A fanfic from my archives. A short piece on how The Joker got his scars. Enjoy.
I do not own the iconic face of The Joker or his fancy purple coat.
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Everyone shoved him away.
Critiqued him.
Shunned him.
Told him the honest truth that he didn't want to hear.
"You are nothing."
And one day…he looked in the mirror and saw the freak that his peers had come to hate. His lips moved downward, and in a flash of anger he had the switchblade to his face.
It's time to turn that frown…upside down.
The knife slid through the teeth smoothly and pressed up against the rough skin of the cheek. With one final look at the mirror he thrust the blade upward, which brought with it a rain shower of red that splattered on the porcelain in an array of rainbow colors in its foreboded shine, Tears of pain immediately sprung to his eyes, but he quickly brushed them away.
I am not weak.
He repeated it in his mind. It tasted good to him….like that if he thought those words a hundred times it would somehow numb the pain, therefore bringing out concealed bliss.
The knife sawed up the cheek as the maroon blood gushed with its own pulse. He cranked through to the other side, making a bloody streak across his teeth.
The blade ripped through time, and with each gush of blood his anger, sadness and denial attacked his fragile mind, tormenting him in agony…but it was a horrid price he was willing to pay. For with each tear of flesh came more truth, and as much as it pained him to see his true form take shape before his eyes, he knew that denying that lust for darkness was too great in the weakly lit path he had made for his good self. That path was now being destroyed by his knife feeding the bathroom floor with blood wine.
He gazed into the mirror, halfway up the other cheek. His blond hair once filled with light now hung in lifeless clumps. A bit of hair stuck to his face, blood becoming his glue.
He felt his eyes rolling into his head, and he fought for consciousness. Vaguely he saw the reflection in his mirror…and gazed back at the figure of a monster. His eyes widened in fear. His broken skin was now white and where his blue eyes should have been there was only dark black holes. Staring a little longer, he found that there was a certain light coming from his eyes that looked like joy. A joy that he had not seen in ages. Lips crimson with blood, his eyes bore into the mirror as the liquid stained his mouth. The blood trickled like an endless river, shining in his demonic appearance he had now created. The blade, once in his hand, slid from his grasp and clattered on the floor. He leaned closer into the mirror's abyss…
It showed his true self, the one he denied because of his quest for good. It was the side of his being that thirsted for vengeance from the start…the side that wanted the fear of others to satisfy the need, the want of suffering souls to quench that impenetrable thirst.
Lightly he touched the mirror. A blood-curdling laugh echoed off the walls. Startled, he realized that the sound came from his own red-stained lips.
A laugh of excitement. A laugh of joy.
His heart pumped through his chest, pounding in his ears. He softly hissed at his reflection.
It's the freak I always am.
Already he felt the movement of his mouth stretch into a grimace of anger, but as he did this he saw that even if his frown was so big that the entire city could see it, there was something else equally as huge…the bloody smile had already made its mark.
With a wave of exhaustion, he leaned against the wall and slithered down it until his knees buckled and sent him sprawling onto the tile floor. He ran his tongue over his lips, catching whatever blood remained. Red now raced down the ragged ravines of his scarred cheeks, making a trail drawn by happy fire truck red. His hands shook, and grasped the fallen blade. Lazily he gazed upon its sheen, getting lost in all its potential. He closed the blade and with a simple flick of the wrist snapped it open again, the click ringing sweetly in his ears. A flutter in his chest grew, him finally feeling true happiness since he had arrived in Gotham City…all would be well soon enough, and he would be the one to unveil the veritable truth that so many others had in turn shown to him in the efforts to bring him down.
He laughed quietly, biting his scarred cheek.
They shall know truth all too soon…all their lives are just lies so that happiness can never evade them. Well…now it's my turn to be the one with the laughter.
With a quiver in his cheek, he raised his head from the view of his switchblade….
And smiled as The Joker.