Her lids parted when she realized the room had gotten so quiet, eyes momentarily drawn to the dim bulb in the corner of the room, illuminating the peeling wallpaper and the strewn pieces of paper that littered the dirty hardwood floor, the smell of something musty and metallic released into the air from the thin, stained mattress she had been dropped to. A window was to her right, a streetlight casting a small glow upon a brick building that must've neighbored this place, telephone wires in multiple drooping lines hanging down into her view against the smog and light polluted sky. She had no idea where she was, she had gotten detoured on her way to her apartment because of the panic throughout the city, bridges and overpasses shut down and traffic at a standstill everywhere. Having come across sea after sea of brake lights, honking horns and people abandoning their cars in the middle of the road to carry up with those on foot walking through the streets with backpacks and suitcases, she had decided to turn around and try to go the way she'd come.

This supposed detour around the rush of people downtown had lead her towards the docks and right into another pileup of people, the situation running through her thoughts as she looked in her rear view mirror and put the car in reverse, backing up a few feet and switching on her turn signal. She pulled in slowly to the parking complex on her left, the box where the attendant usually would have been empty and the barrier lifted into the air. Peering around, she saw through the brightly lit structure to the other side of the lot, the place as empty as the other streets of Gotham she'd had to navigate through. She felt a warm breath of air pass by her face, let in by the car windows she'd cracked down an inch or so to breathe relatively fresher air than that that had sat in her car throughout the hot summer day.

She glanced down to the clock in her car, the green dashes reading out to 12:06. She yawned, pressing her foot gently on the gas pedal as she drove through the parking complex, a little aggravated that cement barriers blocked her from making a u-turn in the middle of the lot and lead her to the empty side of the building she'd just gazed out to from the crowded street. Following the painted lines in the road that centered between them curving arrows that stretched out to the sides, she turned her wheel to the left, following the set pathway around one of the large cement structures in the building and followed the road straight, the lines extending for several feet in this seemingly massive parking lot before she could make another left turn and head out onto the street.

She never liked working these late hours much, but since she was available the most she supposed she didn't have much to complain about. She'd recently gotten a raise, working in a twenty-four hour pharmacy, and though the late night shifts weren't always the most accommodating there always seemed to be the most interesting people to work with. Besides, getting out at midnight was a treat – usually she worked until four or five in the morning.

As she approached the left turn that would take her through the parking lot again and out to the street, there were a series of speed bumps she had to go over. She shook her head at the idea of somebody having been speeding through a parking lot, pressing lightly on the brakes as she came to the first bump in the road. As she rolled onto the second bump, she heard the faint sounds of footsteps, the familiar patter coming together so fast that it had to be someone running. She shot her eyes to the rear view mirror as she felt the car roll over the bump, seeing nothing but the rows of lights that hung in the ceiling and the empty, oil stained spaces that lie in the lot. When the noise didn't stop and seemed to actually become louder, she glanced over her right shoulder, the car rolling over the last of the speed bumps slowly as the hair on her neck began to stand, and when the frame of a heavily clothed man suddenly blocked the view of her passenger window, she felt herself pull to the left, a small shock flashing through her legs as a gasp seized itself in her chest.

Gloved fingers curled around the glass, knuckles easing their way into the space between window and car. Slowly he lowered his head, the light behind him reflecting the dirty color of his hair, blonde and green and oil that had somehow seemed to mix seamlessly. Even in the shadows she could see the pale, caking makeup on his face, powder creasing on his forehead and the bright red that was smeared across his lips, the pink and purple deep indentations on the corners of his mouth and across his cheeks, old scars played up in bloody makeup under eyelids coated in black, small rivers streaked down in the corners of his eyes. Wet blood reflected the orbs of the garage lights above them, formed around two obviously fresh wounds, his irises pitch black against the white of his eyes, his face curling into a smile as his tongue slowly glided across the right corner of his mouth, tips of deeply yellow stained teeth peaking out from the red flesh of his lips.

"May I bother you for a lift, ma'am?" he asked, his lips coming together, voice scratchy and carrying a light tone, face leaning farther down into the window to see the frail frame of the girl who's hands gripped the wheel, blue veins raised against her skin as her mouth opened but voice froze.

It was then she recognized him. That voice. Those scars. You couldn't have turned on a television anywhere in the world without the news plastering his face on the screen in the past few days. Every officer in the city was trying to find him, the manhunt only growing larger every day. The videos they'd shown, the video of that man as he taunted him, his laughter above his screams… it'd sunk into the back of her skull, the fear gripping her somewhere deep, to the point where she had simply shut off the television and pulled the curtains in, sinking into the sofa as she thought, what could make someone so…

It was him, at her window.

His lids shut, a sigh coming from his chest as he reached one of his hands out through his pocket, a knife slamming against the window with his palm, the weight of the knife smashing through the thin glass of the passenger window, flopping into her passenger seat as his hand reached in and opened the door. A scream barely escaped her throat as he got in, his gloved hands quickly snatching the dropped knife and opening the blade, one gripping her neck and the other covering her mouth as he crunched against glass, the heat of her mouth burning her lips as she screamed into his palm. His eyes burned down upon her face, his glare so vicious it alone could have pinned her against the seat. His lips parted, his teeth remaining clenched together as she tried to shush her, leaning farther across the seat.

"Listen, sweetheart, I won't kill you if you just calm down," he said breathlessly, his gaze becoming less heated as his fingers loosened against her mouth, her jaw no longer held in his painful grasp. "I just need some help."

His eyes stayed upon hers, her mouth quivering as a single tear he hadn't seen welling up suddenly spilled from her left eye, its warmth colliding with and spilling onto the curve of his gloved hand. He broke eye contact, giving her a second or three to collect herself. When those seconds had passed and she remained still within his grasp, and more surprisingly he felt as her nod her head, he slowly released his fingers from her mouth, his eyes staying pinned to her as he slid his hand over hers, shifting the car into park. With his other hand still pressing the knife against her throat, he reached to his side and slammed the door shut, the knife at her throat now scraping harder into her skin.

"I need to get out of here now, and I mean," his lips pulling back against his teeth as another smile formed, "now."

His eyes scanned over her face, over her irises that dashed back and forth across his, watching the way she took a meticulously long look at him.

Her breaths came in pants, panic starting to stiffen her limbs and shaking her breath. She knew who he was, this man who had blown up building after building and murdered countless city officials in a handful of days. She'd been at the public funeral he'd been rumored to start the riot at. The stories had been piling up with every passing day, the accounts of devastation and despair caused by one man in a painted face and purple suit. The images of his face on television, in other newspapers, everywhere she'd gone, they all synced up to the man that sat in her passenger seat, his eyes burning directly into hers, the notches in his lips and cheeks pulling eloquently into the smile again as his gloved fingers slipped off of her hand and back across her cheek.

They came face to face, his nose grazing against hers as she reflexively squeezed her lids shut, her tears soaking into the thick lashes of her lids. His thumb brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, her eyes opening again so he could set his on hers, the dark brown almost seeming a cherry red as he peered gently into hazel, the yellow of her wavy hair illuminated in the lights above the car. He blinked and opened his mouth slowly, the tip of his tongue licking his lip before he spoke.

"Can you?" he asked, his voice low, wavering with his unsteady breath, his arms shaking as he kept them extended. His voice held no anger, the small expressions etched in the corners of his mouth and the lines of his forehead almost hinting he regretted holding the blade to her throat.

She stared forward, looking into his dark eyes. The shadows and speckles of paint across his lids were mixing with the sweat beading on his brow, the scars on his cheeks so deep she could practically see how his flesh had hung open, the look in his eyes like he knew she was looking at those scars and was becoming ever more angry again. He pressed the blade deeper.

"Will you?" he asked once more.

She weakly nodded, her lips pressed shut, terrified to take even the smallest breath.

"Good. I need to go to somewhere I can lie low." His eyes drifted across the windshield, making sure the lot the two sat in still remained empty before returning to his stare.

His hand slid down from her cheek and curled behind her neck, his thumb brushing the small nub of flesh above her earlobe. "I have a place in mind. Will you drive?" he asked, her head still nodding as his hand pulled back from her face, forming into a fist that he rest at his side. The blade in his left hand lay still dangerously pressed against the skin of her neck.

His breathing steadied, falling in rhythm, his eyes still scanning the features of her face, the fear he knew paralyzed her so obviously shown in her eyes. This was more than just some random mugging, some carjacking in a shitty neighborhood at midnight… she clearly knew him this time.

Well, what with those videos and phone calls nearly running constantly on every television network, who didn't know his description by now? Another smile curled his lips, the sheer amazement of how the fuck he'd managed to survive another night – much more this night – finally getting to him. He nearly forgot about the flesh he still held to a sharp object, the way her body still shook. Yes, she knew exactly who he was.

He couldn't help himself from asking. "You've obviously seen me before."

She wanted to shake her head no, she wanted to just take her wallet and give him the car, fuck the wallet he could have it too she just wanted to get out, run, do anything to get out from under the pressure of his body leaning into her. Not wanting to lie, not wanting to think he couldn't trust her if he let her go, she nodded her head again.

His hand slid down from her cheek and curled behind her neck, his thumb running across the small nub of flesh that extended above her earlobe. "I have a place in mind. Will you drive?" he asked.

She nodded. "Okay," he muttered, eyes finally breaking from hers, the blade coming away from her throat and folding shut, irises accordingly following the hand that loosely held the knife as it came down on hers, the weight of his hand pressing forward the stick shift, putting the car back into drive.

"Go," he said, sliding the closed blade into his coat pocket as his vision returned to peer beyond the windshield, a brief glance over his shoulder confirming those officers in the next building hadn't caught on to where he'd run.

She pressed her foot down on the gas pedal, slowly reaffirming her grip on the steering wheel. She felt her chest heave slowly, doing all she could to not panic as her thoughts barely inched upon the world of scenarios she faced. He could kill her, he could rape her, he could blow them both up in this car with the push of a button, he could leave her with someone else that would do all of the above. He'd proved his ability many times over. He was fucking insane, but more than just that – he was calculated, concentrated, painfully focused.

Don't, not now, not now, she thought. She couldn't think about it now. Her heart was beating too loudly against her chest, afraid at any second he'd hear it and have the knife at her throat again.

Navigating dirty streets for miles into a pack of condensed, shoddy apartments above multiple stores, he told her to park behind a row of equally broken down and damaged vehicles, the road lined with streetlights that flickered or burnt out long ago. He'd forced her out of her car, grabbing the keys and holding her close to his body with the blade again to her throat, practically having to break bones to make her shaking legs walk. He pulled her up the small row of stairs outside the building and past a heavy wooden door, down a hallway littered with garbage and cigarette butts like dirty leaves and up so many flights of stairs, the knife now pressed against her stomach, the terror that had overcome her body curling herself around his arm, eyes squeezed shut and lips trembling as he said nothing, his footsteps quiet and in rhythm. When her back would graze against the cold, metal handrail to their side, her eyes would involuntarily snap open, lashes brushing against the coarse material of his dark jacket. She could feel the dampness in his clothing, the sweat from his skin, his cold breaths as he walked up the stairs, the sound of her keys and his knife clanking together in his pocket.

The ascent finally stopped, and she could feel the tips of her shoes being dragged across the floor. Her eyes opened, briefly seeing the poorly lit and empty hallway the two were in, the wood floor beneath scratched and dirty, splinters waiting on every surface she saw. She heard his heavy breaths as he stopped, a hand releasing from her body to dig into his pocket, fingers emerging with a small gold key he used to unlock the chipped metal door handle. The door cracked open, his hand again latching onto the fabric of her clothing, pushing her into the darkness of the room.

The door behind them shut, the light from the hallway slammed out of the room as he released her from his grip, her hands shooting beneath her to break her fall against the thin mattress she couldn't see she was dropped to. She heard the sound of a switch being flipped, and within a few seconds a dim yellow light began to flicker in the room. By the time the light had stabilized and barely illuminated the corner of the room, she could see him standing above her, his fingers twisting the multiple locks on the door. She gazed out into the visible corner of the room, the sight of peeling wallpaper phasing down to strewn pieces of paper across the hardwood floor, the window to her right still only showing the brick building and the small strip of sky above it, a smell emanating from the mattress as she pulled her legs closer to her body, brows furrowing as the scent filled her nose. It was musty, almost metallic…

Her eyes peered down to the diamond stitched figures across the mattress, the sight of slits accompanied by multiple continuously darkening stains screaming only one thing to her. The feeling of her heart pounding against her chest had started to reach her throat, her breaths coming ragged again. The sound of another lock being switched caught her attention, her eyes turning upwards and scaling the shape of his bent body as he lovingly looked down on her, whites of the eyes still bright even through the darkness, his knees slowly bending beneath him as he brought himself down to the floor and leaned onto the mattress.

"Thank you, that was quite helpful," he murmured, his legs digging into the mattress as his arms returned to his sides, his shoulders shrugging his coat off onto his arms, using one to gather the coat with and then throw off into the shadows of the room, the knife and keys banging loudly against the ground upon impact.

The buttoned up t-shirt he wore had the shapes of hexagons on it, the green vest over it snuggly fitted around his torso, his dark tie still done perfectly, his appearance tidy down to the fastened buttons that rested on the insides of his wrist. He positioned himself in front of her, his shoes squeaking slightly as they slid against the wood, his gloved thumb suddenly curled around the inside of her elbow and fingers against the rough skin of the outer side as she again closed her eyes, so afraid and so uncertain if she would ever leave this room alive. She couldn't help but notice, as he leaned closer to her, that his breathing had calmed.

"Look at me," he said, his voice quiet.

She could do nothing but shake her head as cold crept up her spine again, squeezing the last bit of tears from her eyes.

He continued to look at her, his eyes following the ridge of her nose and the curve of her jaw. His lips pressed together, eyes squinting slightly as he continued the staring game he'd begun earlier, unsatisfied with the closed lids before him.

"Why not?" he asked, the tip of his tongue slow against the back of his teeth as he pronounced the "t."

She was terrified to say anything, fear only growing in the span of time that he remained quiet, certain he was about to deal the killing blow to her any second now. She heard a large exhale of air pass through past his nostrils, feeling his gloved hand leave hers and graze her neck, sending nothing but further chills over her.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said, voice slowing to a pause, her eyes opening in the wake of those words.

He met her gaze. "I seem to be realizing I don't believe I would've escaped had it not been for you." The tenseness easing in his face, his mouth pulled into the one of the more legitimate smiles he'd had in months, lips parting again. "Those brake lights could've made me believe in God, I wouldn't return the favor with something as low as strangling you."

Her mind raced. Brake lights. The brake lights from her car as she'd been going over the speed bumps. He must've been running from outside the building into the parking structure and seen the car. But running from what? What had he done now?

He felt the grin fading from his face. She was so scared her brain seemed to be running on some kind of basic survival mode, listening intensely to every word that came from his mouth. He didn't want that, not now, not as his body began to catch up to it's trauma, images and events sinking in, muscles aching through to the bone, bruises forming as the adrenaline drained from him. He was glad to be out, but that's all he could say for the moment. Just as he'd thought he'd plunge to his death, the unbelieving laughter that came from his chest a reflex, he was yanked back and hung upside down on a rope, only to be surrounded by SWAT members that watched as the metal claw that should have continued to held his body detach from an above pole. His body nearly paralleling the still in construction building he fell from, his arms flailing to his sides, the screech of fear that went through his veins plunging with him as he passed several stories. The waving rope above him swung to the left, the metal claw colliding with scaffolding, flipping over and wedging itself against the steel, catching the scaffolding that violently jerked down as he was caught.

As the rope held him dangling again, unsteady and already feeling as it was sliding again, his body suddenly swung to the left. Expecting to collide with glass, he felt as the rope untangled itself from the scaffolding, his body sailing through the empty space surrounded by wood frames before falling on his side against hard ground. His breath seized in his chest, the impact knocking the wind from him, his mouth gaping open as he rolled onto his stomach, nearly fucking crying as his face rest against the unfurnished wood beneath him.

That… that…how… how the fuck did he get here? He was just hanging more than twenty stories off the ground, and now? His eyes scaled the room, city lights shinning through the unfinished floor he lie in. Breath returning to him, he scrambled to his feet, rushing towards the poorly crafted stairwell built by construction workers for easy access, his feet pounding loudly as he rushed down, gloved hands clutching the wood railing as he legs nearly shook out from under him, his teeth clenched shut as he began to jump down multiple steps to reach the ground he saw beneath him faster. He didn't need to see the swarm of police nearby to know they were here, guns drawn and attack dogs ready for whenever he would appear. Heart racing and breath becoming more scarce, he reached the last flight of stairs, tearing off away from any hint of flashing lights into the direction of dark, secluded buildings. The florescent lights of a familiar parking garage rest a block or so away from him. The sound of sirens becoming louder, he picked up the pace, running as fast as he could move his feet, his injured limbs barely cooperating.

He turned the corner into the garage, and there those bright red lights were… silver car, woman driving it, brake lights illuminated as she drove over speed bumps. Seeing she was nearly through the set he began to ran harder, throwing his arms into rhythm with his legs, trying to push himself faster through the air.

He lightly shook his head, realizing he'd broken eye contact with the girl. I thought you said not now. There's time for realizing what the fuck just happened later. He'd just come face to face with the barrels of guns and the ground rushing up at him, and now less than a half hour later, he could feel the warmth of breath against his cheeks, wide brown eyes now staring back at him, soft skin, the body turned towards his... no, he wasn't going to waste this.

She said nothing as his hands lightly pressed to the cuts made to her neck. He slowly leaned farther into her, pressing her back against the wall, a knee sliding between hers before momentarily withdrawing his hands and pulling off the gloves he then tossed to his side. His dirty, cracked nails catching a brief shimmer of light, he again pressed them against the scratches, index finger resting against her pulse as his other hand placed itself flat on his stomach, bare skin gliding across her clothed hip before digits searched for a crease in fabric, fingers dipping beneath fabric. She felt as small bumps rose on her skin, ache settling into her muscle as she tried to turn from him but came into contact with the fabric of his pants.

The flesh of her thigh rubbed against his knee, the warmth of her skin even more appealing. She shuddered when she'd realized what she'd done, her eyes drawn down to their joined knees, taking the opportunity to inch closer to her.

Before she could raise her head she heard the sound of him licking his lips, his tongue running across the corners of his mouth again, he began to speak. Her eyes dashed back onto his, his hand still resting on her hip.

"You look nervous."

He looked down on her, bringing his face to hers, his nose grazing against her forehead before he rested his cheek upon it. He could see her small frame curled, legs bent in different directions from under her gray skirt, her bright, long hair against the thin black shirt she was wearing. Her brown eyes were overcome with fear, pale skin scratched and bruised from the way he had handled her, how he had pulled her up the stairs. She was cold, she was frightened, she was certain he would kill her at any second – he knew she feared that the most. He couldn't blame her; it wouldn't be the first time he'd done such an impromptu thing. Feeling the shifting bones of her body beneath his hands, he glanced down, the fabric of her skirt having shifted upwards towards her waist, his eyes drawn immediately to the stain of faint pink scars across her thighs.

She felt his lips curl into a smile against her forehead before he pulled away.

Pressing his tongue to his teeth, he licked his lips as he dragged his nails across her scars, his forehead now burrowing into her chest.

"When did you get these?" he asked, thumb trailing one that extended particularly far to her inner thigh.

"A long time ago," she whispered, her lips cracked and throat dry, skin stiff and terrified as she stared forward above the mess of his hair, trying not to remember.

He closed his eyes, the lightest friction from his lashes brushing against her skin. He drug his calloused fingertips back over her hip, the other hand still caressing her throat, the cold, rough skin against her making her shiver, her muscles tensing again as he pressed his lips against her clavicle, tongue grazing the thin flesh between skin and bone. He skimmed his nails across the skin above her hip, his hand moving out from the fabric of her skirt and now to that of under her shirt, fingers tracing the lines of her ribcage as they came into contact with the soft fabric of her cup, now pulling his head away from her chest.

On her shirt he could see the residue of powder and makeup from his face, a white blur on an otherwise black landscape. He grinned, his vision slowly climbing from the long hair that rest on her shoulders to her face, to the eyes that remained welled with tears as they barely could look upon his face.

"You…" he said quietly, his hand following the curve of her body.

He saw her lips begin to quiver, her body cringing as cold fingers dug into her warm skin.

He couldn't help but say it now; it'd been so long since he'd even made a half assed compliment. "You are fucking gorgeous."

She said nothing, her eyes shutting again, the small tinge of regret and anger that passed through him at her reaction to something he meant. He couldn't remember the last time it was like this, and she was trying to get away from him, her elbows touching the wall behind her, head pulled down, avoiding his advances… that alone would have been enough to gut her. Irises flittering between hers again, he tried to remember what had just possessed him to say such a stupid thing.

The last thing she wants to hear from you is how beautiful she think she is. What the fuck do you think she's got going through her head right now? She'd of called the cops if she could, his hands again cuffed behind him and brought to sit in the heckling group of other recently inducted inmates. He shook his head, disgust pooling in his stomach. She was no different from the last person he'd embedded a bullet in, and he sure as hell hadn't brought her here for show, but there was something off here. Maybe it was because she'd just saved his life, and he was about to destroy hers.

Maybe if I don't go so rough…

He brought his hands to her face again, cupping it gently, trying his hardest to not do the usual routine of just pinning the bitch down and having at it. She wasn't fighting him. She hadn't sworn, hit, kicked, tried to escape once – just a scream, involuntary flinches. Typical for someone just having been kidnapped, now with the hands of a known murderer dragging his fingers across her throat. She knew who he was, and she wasn't going to do anything but listen to him.

Good enough, it was more than anyone in the past handful of days had done.

Drawing her face closer to his, he grimaced as he saw her lids still painfully squeezed shut.

"Look at me," he said again, fingers around her neck starting to tense.

She couldn't, not even if she hadn't truly wanted to. She just couldn't pry her eyes open. She was scared of the tears she felt welled up behind them spilling out, her shaking jaw, her stiff limbs, everything that showed him clearly just how intimidated she was.

When she didn't comply with yet another request, the frustration in him boiled to anger, his hand seizing her neck and nearly flattening it to the wall. He could feel beneath his fingers the quivering muscle, air momentarily choked down into her throat as her mouth opened, the first cry since they'd met coming from her strained chords.

"LOOK AT ME," he roared, breath bouncing off her forehead, the horrifying sound of his voice so perfectly matching the one that she'd heard on the news.

Her eyes opened, tears indeed rolling down her cheek as she looked forward, meeting the glare that bore down on her. She didn't know what to do, what to say besides the sudden "I'm sorry…" that passed her lips, her eyes purposely fixed on his, making a point of not breaking contact again.

If he gets what he wants he'll let you go. He said he wouldn't kill you… if he really wanted to, why would he drag it out this long? And why kill her? She'd never met him before, she had never wronged him. She didn't have one clue he existed until his repeat offenses showed up in the papers. She wasn't even from this fucking city…

Sorry? "For what?" he asked. He wanted to hear her say it, say something, say anything, any noise but the whimpers that came from her.

Her gaze held steady. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry I didn't listen…" she spoke, the vibration of her vocal chords feeling so good against his palm.

"You have so far," he murmured, a corner of his mouth curling into a grin, eyes still set upon hers as he released his fingers.

The warmth in the pit of his stomach grew as he felt her thigh grazing against his, her knee turning in a sharp angle and digging into his skin, an obvious attempt to put distance between them proving futile as he couldn't have held her more pinned to that wall even if he'd used the multiple knives in his pockets. He briefly looked down again before pursuing his intentions, the deep scars on her legs still screaming at him as he pressed his lips to hers.

The relief of his hands off her neck had dissipated into the urge to squirm and scream again as he kissed her, merely applying pressure to her mouth. She lowered her head, the sudden motion separating the two as her lips parted to take in a small gasp, the action met with the gentle capture of soft flesh between his. Her lids involuntarily fluttered shut. She felt hands gently resting on her shoulders, free of clawing or trying to restrain her, nothing but the weight of his palms. She could feel the deep, thick lines of scars, the little bit of sweat that hung to his upper lip now on hers as his angle deepened, his tongue sliding into her mouth, the intrusion sending another shiver through her body.

He's… so warm, she thought, the rest of the words spinning through her head forming choppy and incoherent. The dominating muscle massaged her tongue gently, breath heating her lips and teeth, the feeling of his hands sliding from her shoulders and down her arms to her elbows nonexistent as the assault continued, head tilting backwards as he lured over her. She accommodated his motions, only because she feared more what he would do if she didn't.

His chest came against hers, the warmth that crawled over his sincerely welcomed as the thought of the last time he'd gotten so close to someone without the pure goal of witnessing their last breath, much less some beautiful, frightened girl. It almost made him feel guilty knowing where this would end. He wondered if she would call the police, say he'd kidnapped and raped her before blindfolding her and dropping her at the edge of town, leaving her further scarred and carjacked. He'd done what he'd always done, abandon the victim far away and drive the car back relatively close to this building, leaving it unlocked with the keys in the ignition for whatever lucky thief found it first. He knew first hand who lurked in the dark around these blocks. Seemed a little cruel to do all that to this girl he hadn't so much had gotten back talk from, to fuck up the rest of her life for his few hours, but ah, no one ever said life was fair.

His hand dropped from the crook of her arm and to her knees, his fingers prying apart the leg that dug into his before creeping forward, nails again skimming across scars before tips felt the warm material of her underwear. He felt her tensing muscles as he dove into a deeper kiss, cold fingers engulfing in heat as she squirmed, another gasp muffled by his mouth. Slowly wiggling those digits, his chest still pressed against hers, he separated their lips so he could hear the pants from her throat, gasps becoming all that more vocal as he rested his head upon her shoulder and closed his eyes.

It had never been like this before, this close. Usually the girl fought and screamed, bit his lips, scratched and swore her revenge between cries of pain as he held her against the floor, barely any time to actually enjoy the fucking event between holding her down and keeping her quiet. And every time it ended nearly the same… he clasped his hands over mouth, around her throat, choking out every last breath until the very color of her eyes faded out. They always fought, they always threatened, one broad going so far as trying to attack him with one of his own blades. That mistake - grinning at the new memory of the girl beneath him's wide eyes as she saw the slits and stains in his mattress - had been very short lived.

Her breath was ragged, body trembling once more, small words beginning to fall from her mouth as his fingers continued forward. He brought his face against hers, smothering whatever pleas she tried to get out with his mouth, returning to the same deep kiss he'd broken away from. He released her elbow, his now free arm hooking around her back, bringing her closer against his body and away from the wall before he lowered them to the mattress, other hand retreating from beneath her skirt and cushioning her head. One of his legs still remained locked between hers, now prying open space for the other to join in spreading hers.

Her heart pounded so badly against her it was making her head ache, it nearly having jumped up her throat as he had moved his legs. He hadn't even acknowledged she'd spoken. There was no way out of this. Reality caving in all at once, she couldn't stomach it, she couldn't breathe, eyes held shut as she felt his fingertips twirled around her hair. She felt so helpless all she could do was not cry, not give him the satisfaction of her reaction. She wanted to scream stop, to please don't, she had cash and other valuables at her house… he'd know where she lived but she could move… this was her body, and already… already…

He tugged tightly on her bottom lip, releasing it and letting her catch the first breath of air she could ever remember taking at this point. Her lids opened, again meeting his gaze.

He chuckled a little before raising the hand he'd used to cradle her head to swipe away the lose strands of hair that had fallen over her face, again lowering it and running fingertips over her hip.

"Please tell me that was as good for you as it was for me," he whispered, wanting again to hear anything but a whimper from her.

Again, nothing. Frustration climbing again, he slid his hand into his pocket, flipping open a blade that cut into her throat, breaking the skin as she screamed. He closed his eyes, teeth all but grinding together, indenting the blade deeper.

"Say it, say it was," he growled, head shaking with the anger that tightly gripped him. When silence again greeted him, with no hesitation he slowly began to drag the blade, the girl screaming again. Grabbing a fistful of her hair and jerking it towards him, he roared into her face again, "SAY IT!"

"It was!" she screamed, cries stifled in her throat, blood welling from the sharp pain in her neck.

"Don't lie to me," he said through his clenched teeth, applying more pressure, intent on further dragging the blade. "Was it?"

"It was, it was," she replied, voice raw as she stared up, stinging pain coursing through her neck.

"How good…" he asked, her head falling backwards and away from the blade when he let go of her hair, free hand again wandering to her hips, fingers grasping the fabric beneath him and tugging it down, slowly pulling the skirt off of her body.

Tears poured out of her eyes, vision scrambling to the ceiling, desperately trying to see anything but his hovering face. She didn't care if he saw anymore how much she struggled under him; he was going to kill her. He was going to take his time with her alive before disposing of her body in whatever fashion he saw fit.

Again the knife returned to her throat, this time provoking no cry.

"I believe I asked you a question," he murmured.

She just wanted to live through this. "So good," she whispered.

A laugh rumbled through his throat, lips curling into a smile. "You mean it?"

"Every word," she said breathily, the blade in her skin agonizing and the wounds stinging so badly she couldn't breathe.

He nodded. "Mm, so, having enjoyed that so much, you think you're up for another round?"

His laughter beating her response, she felt her skirt being yanked away, an index finger wriggling under and hooking to her underwear before unevenly descending down her thighs and over her knees. The cotton sliding down might as well have been made of the same sharp material as the blade still at her neck; the feeling provoked a similar reaction. His mouth came to hers again, inciting the same struggle as before, tongue running across her lips before plunging deeper. Her lids slid shut, the cold air that breathed against her bare skin reminding her of where she was and who she was pinned under.

She felt his hands come to her chest, fingers unfastening the buttons of her shirt before he pushed it back towards her arms. If he couldn't hear her unsteady breaths, he sure as hell could see them now. She was still panting, still terrified.

so! hopefully there's somebody who likes this enough to review. This is the farthest I've gotten with the story so far, just wondering if I should continue it? Let me know, I'll nonetheless be writing out at least two more chapters but I'd love any feedback, suggestions, stories you want me to check out, whatever you want to throw at me I have time haha. Also yeah, I do mean rated M for a reason - the story doesn't purely consist of this situation we're in right now, it will be further developing past this scene but in general, hey, you saw The Dark Knight, y'know how dark it got. thank you so much again for reading, if you stick around for the entire story I promise you'll like it.
-p.