Terror In Gotham City

Chapter 4

*Accalia*

The smell of alcohol and cigarettes are the first things to hit me as I step into the trailer. It's a perfume that lingers on all who enter here, and it's one that is hard to remove. It's bitter and eye watering if you're not used to it, and it catches in your throat when you try to breathe - an attempt to suffocate no matter who the unwilling victim is. Aside from the stench, the trailer is unnaturally clean. There are no shards of broken glass, cigarette butts, or even blood stains anywhere on the walls or floor; the washing has been done and put away; the couches are even clean.

Jerome notices my gaze sweeping the trailer. "It looks different, doesn't it?"

"Is this what you were talking about earlier?" I ask with a stiff voice. "She made you clean the entire trailer? This was the whole 'nothing too bad' comment?"

"Half of it." He pulls off his shirt and my eyes instantly zone in on the bruises covering his body. "This is the other half."

"Ginger." I lightly run my blood stained fingers over the purple bruises. They're not as bad as usual, but they're still bad. "Damn it."

"I'm fine, Cali. I promise."

"You don't look fine. You look half dead!"

His hand grips the one of mine that's tentatively tracing the bruise on his torso. I fight the instinct to wince when his fingers graze over the gash on my palm, but he notices the pain flare in my eyes. Jerome turns my hand over and glares down at the wound, his eyes darkening in rage. Tightening his hold slightly, he drags me into his room, slamming the door shut behind us and then turning to me with possessiveness and pure, unadulterated rage glowing in his green eyes.

His hands deftly remove his jacket from my body, quickly followed by my shirt. His gaze runs over my body, finding the wounds that the intruder left on my body this morning. Aside from the gashes, he notices the bruises from where the intruder had launched himself onto me. When noticing them, Jerome's eyes take on a whole new level of rage that I wasn't sure existed. His hands ball into fists and his chest heaves as he fights to steady his breathing and stop from breaking something.

"I'm fine, Ginger," I assure, gently touching his arm. "I promise."

His hands grasp my wrists and pins me to the wall, his dark eyes boring into mine. "He touched something that wasn't his to touch. He hurt someone who didn't deserve it. He hurt someone I care about. That can never be forgiven."

"Don't go getting all possessive of me. I am not yours either. Keep that little fact in mind, psycho."

"Oh. Did I hit a nerve? Don't like being tied down, do you?"

"I am no one's possession. I am not a thing for someone to keep locked away."

"Is that so, Accalia?"

I glare into his green eyes, not backing down. "Back the hell off, Jerome."

He moves his mouth to my ear, his warm breath hitting my cool skin. "Is that really what you want, little terror?

I shudder at the tone in his voice and dig my nail into my palms, fighting the urge to give in to what he is insinuating. A chill sweeps my body as his lips brush against the sensitive skin below my ear, and my eyes flutter closed at the sensation, my body acting of its own accord. It presses itself against Jerome and I hear him chuckle, his grip tightening on my wrists. I grit my teeth and force my body away from his. I am not his.

Building up my strength, I shove my body against his with enough force that he releases my wrists and stumbles back a few steps, creating a nice distance between us. His green eyes glitter with amusement as they stare into my blue-green ones. He knew that I would force him off, and that I would have a hard time bringing myself to do so. Despite everything we've been through as friends, there has always been this underlying sexual tension between us.