His Trophy | Jerome Valeska

twenty four

Rory looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her old clothes. They were baggy and as she looked at herself, she realised how much weight she had lost from being in captivity. The fabric seemed to swallow her.

Her stomach wound had healed, she could move easily now with ease. Her arm still burned from Jerome's carving, the bandage keeping the letters covered and out of sight. Rory couldn't look at herself for long, or else she would start to panic. Thoughts of her father, of the curse, of what she had done to herself would come flooding back if she stared herself in the eye. She only stood in the mirror to make sure she was still there, not to look at herself. The girl that looked back, all though strange and unfamiliar was still a comfort to see. She was glad to know she hadn't faded out of existence.

She looked at Lola through the mirror who was looking at herself nervously, she too had lost weight. The two women were ghosts of themselves. Rory knew what she was thinking. Now that Rory has healed, Lola was no longer needed by Jerome.

"I don't think I'm going to get out of here, Rory," she said.

Rory turned from the mirror sharply with a frown. Both of them knew deep down that Lola's time was running out, but neither of them wanted to let go of the possibility of escaping. Rory walked over to the nurse and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

"We'll get through this Lola, we'll look back on this in ten years and know that everything was okay in the end." Rory comforted. 

Lola turned to look at her, tears in her eyes. 

"God I hope that happens." She said, her voice wavering as she started to cry. 

"So do I," Rory responded. 

The two of them embraced and held each other. Rory knew that she wouldn't escape Jerome. That hope had left her when he had carved his initials into her. She had made her bed with him and now she must lie with him. But she hoped that Lola could get out of this, at least one of them would get that chance of leading a normal life again. 

Their hug was cut short when the door of the small, dank room opened. One of Jerome's henchmen stood in the doorway. He had bright blue hair that was spiked up in a long mohawk. Rory could see the faint glow of insanity around him.

"You need to come with me," he said bluntly. 

The two women let go of each other. Rory hadn't been outside of that small room and as she stepped through the door, a wave of anxiety crashed over her. She was completely exposed now, Jerome could do anything to her. 

They followed the blue-haired henchman through a maze of corridors. All of them were dark and grey. Every now and then they would walk past an iron door, that looked like a prison cell. All around them they could hear yelling and laughter, the echos of madness were everywhere. The further away from the room they got, the more afraid Rory grew. 

Rory's heart was in her throat. 

Then the henchman stopped. They were standing outside a wide door. Unlike the others that they had passed this one was wooden and painted purple. 

"He's waiting for you in there," the blue-haired boy giggled before opening the door. 

Rory and Lola were hesitant to enter, both of them terrified as to what was going to happen. From the back of the room, the two could hear chatter. Jerome's voice cackling louder over the rest of the men that were surrounding him.