Chapter 38 | Wimp

A month has passed by and here I was in Belle Reve prison according to James who was actually one of my security guards. He was a sweet guy to talk to. He may look intimidating on the outside but on the inside he is a big soft weakling. But he quit his job recently.

I wonder why.

Note the sarcasm.

Not only him though.

All guys I talk to or look at quit their jobs.

Maybe because they can't stand all my prettiness and my brilliance.

"Wee!" I squealed swinging in the bedsheet that I had tied to the bars on top of me. I felt the rush of air through my hair and laughed heartily. My laughter echoing throughout the cell.

It was a huge cell, with a cage in the centre and guards surrounded them, holding huge machine guns in their guns.

After eavesdropping on the conversation between Daniel Hugh and Kaden Fitzgerald, I had learn that Joker is creating ultimate chaos out there in search of me.

I smiled at the thought but my heart pained at how much of a wreck he must be.

There is no-one there to take care of him like I do.

There is no one to remind him that his toothbrush is the blue one and not the green one. There is no one to bring him breakfast in bed. There is no one to wash him in the bathtub. There is no one to do his neck-tie for him. There is no one to laugh together with him. There is no one to tell him how ravishing he looks today. There is no one to comfort him when he has a nightmare.

Oh, puddin'.

My eyes filled with unshed tears and I controlled them, continuing the swinging as I hid the pain.

Fools hide their pain behind their eyes but the clever ones hide their pain behind their smile.

Ding.

I turned around, facing the entrance to my cell and grinned when I saw a man enter the cell, with a notepad and a blue pen in his pocket. He closed the door behind him and walked over to me looking at my state as I continued swinging.

"...we told her to get down but she wouldn't listen, please do something about it." The man beside my psychiatrist said and I pouted, still refusing to get down.

The psychiatrist nodded and pursed his lips, giving me a pointed look before gesturing for all the guards to go out.

I raised my eyebrows and continued to swing.

"Will you get down from there?" He asked, adjusting his specs as he took a seat in front of the cell, raising his eyebrows.

"Why should I?" I asked, pouting my lips. "Its the only thing fun to do in this boring prison."

"Please get down so that we can continue with this session." He said, and I shook my head 'no', laughing at his attempt.

"Ask puddin' to tell me that and I will do it in a heartbeat." I said, winking, as I swung on the rope, inching closer towards his face. He gulped at the mention of Joker and looked down at his notepad.

I started analysing him. There was a faint mark of ketchup on his coat, indicating that he had burger or French-fries in the morning. Most likely burger. He was coughing, and that means he had been drenched on the way home last night. Because from what I heard from Patrick, another one of lucky prison guard, there had been a heavy storm last night. His shoe looked worn out and I bet there was a hole in his black socks.

Not married. Poor.

Deciding to play with him like how I did to the last three of my psychiatrists, I grinned before hopping down from the hand-made rope.

He looked up at the sound, adjusting his specs as his eyes widened as I walked towards him. I have come to realise that he adjusts his specs whenever he feels highly uncomfortable.

I grabbed the bars and slid down, kneeling before him as I licked my lips seductively. He gulped as his eyes flickered down to my lips and adjusted his specs again.

"Let me tell ya a secret." I whispered, making him lean forward a little. "I love men who wear specs. I find them ...sexy."

"W-what?" He asked, his voice rising an octave and I tried not to laugh at his scared state. I gulped down the giggle that was threatening to come out of my mouth and gave him a small smile.

"I know you ate burgers this mornin'." I said, narrowing my eyes at him with amusement dancing on my lips as his eyes widened in ultimate fear as he stood up.

"H-how did you know?" He asked.

Time to play.

"Puddin' told me."

His green eyes went wide with pure shock and fear as he looked down at me, gripping his note-pad tight in his hands he looked down at my bare thighs, more accurately, at all the tattoos scattered over them.

Another fun thing to do in Belle Reve Prison?

Tattooing.

I know my puddin' is searching for me and will burst through that door in any second but his delay was getting me worried.

Maybe he had been caught too.

Maybe he does not where I am.

It must be either of them and I was betting all my money on the latter. Inching closer towards the psychiatrist whose face was pale, it almost matched mine.

"Listen." I paused. "Puddin' is readily waiting to shoot you once ya get out of this building. If ya don't want to die, give me your phone."

"W-what?"

"Stop stutterin' ya wimp and hand me your phone." I said.

He contemplated for a second before looking behind at the closed entrance door as he gulped.

"Do ya wanna die?" I asked, giving him a devious grin as I twirled my hair in my hand.

"S-securi--"

"Give me the damn phone!" I shouted, reaching out my hand as I fisted my hand on his collar. He backed away, standing up, the next second, pressing the switch on his walkie-talkie as he called for security.

The door opened and I lost all hope, backing away from the bars but didn't fail to give the psychiatrist a devious grin.

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Hola!

Poor psychiatrist. Hahaha!

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