His Trophy | Jerome Valeska

eleven

Rory didn't dream. She only heard faint voices, like she was listening through a thick window. Words like concussion and stitches floated about, but she couldn't make out anything else, it all just sounded like mumbling. She tried to hear better, so she approached the sound, but it seemed that no matter how far she got, the noise would always sound so far away. She didn't even realise she was unconscious just that she couldn't hear what was going on, and she wanted to because her name would ring around her like a bell.

It was her fathers voice which woke he up. He was holding her hand gently and talking softly to her. Asking her to stay strong and to not worry. Something about her being safe but again his voice was distant. Even when she opened her eyes and came back to consciousness, people seemed so far away.

The light hurt her eyes when she first opened them and they were dry and scratchy. Like waking up with an intense hangover. Jim seemed to flinch when he saw her move, something seemed to scare him as he watched her wake up, but she didn't focus on why. She only focused onto why her head hurt.

"Rory?" Jim spoke as if his voice would crack her.

She grumbled in response. She felt weak and drained, her energy was low. As she slowly took in her surroundings, finally releasing where she was. Hospital? she thought. Because of my head? She moved to rest her head in her hand but pain in her wrist stopped her mid way. She looked at her hands. there were bracelets of deep cuts and purple bruising. How did that happen? she thought looking at her hands with a frown.

"Was I in an accident?" was the first thing she asked. But the image of a car crash didn't seem to be right.

Jim sighed and lent back in his chair.

"No, Rory, this wasn't any accident," he replied.

Not an accident. So what happened? She started to try and reach for the memories, looking at her wrists with intensity. As if she had had a bucket of water thrown in her face, the mortifying image of Jerome flashed in front of her. Chills ran down her spine as more images of that night came back to her. Feelings, smells, all the colourful lights and auras that had made her feel sick. Jerome's green flames taking over everything, even her.

"He came back to life!" she said with a more urgent tone. She was terrified of him. The words that he had said to her before she passed out came back to her like a loud roar. I think you're starting to like me...

Rory grabbed Jim's hands with fear and she started to tear up.

"Please tell me you killed him," she begged as she held her fathers hands.

Jim, who had been taken aback by Rory's sudden burst of energy, held onto his daughters hands and looked at her. Somehow, he seemed to feel guilty that Jerome hadn't been killed.

"He's been locked away in Arkham Asylum," he said, deflating as he watched Rory's fears quicken.

"He's still- he can still get to me," Rory sobbed.

Jim hugged her quickly when he said this, sadness and worry filled his heart when she said this. As he embraced his step-daughter he told her that no one would get near her, that he would keep her safe no matter what.

But no matter what he said, the feeling of uncertainty and paranoia swirled through her mind and chest. She knew that she could never be free from him, especially with her curse. Even if she did escape Jerome, another psycho would become obsessed with her and they could be worse than him. She sobbed in her fathers arms as her thoughts ran wild with terror. How could she be free from insanity if insanity seemed to be the only thing that she could see?