My Bloody Valentine Doll
It was all a joke. It had to be. Just a really, really bad joke.
Harley would be back tomorrow, bag in one hand and tissues in the other. Screaming and crying about how her precious mister Jay had kicked her out again. And I, as always, would tell her that the psychotic clown bastard was using her. But she would hear none of it, and kick and cry and scream until I used one of my many pheromones to shut her down and carry her to bed. She would wake up and we'd spend hours scheming. Thefts, pranks, even the occasional shopping trip. And we'd laugh for hours, just two girls with a life of crime and minds of their own.
This is why this is all a joke. That body down there…isn't Harley's. It can't be. The Joker must have faked her death…yeah. Because deep down, he loves her. That has to be it. It just…has to be.
Goddammn you, Joker! You took my Harley away from me!
Harley left the Joker, for once. Of her own free will. I looked down at the body. He hit her again. Hit her and her jaw broke. And probably her nose too. That's why she didn't call me. She could, most likely, barely talk. She must have been in so much pain, my poor little Harlequin. Walking down the street, jaw out of place, blood streaming out of her nose…why didn't anyone stop to help her? Didn't they ever consider that she might mean something to someone?
They found her body splattered across main. Maybe they didn't see her, and tried to avoid hitting her, but she was hit nonetheless. She was walking, right in the middle of the road and got hit by accident. Yes, that's it. Despite the fact that she was found lying on her back, stomach marked with the grill of that car. Despite that fact that the witnesses say that she smiled as the car hit her. No, my Harley was strong. She wouldn't take her own life, and leave me all alone here.
"Damn you to hell!" I scream to no one in particular. Maybe to the Joker, or to Harley. Or to Batman, who should have tried to save her from that madman. Deep down I know he did. And she didn't listen. Just like she didn't listen to me.
I wonder what the Joker's thinking right now. Is he missing her? Feeling sorry for her death? No. Most likely wondering where he'll get a new henchman. I hate him. If love can't carry you through in this world, what can?
I remember the last time she talked to me. It was the 13th, only a day before she went missing. She called. I don't know why. Maybe to hear the voice of someone who cared?
"Red." She said. I tensed. That meant nothing good when she didn't start into a barrage of chatter right away. "He's getting more violent, Red. Nothing I do seems to calm him down."
"Get out of there, Harl!" I begged. I could here the little tassels on her hat shaking back and forth. I knew that she was shaking her head, no. She'd never give up on that maniac. Not even for me.
"He's coming." She whispered, startled. "I have to go, Red." And then she hung up the phone. The number was untraceable. I couldn't call her back, and I had no idea where the Joker's base was. If I did, if I had pressed on, maybe she'd still be here…
What's this? A tear? I'm the vixen of vines, cold as ice criminal. I can't cry. Not even for Harley. Not when batman's looking up from the body bag, and no doubt sees me. No. I won't cry. Especially not in front of a man.
Who has the most annoying habit of appearing beside you invited. I drew back, pheromones at the ready. He held out his hand. There was an envelope in it.
"It's for you." He said. I looked back, but he had vanished. Infuriated (at everything: at that stupid psychotic clown and his stupid lovely, pure angelic girl and at life and god and especially that stupid batman...) I tore open the envelope. Inside was a card. A bloody card. With today's date on it.
Happy Valentine's day, Red!