Property Of Joker | ✓

37 | maniacal

37 | maniacal

(adj) exhibiting extremely wild or violent behaviour

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                    I laid in my bed, the white huge comfortable bed, with my arms spread wide. I laid there thinking about what happened. After a few more minutes of rough kissing, scratch that, devouring, I used all my strength to push him away and run.

He didn't even yell after me. And, I was glad for that. I ran with all my might and locked myself in this room, refusing to go out again. I was so angry, so frustrated, and so ...unloved.

Although I knew in the back of my mind that he had a rough path in life and doesn't let anyone in easily, and that I should give him time. His words still hurt deeply. They cut my already wounded heart again. I felt mentally drained. I didn't have any idea how to prove myself to him again.

Dear brain, sorry for the overload. Dear tummy, sorry for the butterflies. Dear pillow, sorry for the tears. Dear heart, sorry for the damage.

Loving him is like holding the sun and hoping I don't get burned. It hurts when I know I tried doing my best and still wasn't good enough.

Admit it. We all have that one person we would take back without a thought no matter how much they hurt us.

For me, its him.

The green-haired, bleached skin full of tattoos, crazily cunning mind, psychopathic serial killer.

Yeah, that man.

He has become so damaged on the inside that when I give him what he deserves, he doesn't know how to freaking respond.

Knock. Knock.

I stiffened, but I didn't get out of bed to go and check out who it is. I didn't have the energy to shout back any answer, so I continued staring the white ceiling. His men kept knocking on my door for the past, I don't know, two hours? And, I have been successfully ignoring them.

"Ma'am?" A man said from out the door.

Knock. Knock.

I rolled my eyes and ignored it. Silence filled the air for a few seconds.

"Dr. Quinzel?"

Ugh. Why can't they just leave me alone? What do they want? What does he want?

He definitely doesn't want me.

I ignored everything my mind was saying and the poor guy outside the door and turned sideways on the bed, staring at the wall. I let out a huge sigh and closed my eyes, desperately trying to forgot all my problems. Sleep seemed like a good excuse.

Bang.

Crack.

Explosion.

I bolted right up, my heart racing and the loud explosive noise pounding in my ears. Wide awake, I turned my head towards the bedroom door.

There he stood, in all his green glory, in a tux, giving me a huge grin. His hair was messy and his shirt was stained with ...blood. He was wearing white gloves.

Where was the other man who was calling me?

"What are you doing?" Mr. J said, his expression showing that he is clearly annoyed. Slowly, he walked towards me and stood at the edge of the bed. I remained silent, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed and stared at him, blinking.