Pp:
"Thank you for making this place a not even worse hell hole."
Wilow's pov
I sit up on the bed and stare out the window and watch the rain. It's dark but I can still see the rain drops. I stand up and look at the digital clock on my dresser.
"12:07 am"
I walk to the doors to enter my room and use the same technique I did last night to sneak out. I check my back pocket to make sure I have my three knives as the overkill I need. Both of them in check. I really wish I didn't forget my phone because he didn't even take my first knife from me so he wouldn't have taken my phone.
I know I shouldn't go out but I need to find resources to escape while earning his trust. If he trusts me enough he might start unlocking my door me not get suspicious of me not being in there. I walk to the stairs and slide down the railing like once before. I hop off and look around. It's pretty dark actually, much darker than yesterday. None of the lights are on...
I look left and right and see no one. I move as fast as I can left and look at all of the rooms. Most of the doors are closed so I can't see much.
"Ha ha ha..."
I follow the voice to find the owner of it. I think it's Joker. I turn the corner and see a room with a bunch of tables and chairs and a bar. Only one person resides there, and he already saw me. I turn around to run but I'm grabbed by the back of my shirt and turned to face him. He drags me back in the room and throws me down on a chair, sits next to me and takes a swig of alcohol from a bottle.
"Wannnn some?" He gestures the bottle to me but I push it back to him. "Mmmore for meee!"
He's drunk. He starts laughing for no reason and pats my head. "You're a gooood dollll."
"You're drunk."
"Haha, you're a drunk doll."
I sigh at his actions seeing how immature this criminal can be. He puts his hand on my thigh and I stare at his face intensely.
"What're you doing?"
"Whadya mean doll face?" He hisses.
"You're touching me. Why?"
"Becauuuuuse you're a doll." He enunciates the 'L'.
"What does that have to do with you touching me?"
"You're beautiful like a dollll."
"W-what?" I clear my throat and push his hand away but he puts it back.
"You have porcelain skin... Haiiir... Teeeeeth..."
"Ummm... Just to tell you... That's kind of pedophilia..."
"I watcheeed you for a while nowwww. Even before you came heereee..."
"Stalker much?" I continue my feeble attempts to push his hand off of me.
He takes another swig of his alcohol and finishes the tall bottle. He throws it at the wall and it dents and the glass shatters against the wall. He lazily turns his head towards me and gives a lazy grin.
"Soooo... You come here often?"
"I squint my eyes at him and glare. I slowly put my hand up in front of me in the form of a fist.
"Whatreeeee you doinnnn?" He's a horrible drunk, he's a stereotypical drunk.
I slowly raise my middle finger while still glaring. He laughs loudly and leans back with a hand on his stomach. He wipes a tear away with his pointer finger and chuckles lowly.
"I see why evvvvveryone likes you! I meaaan, I would be jealous if I wasn't meeeee and had you for my own."
I put my hand down and stand up abruptly. He reaches his hand out to grab me but I pull back and he just brushes my thigh. I grab a knife out and point it at him. This is my perfect chance. I press it against his heart area and he raises his hands in defense and keeps smiling.
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Try to dolllll face. I knowwww you won't. You're tooooooooooo scared!"
His voice raises in pitch on the word 'too'. I press it slightly to just make his bare chest spill a single drop of blood. I watch as it slides down his chest leaving a red trail of itself... This is what I call the tears of crimson. Every time you are hurt to the point of blood, you are just crying. Which shows he is alive... Like, me...
I push a little deeper and close my eyes shut tight. I feel tears swell up in my eyes as I push agonizingly slower. I know he's my abductor but I don't think I could kill someone who hasn't really physically hurt me. I pull the knife out and watch as more crimson tears spill down his chest, to his stomach, to his lower region. I stare at the red stains on his chest and feel a tear slide down my face.
Why am I crying? I don't even like this man. I wipe the knife on my jeans and wipe away my clear salty water droplet. I throw the knife on the floor in frustration. I stomp on it repeatedly and watch as the blade breaks off the handle. I kick it to the wall and glare at the two pieces.
"I tolllld you!!"
I grip the hair on top of my head and tug on it. "Piece of shit. It's your fault..." I look back at the man after saying that and stare daggers at him instead of putting one in him.
"What?" He narrows his eyes and raises an eyebrow.
"IT'S YOUR FUCKING FAULT! I WOULDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT HURTING SOMEONE IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU! YOU'RE A FUCKING SICKO YOU KNOW?! INSANE BASTARD WHO NEEDS SOME FUCKING BRAINS IN HIS HEAD! LET ME THE FUCK GO AND JUST STOP DOING THIS SHIT!"
He looks taken back by my rant. I don't want to be here. I hate it. I feel like a fucking tool. He wouldn't want me if I didn't have all of the connections and 'popularity' I have. I kick the table to its side and watch as glasses shatter into a million pieces.
"OH AND WHEN YOU HAVE A FUCKING HANGOVER AND CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER THIS WHY DON'T YOU FUCK YOURSELF TOO?!"
He smirks and laughs even louder than he has yet. He stands up and wipes the Crimson off his chest. "Hahaha, you thought I was drunk..."
His smile drops and he walks closer to me. I back up a little and stumble back onto a table when he backs me up there. My back pressed up against the wood and he puts his arms on either side of me. He leans closer and whispers in my ear,
"The things I said... They were all true."
He stands back and leans forward but this time, his lips land on mine.
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