Page 30 of Joker
Looking at him as if he’s crazy. “I’m in pain.”
I don’t usually admit this, but my body needs a break. Scooping me up in his arms, he carries me upstairs to my room.
“Rest, my pet.”
Glad he’s gone, I make my way to the bathroom and into the shower. I just want to be clean. Scrubbing my body, but being careful around my burns and cuts. I stay in the shower for a while, letting the water run over me and wash away my tears as they stream down my face. Once the water is running cold, I get out and dry. Applying cream to my wounds, I curl back into bed and fall asleep as my body craves time to heal.
A week or two passes, and I’m able to get out of bed. Sitting at the kitchen table after making breakfast, he finally speaks.
“You have healed nicely, my pet. I’ll give you a few more days before I have some very important guests. We will be having a party,” he states.
My body shakes and I feel sick. No, just no! This is the worst it’s ever been. I know I cannot take anymore. With the multiple men and the things they do to my body, I cannot survive anymore. My mind starts to spin.
“NO!” I scream as I jump out of my seat.
The look of shock and then rage on his face is almost comical.
“My pet, you do not get to decide. I own you, and you will do as you’re told!” By the end, he’s shouting at me. His face is red with rage.
“FUCK YOU!” I shout.
Yup, I’ve lost it. I know he wanted to break me, but not sure this is what he had in mind. The human body and mind can only cope with so much. I’m done!
“You’re a sick, twisted, and evil person. I won’t say man as you’re not a real man. A real man doesn’t need to abuse a woman to feel good about themselves. You’re pathetic. You can’t even get a woman, so you have to kidnap one. You have no clue how to treat a woman. As for giving me pleasure, that’s a fucking joke. Your pencil dick couldn’t cause pleasure if you tried. You need a map and a full guided tour to know how to please a woman,” I rant.
Too caught up in my rant, I don’t see his fist until it’s too late. I start laughing hysterically.
“You even punch like a fucking little girl.”
That was not the right thing to say and the final nail in my coffin as he launches himself at me, his hands wrap around my neck, and we’re falling to the floor. We land with a thud, and his full weight is on top of me, his hands still wrapped around my neck. He starts to squeeze, and I can feel myself struggling to breathe. Remembering what my dad had told me about keeping calm and fighting back, I plant my feet firmly on the floor and using them as leverage, I buck my hips, trying to push him off. I claw at his face and try hitting him everywhere I can reach.
Managing to find his eyes, I push my thumbs into his eye sockets. The scream is ripped from him as he lets go of my neck, his hands going to his face. Rolling over and trying to get as much oxygen into my lungs, I attempt to stand up. I feel his hand in my hair as he grabs a handful and pulls me back to him.
“You stupid fucking whore!” he howls.
I kick back at him as he tries to smack my face into the cabinet, but not having the power after our fight earlier. Fuck, it still hurt as my face hit the wood.
“Get off me, you prick,” I say. I keep kicking him, and he keeps punching me.
Feeling with my hands across the cabinet, I come across something cold. Wrapping my hand around the handle, I lift the frying pan and swing with all my might, colliding with his head. He seems dazed, and I manage to make my way down the hall to my room.
Running into the room, I slam the door closed and quickly find the gun I had hid earlier. My vision is starting to blur. I fumble, clicking the safety off, just as the door slams open, hitting the wall as he storms into the room. I point the gun in his direction.
“Don’t come any fucking closer,” I warn.
His laugh is maniacal.
“You don’t have the guts to shoot me. You’re weak and pathetic,” he states. Smirking at me, he starts to step closer. “I broke you. You’re MINE!”
Grinning back at him, I reply, “You never broke me and never will.” With a maniacal laugh of my own, I add, “I hope you rot in hell!”
With my parting words, I empty the clip into him. I can see the shock on his face as he slumps to the floor. Dropping the gun, I feel my own body fall as the world goes black.
CHAPTERTWELVE
JOKER
I’m sitting in the family room with Beau as he decides what movie to watch next. Slowly we have been watching all the kids’ movies I can think of, to try and work out what he likes without being too babyish for him.
