His Trophy | Jerome Valeska

twenty eight

"Good morning!" Jerome's shrill voice woke Rory. She came too slowly, the grogginess from sleep still clouding her mind. She felt warm and comfortable. When she realised where she was, that feeling of comfort left her and it was replaced with a tightening feeling.

She was in Jerome's bed.

Jerome was hoovering over her, his face unbelievably close to hers. He wasn't wearing a shirt, only red satin pyjama trousers. His nakedness only made Rory feel more uncomfortable as her mind began to race.

Jerome, who was leaning over Rory, didn't seem to be bothered by her discomfort. In fact, he was totally happy. Underneath him was the girl of his dreams, his new wife, and with her by his side he could get revenge on everyone who wronged him.

He let out a giggle as he saw Rory's terror.

"What, not a morning person, Rory?" he sneered as he leaned closer to her. Before she had the chance to respond, Jerome quickly pressed his lips against hers.

But the kiss only lasted a few seconds before Jerome rolled off of Rory and out of the bed.

Rory, was now completely bewildered. She had no recollection of how she had gotten into Jerome's bed, or what had happened for the last couple of days. All she could remember were flashes of music and colour.

"How did I get here Jerome?" she asked as she started to look at where she was.

The bed that Rory was lying in, was a small twin bed. It was pushed up against a yellow wall that had a plethora of graffiti stained onto it. On the side of the bed was a worn down bedside table which had nothing but a tattered lamp standing on it. The room overall was small. But bigger than the room Rory had spent the last month in with Lola. There was a wardrobe directly across from the bed, pushed up against the far wall. It, like the rest of the items in the room, was beaten down and aged. The doors were barely holding onto their hinges, and one of them had lost the handle.

Jerome was now standing by the closet, stretching. She watched him as he moved, he had changed so much since those days at the circus, it was like he was a completely different person, both mentally and physically. He seemed amused by Rory's question and turned to face her.

"Don't tell me you can't remember!" he sneered as he smiled.

"Remember what, Jerome?" Rory responded sternly, as she slowly sat up.

"Our wedding!" he announced, growing his hands out with grandeur. He then quickly frowned.

"I knew I should have filmed it," he joked as he approached Rory again.

She was in disbelief. Her heart had quickened in pace as she took in his words. She couldn't have married Jerome, no way could she have gone through with it.

He sat down on her the side of the bed, and quickly grabbed her left hand. This caused her to wince. A sharp pain shot through her.

"See, we've even got the rings to prove it," he smiled.

Jerome held Rory's left hand and held it next to his. A gold wedding band had been melted into both of their ring fingers.

"No," Rory gasped as she started at her fingers.

"I know it's a bit dramatic," Jerome said as he toke Rory's hand, "but I can't have you loosing that, Rory."

There was a knock at the door, which made Jerome's turn away from Rory.

"What!" Jerome yelled.

The door opened cautiously and the head of one of Jerome's followers popped around it. They looked nervous as they saw Rory and Jerome.

"Everything is ready to go, Jerome," they muttered.

Jerome stared down his lackey, an evil smile stretched his face and he sat up from the bed.

"Perfect!" he exclaimed.

He then turned back to Rory.

"Time to get this show started!"