sightless.

13: Perfect Illusion

Song: Perfect Illusion by Lady Gaga

Amy slowly came conscious, but she wanted to just go back to sleep.  They were up all night last night exploring each other and how far they could push one another.  Sex was never like that.  She could feel a delicious ache in her lady parts, almost bordering on pain.  He was oh so rough with her, but then he was amazingly gentle with her.  She went to stretch and felt his strong arm over her waist and his heavy thigh over her hip.  She could feel his breath tickling the back of her neck.  He was holding her so tight, she thought he would never let go. 

She opened her eyes, and the most amazing thing happened.  She could see light.  There was color.  The room was somewhat blurry, but that was ok.  She would take what she could get.  She could see the deep violet of the satin sheets she laid on, and she could see that there was a window on the other side of the room that was letting in the morning light.  She let her eyes adjust further and saw that there were creamy colored plush drapes filtering what little light they could.  She then looked down at the arm covering her middle.  It was deathly pale, with tattoos covering the whole arm.  A strong male hand covered her stomach, but she knew something was wrong with the sight that met her.  It wasn't the hand she pictured.  It was almost the opposite of what she pictured. 

She then made out the smile tattooed on the back of that hand covering her mid-section.  She froze. It was a smile tattoo that she saw multiple times on the news.  Her heart plummeted into her now-churning stomach.  He's an impersonator.  Please be an impersonator.  She knew that no one could impersonate that deathly pale skin, though.  She knew it without a doubt and still wanted to deny it. 

She slowly dared to roll over and saw a hint of green at the top of his head.  She knew it right then, she was living a nightmare.  She pulled herself out from under his arm and jumped out of the bed, shrieking.  This caused his eyes to shoot open.  He shot up and yelled, "What's wrong?  What happened?" as if he was concerned.  He isn't concerned.  He doesn't know the meaning of the word.  He looked up and saw that she was staring him straight in the eye. 

She saw a quick look pass over his face.  Regret.  Anger.  Sadness.  Loss.  She blew it off as annoyance or frustration for waking him up, anything but a real feeling towards the situation.  He doesn't know how to feel regret or sadness. 

He slowly lounged back on the pillows again, and a smile crept across his tattooed and pale visage.  She could see pure enjoyment stealing into his eyes with them plastered to hers.  He put his hands behind his head and slowly drew out the words, "Morning, kitten."

She slammed her eyes shut against his naked, beautiful form splayed on the pillows, against his delight with the situation.  She welcomed the dark—the comforting, blissfully ignorant blackness of not being able to see him.  Just yesterday, she was cursing the darkness that was her sight.  Now?  Now she wanted it back with a desperation that bordered on insanity. 

Then he finally laughed the laugh that evaded her the entire time she was lost in the dream of the last couple days.  She now knew her answer for why he kept stemming his laughter, for why his joy evaded her.  It started as a quiet laugh but built until it was a roaring echo that swallowed the whole room.  It blended with her fast, erratic, pounding heartbeat. 

It was her turn to experience regret, anger, sadness, loss.  Just hours ago, she thought that maybe this could turn into a relationship.  The despair threatened to consume her.  This isn't fair.  Please make it be a nightmare.  Please, God.  I'm begging you.  The laughing stopped, and she realized she was speaking out loud.

She slowly peeked her left eye open, and whatever he was thinking disappeared.  He told her, "You can call me Mr. J, J, but I will accept God, too.  It's fitting since I was a sex god last night, wasn't I, kitten?"  Again with that metal smile.  And he is so not allowed to call me kitten.

She was frozen.  He was laughing at her.  She knew the despair was blatantly written across her face, and he was teasing her.  She could feel the bile rising in her throat, but what's more, she could feel the anger rising.  It was a concentrated, wicked creature threatening to rip out of her chest.  How dare he rob me of my hopes and dreams to be with this Jason character?  How dare he pretend to give a fuck this whole time?  How dare he make me fall in love with the Joker? 

She let her anger loose in all its glory.  She didn't care that he was naked.  She didn't care about her nudity.  She didn't care that even though he was a monster, he still looked good enough to eat, lounging back on the pillows.  She didn't care that his tattoos accentuated every muscle in his long, lean torso that she dug her nails into and felt moving above her as he slowly and so sweetly slid in and out of her last night.  She jumped on the bed and her fists met that chiseled chest with a fury that rivaled any she'd seen before.  She could feel the tears forming in her eyes, and she didn't care enough to keep them from falling.   She didn't know which emotion brought them forth—she suspected it was her sadness at what she felt was a monumental loss, but instead called it anger. 

He brought his arms up and around her back and pulled her into his chest to stop her from beating on him, but she just screeched and starting kicking out at his legs.  He didn't do what she expected.  She expected a punch in the face or a push to the ground.  She wanted him to show his true colors; she wanted him to make her hate him.  Instead, he wrapped his long legs around hers and held her still. 

After struggling for a couple minutes, all the energy was drained from her body, and all she could do was mourn her loss.  He didn't do anything, and he held completely still.  She could tell he was giving her a minute to get her bearing.  Why couldn't this be my Jason holding me and consoling me?  Why did he have to turn out to be the horrifying and vile Joker?  Why couldn't I have stayed blissfully ignorant of who I was falling in love with?

She felt him unwrap his legs from around hers and start to move with her still in his arms.  He stood up and placed her gently on her feet.  She had no fear—even if she was able to feel anything beside the numbness invading every bone in her body, she still didn't think she would be afraid.  There was no explanation she could come up with.  She felt his strong fingers under her chin, and he raised her head to look in his eyes.  He smiled.  This one didn't reach his eyes, though.  He whispered, "Well, it looks like you're all better, now. Doesn't it, kitten?" he paused as only the Joker could, while maintaining her attention.  His voice rose with each word when he stated, "So now you can get the... fuck. Out. Of. My. House."

Her shoulders sagged further.  He turned his back on her and proceeded to walk out of the room into the bathroom.  She didn't try to say anything.  There were no words, even if she wanted to talk to him.  She looked around for what clothes she could put on.  On the floor, she saw a black T-shirt that would have been impossible for him to fit in.  She assumed this was what she was wearing this whole time, and she put it on.  She looked in a mirror hanging above a heavy mahogany dresser and read, "PROPERTY OF THE JOKER," written in all caps across the front of it.  She would have laughed if she didn't feel like such a fool. 

She found a pair of yoga pants that she assumed she was also wearing, and not bothering to find a pair of panties, she put them on.  She found woman's black flip-flops lying beside the bed and slipped into them.  With nothing left to do, she made her way to the bedroom door and looked back at the plush room where she fell in love with a fraud.  Her sense of loss was unbearable. She turned back around and found her way out of the house, scurrying past the huge, masked henchmen as she found her way out, hoping that sometime in the near future she would forget this ever happened.

A/N:  So I wrote this part pretty much when I started writing this story.  I love this part, but I hate it.  I'm sorry that I had to do this to you lovely people, especially after the last part, but this is where the story idea came from and it's where the characters took the story.  He's tricked her this entire time (we knew that), and I was just heartbroken reading this part.  But I promise, there's some really good things coming up.  Amy is an awesome character, but we still need to see how she deals with this.  There's a surprise coming up in the next part, too.  I'm not sure how much you will like the next part, especially after this one, but Mr. J told me to do it. 

As usual, please let me know what you think.  Let me know if you thought they dealt with this situation the right way.  Let me know what you think the future holds for them.  As always, constructive criticism is welcome. 

Until next time, lovelies.  Ta!