Do You Wanna KNow How I Got These Scars? - The Dark Knight Competition

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Please do not read if you are faint hearted or do not wish to read disturbing horrific stories.

- This is my entrance to the dark knight competiton. I hope you click the like it buttons as the competition is judged by how many like's you get. So please if you like it do so. I hope you enjoy learning how the joker really got his scars :)

The door creaked open with the hinges, which had not been oiled in many years, breaking the silence. It was the only light the room had seen in three or four days, and much like the vampires I had seen oh so often on television, I ducked my head away from the intruding light, placing my hand on my eyes with a small parting through which I could peer. In came the man, the man and his friend.
When one entered the room, such as the two men had just done, they would find the bed I was now positioned on in the far left hand corner, a wooden frame with an extremely springy mattress that made far to much noise to be able to sleep on, both a food and water bowl at the edge of the bed (which had been empty going on a day now), an old cabinet to the right and solitude. Surrounding the bed was a metal cage, made specifically to keep something from getting out, that something being myself. However, the cage was merely a precautionary effort at my expense as I was also confined to the bed by leather straps and metal chains. At both my ankles and stomach I was bound by leather straps and my face, well my face was bound by fish hooks on the end of metal chains. Two fish hooks were placed carefully in both corners of my mouth so I couldn’t make the slightest move with my head. The hooks, chains and straps kept my head faced purely towards the men and what would happen next.
The first man, who’s name Stanton, I had caught on previous encounters, entered the metal cage, making a significantly quieter creak than the door had. The second man, who had left the room earlier, walked back in holding a chair in which he placed outside of the cage and then sat down, crossing his legs as he did so. The look on his face was a mix of pleasure and deviance. A deadly combination. Stanton glanced over at the other man and winked. I had seen that same wink only a week ago when he had driven past me walking along the sidewalk in his van. It was only an hour after that very first wink that I had found myself trapped inside a garbage bag in the back of that same van. fifteen years old, trapped and alone. Urine staining my pants and tainting the new car smell of the van.
Stanton turned back to me, now kneeling over my body on top of the bed on all fours. He was reaching his arm around the bed, to untie the straps binding my body, so his head was rested safely on my chest. After he had untied the straps he carefully removed the fish hooks and threw the chains to the ground. He then, with a much more violent set of aggressive actions spun me around so my head was firmly indented into the concrete pillow, blood trickling from a reopened cut which had only fully healed that day. He then pulled my pants down and threw them to the ground alongside the chains. I began to cry, sobbing, begging, begging for the man to let me go. But surely enough, he began. I closed my eyes and pretended to be somewhere else. It hurt so much. I was screaming, but no matter how loud the screaming got I could still hear the man outside of the cage laughing between sudden outbursts such as:
“Its my turn”
“Hurry up I wanna Shot”
I didn’t know what to do. What was their that I could do but scream. Scream and cry. Suddenly I felt the weight shift on top of me. They must’ve swapped over because the laughing was now right in my ears. This man was much heavier so the pain was now unbearable. The pain escaped my mouth and eyes through tears and screams. The man reached down and hit me with full force but it only made me cry louder. He was still going when his patience finally reached an end. He pulled my head up by a lock of my hair and snapped it back into the bed. He did this several times until I finally fell into unconsciousness.
I awoke, with the room spinning anti-clockwise around me. The blurry images of the two men towering above me. Looking at me laughing, pointing. Patting each other on the shoulder.
“Next time you cry, next time you scream, next time you move, I’ll kill you” Stanton said in a sadistic voice, the hate in his eyes cutting through me like a knife through butter.
The second man whispered something in Stanton’s ear and then turned away, walking toward the door whilst leaving the metal cage. I was rebound like before with but one exception. My head was the only thing bound. However so, the fishhooks also felt much tighter, grazing the inside of my mouth while blood escaped the open cavities of the wounds they had now formed. The blood, although slowly, was filling up my mouth and I was beginning to choke on it, gagging ever so slightly. Stanton could see this, the pain in my eyes escaping unwillingly. He only Laughed with that deviant smirk he had greeted me with everyday this week. I tried to hold it back but couldn’t, and a single tear trickled down my cheek, halting at the edge of my premature chin, ready to drop off.
“What the fuck did I tell you kid,” he said as he punched me square in the ribs. I let out a scream as my head jolted in reaction to the punch, pulling on the fishhooks slightly. The blood began to flow from the wounds more rapidly as I could no longer control the tears escaping.
Stanton turned around laughing. I knew what he was doing. He was getting his friend so that they could enjoy killing me together. Fear came over me and with a sudden move I ripped my self off of the bed, the fishhooks tearing through the flesh binding the top and bottom bones of my jaw. Blood shot out from either side like fireworks and I screamed at a deafening pitch and ferocity. The adrenalin was the only thing keeping me going as I jumped from the bed onto Stanton’s back. The unexpectedness of the leap surprised Stanton as my weight placed him head first in a face plant against the cage. The blood from my mouth pouring onto his now unconscious body, painting his short black hair red. I grabbed the fishhooks from the floor, which were covered in my blood, and in an outburst of ferocious rage, revenge on my mind, placed the fishhooks in his mouth and ripped. I then stabbed them through each of his eyes and pulled back tightly. The metal cage was now filled with blood. The white tiled floors coated in red.
Stanton lied there motionless. I stood staring when suddenly the silence was broken by the second man rushing into the room. The commotion must have alerted him of the situation. He lunged at me. In my defense I raised the fishhooks in front of me but it prevented nothing. The man was now on top of me, pounding into my chest. The pain from my mouth was overpowering my will to live and I was sure I was about to die. But, in one last surge of life, I ripped my arms up from under the mans weight and stabbed the fishhooks into either side of his neck. Twisting and pulling until they had swapped sides. All that’s was left was a large gash through the front of his neck as his blood spurted onto my face. I was free.
I stumbled out from under the man and staggered my way towards the door. I continued limping through the house, the pain poisoning my veins into giving up. I stammered up to the front door and turned it. I pushed the door open with what energy I had left and then walked out onto the busy city street. People turned in horror as I fell to the sidewalk, blood seeping from my body into the concrete. At that moment, with a network of crowded streets occupied by hundreds of onlookers, I fell asleep. For how long, I would possibly never know.

Submitted: February 19, 2009

© Copyright 2022 Seth Marks. All rights reserved.

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