sharp fear in me but was settled by his reaction. He hand slid from my face to the back of my head and he pulled me to him again. I stepped forward which forced him to back up and eventually fall to the couch. I straddled him and let his curious hands roam my body as I kissed him with all of this anger I had in me.

I don’t know what I was trying to prove. I don’t know if it worked. I don’t know if I really wasn’t trying to prove anything at all and this entire situation was again based off of my selfish wants and needs. And I can’t say I wasn’t attracted to him. I could tell that he had a strong face which possessed high cheek bones, well rounded lips, and clear eyes.

I felt him take off his gloves and for the first time I felt what his actual skin felt like, not covered in cheap makeup or clothes. His touch was soft which was an unexpected contrast to the rest of him. I pressed my body to his and let his warmth transfer to me. I pulled my hair back and felt his lips on my neck. Suggestively, I pulled down the one side of my tank top off my shoulder. My fingers ran through his greasy, green hair and the more I explored his seemingly grotesque body, the more turned on I became. Our breathing became heavy and we both carried a stench of body odor, his more offensive than mine. “You taste sweet,” he whispered as if he were more so thinking it than saying it.

Who would have thought that this so-called “evil villain” had this side to him? It’s unimaginable to most. It’s because he was just as much human as I was and as everyone else.

“I want it,” I said between breaths.

He didn’t respond but I felt his body stiffen as I began to unbutton his pants. We continued on for what seemed like forever yet wasn’t long enough. Eventually, I tried to remove my shirt but he held my arms down. “I can’t,” he spoke.

“Why not?” I asked.

“I just… I can’t… He stood and straightened himself up.

I sat on the couch frazzled. Clothes dripping off me, hair messy, white, black, and red makeup smeared across my face and neck. I felt like a fool, giving myself away like that only to be told ‘no’. I looked at him with eyes that begged for a reason. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something but didn’t and simply turned and walked away.

He hadn’t even tied me up before he left, and I knew that he didn’t forget. He wanted me to leave. I’ll leave when I get good and goddamn ready, I thought. Although, I was curious as to know where that door I’d seen earlier led to. I jiggled the handle. Locked. I also began to walk down the hall that he always came from but it soon turned pitch black and I got frightened so I went back. I decided to clean myself up in the bathroom. The cracked and rusted mirror only added to my unattractive appearance. I washed my face in the strange smelling water and dried it with toilet paper. Then I searched in the drawers and found a hairbrush and toothbrush but no toothpaste. I brushed my teeth in the oddly tasting water and then brushed my hair until I was slightly pleased it. There was a rubber band on the floor which I pulled my hair into a high ponytail with.

My once gray tank top had become a very dingy, almost brown color and the same applied to my jeans. I looked at my feet, which were also grungy and sighed. I exited the bathroom and laid down on the sofa which was unusually hard but at the time felt like Heaven compared my recent sleeping arrangements. I stared at the dark ceiling, which I actually couldn’t see, and just thought about things. I thought about my life, how I was leading it. I thought about the Joker. I thought about the situation that had just happened. I thought about these things over and over, in circle after circle, until sleep comforted me once again.