"Today, the American government has released some shocking information. The tale of 'The Joker' whom many people from America, particularly from the big town of Gotham have claimed to have seen murdering people has proven to be true. America's police officers have been constantly denying his existence, however today, the well-known Harvey Dent has decided to step up and tell people the truth." The news TV presenter announced, his face disappearing and being immediately replaced with some footage of Harvey Dent.

"Today, citizen of Gotham, is the day I'll apologize for keeping so many secrets from you all. The reason I did so was to try and protect every one of you while the police would try and deal with The Joker. For over a year now, he has dissappeared, and is nowhere to be seen, so do not panic, but also do remember that he can always come back. Watch your backs, and don't forget to report any sightings you see! Thank you." He stated, and got off the stage, putting the microphone back into its place.

What followed afterwards on news didn't interest me one bit, I was quite shocked to find out The Joker stories were true. To be honest, I always found them to be fun to read, and wonder what would it be like if he was actually real. Where did he go though? Did he just quit his 'job'? Got bored of murdering, or perhaps creating some sort of huge scheme to destroy the whole city?

Who knows, I didn't really care, seeing as I lived in London. Europe was quite far from America, so I didn't worry about being killed by this so-called psychopath. I was in Law School, so The Joker had always been a subject often discussed, and most of us had agreed that he most certainly was not real. After all, what kind of genius could bypass all the technology used today? Apparently he could.

I yawned and lied down into bed, falling asleep after about thirty minutes of thinking about random stuff. The day after was going to be pretty tough, seeing as I had so many boring classes.

*3 AM*

My eyes cracked open, awakening with an incredibly strong sensation that I was being watched. I pulled the blanket on me, reaching under the pillow for the Glock pistol that I had in the house for situations like these. I was sure I was just paranoid, so I tried to brush it off and go to bed. It wouldn't leave me. The moment I heard a creaky noise I shot up from the bed, moving as silently as I could, pointing my gun at random spots, immensely scared. It felt like I was in a horror story. I should call the police, but the phone wasn't anywhere near me. And what if whoever was in the house would hear the phone ring? If it was just a robber I could simply let it steal whatever it wanted and then he'd be on his way.

But what if it was a killer? The Joker's face popped into my head, and tears started running down my cheeks, my heart pounding against my chest, certain that I was going to die that night. All the serial killer movies I had ever seen at that point and all the cases I've ever read were racing through my mind as I was getting close to the front door. It was open. I did not know how, seeing as I had locked it before going to bed.

I kept going, until I made a wrong step. My foot bumped into something that made a LOUD noise, it was either glass or metal, but it didn't exactly matter to me at that point. Exactly when that happened, I heard a low breath and noisy footsteps which seemed to be running, and then the front door being slammed closed. I approached the window, which was partly open, and stared out of it. A silhouette was in my small garden, running about, until it suddenly stopped. I swear I saw its head turn towards me, holding something that looked like a gun. So I aimed my gun and pulled the trigger. My target slowly fell to its knees, and then finally collapsing onto the ground. Everything moved into slow motion. I shot again, just to make sure he was dead. And he sure was. I opened the door and ran to his location, only to see that he wasn't holding any gun. He was holding a large phone.

What the fuck did I just do? I wanted to scream, but nothing came out, just wails and sounds of me choking back my own tears. I didn't know what I was doing, all I knew was that I was going to jail.

"Hey-!" A man from afar shouted, jumping past the small fence of my yard. It was dark, the nearest street light was a few good feet away. It was hard for me to see anything, but I could see his clothes. They were blue. He was a policeman.

Acting purely controlled by my adrenaline and instincts, I lifted my handgun and shot him too. I missed, and he pulled out his own gun. So I shot, and shot, and shot. I shot repeatedly until I was sure he was dead too.

And there I was. Two dead bodies in my yard. I rose onto my feet, knees weak, and stared at the mess in my small garden. My whole life flashed before my eyes, I remembered when I was a child with big dreams of becoming a lawyer, and then a teen aspiring to become a horse riding champion and to get into the best law university in England, working as hard as I could to move from my native country to London. I remembered the happiness I had gotten once I received my acceptance letter, and how hard it was for me to leave my whole family behind.

I remembered how I could slowly overcome my mental illness which was preventing me from doing anything at all with my life. I remembered the pain I was in during my younger years, and how I had finally gotten over all my bad habits – smoking, drinking, drugs, self-harm, I had ditched them all for a better life, for a future.

I remembered what it felt like when I had to sell my horse, when my dog and my cat died, when my parents divorced. I remembered the sadness, the pain I felt. I remembered my life, and how great it felt to live.

It would all be over... everything... I would go to jail... I would rot in prison for life. I would never get a chance to find love, to start a family, to finish school and become a great lawyer. I would never ride a horse again. Everything I had ever hoped for was ended in five minutes.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I emotionlessly stared at the two dead bodies in front of me. I fell onto my butt, hugging my knees, screaming into my legs, crying my eyes out. What was I going to do?

My sadness was soon replaced with anger. Why did my life have to be over just for two petty people's lives? Who the hell cared about an insane man and a policeman without any sort of studies? Their lives were pathetic anyways. I grasped a piece of broken glass in my hand, and began stabbing the two men's bodies repeatedly, venting my anger which was soon combined with despair. My vision was blurry from all the tears which had never stopped to fall until the moment I ran out of them, my throat drying.

I suddenly stopped and sank a piece of glass into my thigh, stabbing through my own flesh and the pants I was wearing. Blood dripped down my leg and onto the grass, suddenly calming me down and helping me think and try to find a solution.

I'd run away. Yes, I would run away.

I quickly ran into my house, grabbed all the money I had, my credit card, cellphone, car keys, and quickly ran to my car, driving off as fast as I could, scared of any police cars that could be following me. I didn't know where I was going, all I knew was that I just had to drive.

And so I did, I drove for about an hour, my car seat soaked in blood. The bleeding still hadn't stopped, the sharp pain aching through the wound I had created. Where could I go, I didn't know, I was incredibly tired. Multiple times I had considered killing myself, but I would not give up, not yet. So I pulled over in the first forest I found, driving my car deep into the woods until it was too thick to drive into anymore, and stopped there. I tried to fall asleep, but I could not. I got out of the car and started running deeper and deeper into the forest, hoping a wolf would just eat me, but instead, everything went black and I collapsed through the fallen leaves.

"What should we do with her?" A man whose voice I didn't recognize asked. No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to open my eyes or move any part of my body. I felt no pain, I felt absolutely nothing, barely hearing what was going on around me.

"Uhh- I don't really know. Maybe we should ask the boss." Another guy stated, sounding as clueless as the other.

"The boss is away, stupid. Let's just take her in, and if the boss don't like her, we shoot her." The first guy simply said, and the other one agreed. Great.

I felt myself being picked up, and tried my best to recall yesterday's events. I remembered everything perfectly, but was it all a dream?

Slowly, my eyes opened and I could see the man's chin, decorated by a thick beard. The pain in my thigh confirmed that it wasn't a dream. Sadly, it was real.

As fucked up as it sounds, I was actually glad those people would take me in. So if they killed me, what? I had nothing to live for anymore anyways. I just hoped they wouldn't turn me in to the police or anything.

I began mumbling and shaking my head, trying to see anything clearly. My vision was still blurry, but it was slowly getting back to normal.

"Stand still, girl!" The man carrying me demanded, and I complied with a sigh. The wound hurt like hell.

Soon, I felt something soft beneath me. I figured it was a bed. The feeling of standing on something comfortable was awesome, and I thanked God when they pulled a blanket on me.

"Hey, are you awake?" The first man asked, and when I did not respond, I was slapped. Although it hurt, I wanted to thank him, since it helped me wake up.

"Yeah." I finally said, trying to take a good look at them. They seemed so clueless. "Thank you." I continued, a bit amused upon seeing their surprised faces.

"Uhh—what's your name?" He resumed his questioning, clearly unsure of what to say or do.

"Nathalia." I managed to say, feeling a bit better. "Who are you?"

"uhh, call me Bob." He stated. "My name's Brandon, but boss calls me Bob, so I'm Bob. This is Tim." He pointed to his colleague, who smiled awkwardly. I replied with a smile of my own.

"I'm very happy to have met you, Bob and Tim. Who's your boss?" I blurted out the last part, not really realizing it was a risky thing to ask. I was truly curious.

"Umm, you'll see when he comes back from work. You hungry or thirsty?" Bob asked me, and I was truly surprised at their hospitality. At first, they seemed to be criminals or some sort of thieves, but I honestly had second thoughts about that. Maybe they were just... wood choppers or something?

"Yes." I stated. "Both." I added when they didn't react in any way. Tim nodded and quickly brought me a plate which contained a glass of water and some instant noodles. I consumed both of them incredibly quick, and when I noticed neither of them would be coming back any soon, I just rested my head against the pillow, quickly falling asleep.

"My, my, what have we here?" I heard a strange voice say. What had woken me up was the same guy's yelling and some doors slamming, obviously angry at Bob or Tim, so I assumed he was the so called 'boss'. I was surprised to hear how calm he sounded while talking to me, however his vocals were accompanied by a large amount of sarcasm, which burned like poison. Made me feel uneasy.

I stared at the tall man which was slowly approaching me. Tall, green-haired, dressed in a purple suit. White face with big, red scars which were accentuated by red lipstick, and his eyes... They were so black. Like onyx. No, like the abyss. And the dark makeup around them made him look so much more menacing.

"You look like the Joker." I stated nervously. From the stories descriptions, that was exactly what he looked like. I was scared, and when I was scared, I couldn't exactly control what I said. The thought that it didn't really matter if I died or not calmed me down a bit, but then I remembered there were worse things than death.

He clapped his gloved hands slowly. "Amazing remark!" He commented sarcastically, which made me feel stupid. The man chuckled, his laughter sending shivers down my spine.

"So, you're... uh... this Joker?" I dumbly questioned yet again, my fear still there, but now the embarrassment had replaced it for the most part. How could I be so stupid? I blamed the fact that I didn't exactly have the best day.

"You're quite dense, aren't you?" He questioned, however it sounded more like a statement. I couldn't understand why he was being so aggressive. Maybe because he's a serial killer? Are you an idiot?

"No, I'm not." I said, but he ignored me and threw the blanket off of me, ripping out a piece of glass which had gotten stuck in the wound and carelessly throwing it on the ground. He pulled my pants down and before I knew it, I felt even more pain than before. I dared to stand up slightly and look at what he was doing.

SHIT. I thought, gritting my teeth as I tried my best not to scream. He was stitching it. While I was awake. I couldn't hold back everything, so I escaped quite a few 'OWs' every now and then.

"Done!" He happily said, further analyzing the wound, pressing his finger on it and then pouring some rubbing alcohol directly onto the wound.

"GOD!" I yelled through my teeth as the pain increased even more. I felt like just cutting my whole leg off, it stung like hell, but soon it decreased to the point I could endure it.

"Much better now, isn't it?" He chuckled, and I nodded silently. "Now, tell me doll, who did this to you, hmm?" The Joker asked, staring right into my eyes. I refused to answer, way too ashamed of my actions. In a split second, his hand reached for my throat, firmly grasping it and pushing his finger right into it. "WHO-DID-IT?" He demanded again. "I am not a patient man, doll."

I tried to speak, but couldn't due to the lack of air, so I tried to push his hand away with both of my palms. Obviously it wasn't my 'strenght' that made him let go, but he probably understood I couldn't really speak, seeing as I was already weak. "I did."

His finger trailed to the other scars that I had, the bigger ones in particular, and pushed down on them. "And these, too?" It was amazing how he could go from losing his shit to completely calm in a matter of a second.

"Yes." I stated, trying my best to be confident. Why would I be ashamed? It's not like he was exactly the best example of a mentally stable man, either.

Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Why, I did not know, all I knew was that he was most certainly insane. "Amazing!" He stated. "W-what happened?" The Joker asked through his laughing. "Did you just fight with your boyfriend? Is that why y-you r-ran away?"

Surprisingly, I grinned as well, almost laughing myself. He thought I was just some crazy basic emo teen. To think of it, I probably was. "No, not really. I just killed two men." I admitted, feeling guilty. "That's why I ran away."

"Such a fragile little thing like you managed to... kill! And two men, at that! I bet the police are going crazy, looking for you all over the place. I bet you were so scared, pathetic little thing, you're running from the- the cops! Hahaha, now that's the funniest thing I've heard in a while." His tone went from being fully amused to a low, menacing growl. It was making me freak out, seeing as I wasn't exactly the bravest person around.

"Yes." I repeated, trying to gather enough courage to ask if I could stick around. It was better to live with these people than to rot in jail, was it not? I was sure life would be living hell for me, but at least I had someone to talk to, not just some gross inmates. As weird as it sounds, The Joker and his men, although crazy, did not disgust me at all.

"Uhh-, I was wondering..."

"Come on doll, spit it out! I haven't got all day!" The Joker said, his lips stretched into a huge grin. He was surely amused by making fun of me.

"I want to stay here."

"You're getting funnier with every word you say, do you know that?" He asked, still chuckling, unable to hold back his laughter. "Tell me one good reason I shouldn't kill you on the spot." The Joker demanded, once again, looking completely serious.

I didn't really stop to think too much. What other reason did I have?

"I haven't got anything to live for, so I would literally do anything, even if it would kill me or not."

He pointed his index finger at me and waved it around, maintaining his grin. "Ah, you're just too funny, little one. I'll let you stay, but once I get bored of you, it won't be pretty." The Joker got closer and closer to my face, until I could feel his breath against my cheek, my heart pounding in my chest. "And mark my words, there are much worse things than death, little doll."

And with that, he left.