Joker by Andi Rhodes

Chapter Sixteen

^{Until I bury my demons, until I acknowledge the garbage weighing me down, I’ll remain a threat to Riley and anyone else who dares to cross me.}

Joker

Mommy issues.

I rear back as if slapped in the face and shove up from the couch.

Mommy issues.

My vision blurs as rage builds. My body vibrates with the need to correct Riley, to make her see that she’s wrong, but that would mean divulging my secrets and I’m not at all prepared to do that.

You should at least think about talking to someone.

Greaser’s words choose this moment to taunt me. They mingle with Riley’s insult and I’m left feeling like I’m standing in the middle of a crumbling empire. One I carefully crafted over the years to surround me, to protect me from the memories, and now, one by one, the buildings collapse. I try to dodge flying debris but I can’t. Not anymore.

“Joker, I’m so—”

“Get up,” I snarl, standing over Riley and glaring.

She starts to sit up from her prone position but she’s taking too long. I wrap my fingers around her bicep and yank her toward me. Her body slams into mine but I don’t welcome the contact. There’s no denying that Riley is sexy as fuck, but right now she represents everything that’s wrong with her kind, everything that I hate about women.

I drag her toward the door. She resists at first but then gives in and manages to fall into step beside me.

“Where are we going?” she asks, the words wobbly.

The fear in her voice only fuels the fire within me. She wants to accuse me of having mommy issues but she has no fucking clue what that actually means. My hatred doesn’t stem from a crappy childhood, not in the traditional sense. No, my hatred, my soul-crushing contempt, is the result of something much worse. So much worse than Riley, or anyone, could possibly imagine.

“Please, Joker,” she pleads. “Where are we going?”

I ignore the question for a second time. My steps are heavy as I continue to drag her along with me. Although I’m not exactly dragging her. It dawns on me that she’s right with me. Despite my anger, despite her fear, she’s walking next to me without hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean it. I know you don’t have mommy issues. I was just…” She sighs. “I was trying to push your buttons. Brian, I’m sorry.”

I stop in my tracks and whirl on her. Riley’s eyes widen but she doesn’t back away.

“What did you call me?”

My eye twitches. My muscles bunch with tension, more tension than should be possible. Cheryl’s face transposes itself onto Riley’s and I shake my head to clear the image but it doesn’t work. My fingers itch to wrap themselves around her throat, squeeze until the life drains from her eyes.

“My. Name. Is. Joker.”

My tone is low, threatening, laced with a steely calm that I don’t feel. I take a step forward and reach my hands out to choke her. I’m aware of my fingers splayed in front of me, inches from her neck, but everything else disappears. I’m seconds away from destroying the woman who destroyed—

Pain explodes in my cheek and I fall back a step. My eyes water and I blink several times to clear my vision. It’s only when I see Riley standing in front of me, cradling her arm, that I realize what happened.

“You fucking punched me!”

“And you were gonna kill me,” she counters.

My eyes narrow to slits. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

She laughs but it’s hollow, humorless. “Your hands coming for my throat told me otherwise. Joker, you may not realize it but you weren’t seeing me just then. You were… never mind.” She shakes her arm out. “Damn, your face is harder than it looks.”

I reach for her hand and she retreats a step. I take a deep breath, hold it in for a few seconds and release it. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Right,” Riley huffs.

I understand her reluctance. She’s absolutely right. It wasn’t her I wanted to snuff out. It wasn’t Riley that I wanted to make suffer. But it was her standing in front of me. It was her body that would have been on the receiving end of my rage.

You could have killed her.

“Let me see your hand.” When she only glares at me, I add, “Please.”

She finally lifts it for me to see and I hold it gently. Her knuckles are red and they’re starting to swell, but it doesn’t appear that she’s broken anything.

“You’ve got a mean right hook, Black Bird.”

“I know.”

For several moments we stand there, staring at one another. I’m the first one to break the silence.

“C’mon.”

I start walking toward my original destination. I don’t even bother to make sure she’s following. At this point, it doesn’t matter. I have to do what I have to do whether she’s there or not. It’s no longer about proving her wrong. I could have killed her and until I bury my demons, until I acknowledge the garbage weighing me down, I’ll remain a threat to Riley and anyone else who dares to cross me.

Again, she falls into step beside me. My heart skips a beat when I see her in my peripheral. Despite what I did, she’s still right here.

That means something.

“So, where are we going?”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She no longer looks scared. No, she’s not afraid of me. She’s… curious.

“The Nightmare Room.”

* * *

I stare at the woman on the monitor outside the Nightmare Room. She’s sitting in the corner, her body visibly shaking. When I left Cheryl here yesterday I turned the lights off so it’s difficult to make out any facial expressions but I imagine she’s not smiling.

“What are you going to do to her?” Riley asks from her position to my right.

Rather than answer, I push the button that will open the steel door. I step through the doorway and satisfaction slithers through me when Cheryl scrambles to her feet. The lights are still off but I can see her in the shadows from the light in the hallway. I glance over my shoulder and see Riley glued to her spot.

“Are you coming?” I ask her.

Her eyes dart back and forth between Cheryl and me. Riley surprises me when she closes the distance between us, but then again, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s not at all what I thought, although the jury is still out on how I feel about that.

I reach in my pocket and pull out my cell phone to bring up the app that will allow me to control the room. I press a button and the door slides closed with a distinct click. Another button and the room lights up.

“Let me go,” Cheryl begs. “If you let me go I won’t tell anyone about this. I won’t even tell my boyfriend. No one needs to know.”

I tilt my head as if considering it. Of course I’m not going to simply allow her to walk away, but she doesn’t know that.

“You’d really tell no one?” I ask.

“Not a soul,” she cries. “I promise, Br…” Cheryl swallows. “I promise, Joker.”

My anger spikes. “You promise?” I lunge toward her and shove her against the wall, my face inches from hers. I flatten my hands against her shoulders, pinning her in place. “You fucking promise? Do you even know what that means?”

Cheryl claws at my hands, drawing blood with her disgusting, dirt caked nails. She kicks at my shins but I barely register it. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, shielding me from any pain she tries to inflict.

“You should probably answer him.”

I look over my shoulder at Riley. She’s leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed over her chest, but she’s relaxed. As if this is a completely normal experience for her.

“Who the hell are you?” Cheryl demands, spit flying from her mouth. She glares beyond me but rather than look intimidating, she looks pathetic.

I hear Riley’s chuckle but remain focused on Cheryl.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Riley says casually. “What matters is why your son hates you so much. What matters is the little boy you broke. What matters is the man he became in spite of you.” Footsteps echo in the small space after Riley pushes off the wall and comes toward us. “What did you do to him?”

Cheryl’s eyes widen. They fill with something evil, something that brings back every single memory, every single moment of terror I survived because she was too self-absorbed, too high to fucking care. They fill with hatred and it mirrors my own. It mimics the rage that’s like sludge in my gut, weighing me down, making me toxic.

“I didn’t do anything!” Cheryl screeches.

“That’s exactly right,” I growl as I push away from her to pace the room, no longer in control of myself. “You did nothing. Not a fucking thing. Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then how about I remind you?”

The air thickens and breathing becomes difficult. But I manage to suck in one breath, then two, then three. My lungs burn but not as bad as the hurt, not as bad as the pain or the memories. Nothing could hurt as bad as that.

I stop pacing and lean against the wall where Riley had been. I can’t bring myself to be any closer to Cheryl and somehow, being where Riley was makes this a little easier.

“Let’s see,” I begin. “I was five. I was asleep in my bed, dreaming about motorcycles and toys and lollipops. Only the lollipops weren’t a dream, were they?” I pause, waiting for Cheryl to acknowledge my words. She doesn’t. “No, the lollipop was real, as real as the strange man standing next to you, snickering as you coaxed me from my bed. Sneering as you lied and said we were going camping.” I let my eyes wander to Riley in an effort to gauge her reaction to my words but I don’t see one. Not one I can discern anyway. “We didn’t go camping though, did we, Mom?”

Cheryl’s body jerks but I suspect it’s more from withdrawal than it is any sort of reaction to me. I push off the wall and stalk toward her. When I’m a foot away from her, I bend down and grab the knife from my boot.

“Do I need to keep going?” I ask as I step up to her and press the blade against her throat. “Or are you going to admit what you did?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Cheryl cries again.

“Yeah, we’ve established that,” I agree. I keep the blade near her pulsing artery but don’t increase the pressure. “So, where was I?” I look toward the ceiling as if trying to remember. I don’t need to try. I remember all too clearly what came next. “Oh, right. That first night.” I look at Riley for a split second and grin. “This is where things get good, Black Bird, so pay attention.” I return my stare to Cheryl. “I guess I should give you some credit. You didn’t let me starve. We passed several dumpsters on our way to the shithole you called home and you did feed me.”

Riley’s sharp intake of breath registers and seems to transport me back in time to another place, another breath.

“Forgive me for not remembering your boyfriend’s name.” I shrug. “There were so many it was hard to keep track. And really, I stopped trying after the third. They were all the same. All. The. Fucking. Same.”

“They loved me,” Cheryl pouts.

“Did they?” I counter. “Or did they love the little boy you dangled in front of them to secure your next high? Because I gotta tell ya, after months of being used and abused, night after night of you standing in a corner watching, giddy because you knew what my suffering meant for you… I’m pretty sure that’s not love.”

Riley’s hand rests on my arm as her other wraps around the one holding the knife. She urges the blade away from Cheryl’s neck. And for whatever reason, I let her. I don’t try to stop her when her arm goes around my waist and she guides me backward a few steps. I don’t resist at all.

“Thank you,” Cheryl mumbles.

The energy in the room shifts as her words are like an electric charge. With every word I uttered to Cheryl, my fury diminished, morphing into shame, sadness. And with those two words from Cheryl, Riley seems to absorb all of it. She stomps toward my mother and delivers another right hook.

Cheryl’s head slings to the side and blood drips from her nose.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re thanking me for,” Riley seethes, her chest heaving. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for him.” She hitches a thumb over her shoulder. “No wonder he hates women. No wonder he’s so full of pain that he can’t see straight.”

Riley pulls her arm back and lands another blow to Cheryl’s face.

“You’re a fucking monster!” Another blow and Cheryl crumbles to the floor. She tries to lift her arms to defend herself but she’s too weak. “A waste of skin and bones. How can you call yourself a mother?”

I watch as Riley continues her assault. There’s a brief moment where it crosses my mind to stop her but I can’t make my feet move because in reality, I don’t want her to stop. I want her to do what I can’t. I want her to kill Cheryl.

No, you don’t. Don’t make her carry that burden.

As I stand there, unmoving, an unfamiliar sensation washes over me. Heartbreak. Anguish like I’ve never known. My vision blurs and when my cheeks become wet, I realize it’s because I’m crying. For a woman who hasn’t shed a tear over me. For another human who has never once shown me the same emotion.

I scrub my hands over my face, drying my eyes.

“Riley.”

She doesn’t stop. Cheryl’s face is bloody, swollen, yet Riley continues.

“Riley!” I shout and lunge forward to pull her off my mother. “Stop!”

Riley struggles against me but I’m stronger. She kicks and flails, venomous words spewing from her lips. I manage to get her to the corner, to wrap my arms around her body to hold her in place, keep her from hurting me or herself.

After several long minutes, her body relaxes. Her breathing does not. I keep her tight against me and glance over my shoulder. Cheryl isn’t moving but I can see her chest rising and falling so at least she’s alive. Shockingly, I’m glad. I don’t know if it’s because I actually want her alive or if it’s because I want to be the one to kill her.

And it doesn’t matter… not right now.

I pull my cell phone out and send a quick text to Greaser.

Nightmare Room… NOW!

Once I hit send, I switch to the app that controls the room. I hit the button to open the doors. I know Greaser will get here as soon as he can so while I wait, I lift Riley into my arms and carry her out into the hall.

“You can’t leave her there,” Riley says flatly.

“I’m not.”

I sit in the chair that always remains just outside the door and settle Riley onto my lap. Her knuckles are bleeding, the crimson dripping onto the floor. I cup her head in my hand and pull her against my chest. She doesn’t resist.

We sit there like that, both of us relying on the other for comfort. I don’t know how much time passes but when Greaser’s footsteps echo behind me, Riley seems to be asleep.

Greaser looks down at us and takes in the blood.

“What the hell happened?” he demands. He looks at the monitor on the wall and see’s Cheryl’s crumpled form. “Holy shit, you did it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“What?” His eyes narrow.

“She’s alive. And,” I nod at the woman in my arms. “She did it.”

“Damn.” That one word comes out breathy.

Tears begin to gather in my eyes and I blink them away, but not before Greaser sees them.

“Joker, tell me what happened.”

I shake my head. “You can watch the playback. It’s all there. Every sadistic detail.”

“You mean…”

His words trail off. I’ve never told him what happened while I was with Cheryl all those years ago. I’m not quite ready to say the words aloud, not to him, but he should know. He’s my best friend and he should know what happened to me.

“I’ll talk to you when I’m ready, G,” I say. “I promise. But right now, I just want to go home, make sure Riley’s hands are okay, and…” I shrug. “I don’t know. I just want to go home.”

And because he’s my best friend, he doesn’t push. “I’ll take care of Cheryl.” He takes a deep breath. “Uh, what do you want me to do with her?”

“Drop her at a rehab somewhere. She’s already detoxing so might as well finish it.”

“Consider it done.”

I nod and stand, lifting Riley with me. She stirs, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Where are we going?” she asks sleepily.

“Back to my place.”

“Okay.”

I carry her up the steps and out into the night air. I suck in the cleanliness of it, hoping it will replace all the vile energy I’ve been carrying around all these years.

“Riley?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you.”