So this is my Dark Knight story. I like it very much.

Hope you will like it too.

Reviews are Love!

"Mother! It is not too low-cut!"

"Yes it is, hon, you don't want to spill out everywhere! You want to get married at this age?!"

Damn. That stupid saying.

"Whatever, mom." I slammed my door closed.

"Young lady!" aw fuck. Dad.

"What?!"

"Don't talk to your mother that way!"

"Yes sir." I sighed and looked in the full-length mirror. My top, an aqua v neck that came down just below the top of my sternum, look just fucking fine to me. I'm 16 for fucks sake! And I didn't want to put on a tank under it cause that would look just fucking stupid. I walked to my closet, but every other fucking outfit looked just plain shitty. I picked out a blouse and put it on. Less than half as attractive than the other one. But who the hell cared to be attracted to me?

I got into my father's tan Toyota Avalon, with my 10 year old brother Stephen next to me. I groaned as he poked me with his Lego toy shit.

The boy had never worked a fucking day in his life, whereas I'd helped my father at his orthodontist's office since I was six!

He flashed a fucking laser into my eyes from the stupid Lego flashlight.

"Ugh! Cut it out!"

"Hey, you two! Shut up!" my dad always had that kind of temper.

"Yes sir." we both said.

We parked in the Fig Tree parking lot and I emerged out of the car slowly. I loved this restaurant, but my family always seemed to put a damper on the whole experience.

I walked in, feeling like a beached whale, every other woman, or should I say lucky-fucking-bitch, was showing at least a small amount of cleavage. I don't want to be a whore or nothing, it's just that I was fucking lonely! I waited until the blonde ponytail at the waitress counter noticed us. They say you're not supposed to judge people. Well I say screw that. I'll judge people by what they do and what they fucking choose to look like. She looked like a fucking whore who'd sell herself on the streets if she thought it'd make ends meet. She smiled that fucking fake smile and asked,

"How many in your party?" duh, bitch, can't you see these three spinning ditzy people and I resemble each other? Fuck, I hate Maryland.

I returned the fake smile and said in a sweet little candy coated voice,

"Four, please." she grabbed four menus and walked us to a table in the bar area.

Now, the most fucking worthless thing in my life are the fucking worthless laws. We sat in that bar area, my 47 year old parents looking fucking uncomfortable, my too-young-to-drink-but-wants-to self looking longingly at the bar filled with whores and whore pick ups.

Now, don't get me wrong, I know what you're fucking thinking, I DO NOT want to be a whore or, excuse the language, cunt.

I just want a decent beer. Or any beer. Alcohol at all would float my fucking boat if only for the fucking laws...

My sullen expression caught the attention of my ego-ass father.

"Do you deserve this? Poor little rich girl? Is that it for you? What have you done for this family? Huh?!" I didn't flinch as he spat the deeply cutting words at me.

"More than half of what you've ever done, smart-ass." I said it way under my breath, but he caught the whisps of air.

"What, young lady?"

"Nothing, sir, I've done nothing."

"That's right, and you should start. By the time I was your age I was working two jobs and taking the highest classes I could in school!" and look where the hell it got you, fucker.

I take pretty high classes if you ask me, I mean, all the honors and Advanced Placement I could get. But he'll always be better than me. Always.

That's when you entered my life, and changed it forever.

I'd've noticed you coming in, but I was too busy defending my existence to notice you with your low tipped hat that was messing up your green hair, long trench coat over a bright purple jacket that had low drooping coat tails. You had four bear-like men with you who all turned their faces away from you. You and your company all sat at the bar on the far end of the room. I remember hearing your voice as you ordered a glass of Heineken beer and the thugs around you ordered their own poison.

Your dark eyes weren't really to be seen under the brim of your hat, but what was hidden most of all was your scars.

I ordered a good meal of chicken Alfredo, my favorite Italian dish, and didn't even notice when you stood up off your bar stool. I was too busy watching my fucking brother play with his fucking rich kid Legos to notice you throw off your trench coat.

Then I looked over.

You'd taken off your hat, unceremoniously, and laid it softly between your hands.

"Attention." you said. No one paid attention except me. I sat in fear...fear of who you were.

"Attention. I'm warning you."

He raised a fully automatic gun to the ceiling and shot rapidly, blasting horrible sounds in the air. I covered my ears. Screams came from drunk people.

"Warned you." you lowered the gun.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, in fact, all people in the nice restaurant of the Fig Tree. In order to save all your damned little insignificant lives one of you must be chosen to come with us."

I immediately thought of myself. Hell I wasn't worth anything to anyone. I watched as all the other frozen patrons of the eatery looked to each other while you, with your dark eyes and red greasepaint watched, smiling dangerously as if you were watching animals at a slaughter waiting to pick which one to slice up first, and thought it was hilariously funny. I made up my mind, said to my family so that the frozen victims could hear,

"You said I wasn't worth anything to this family, that I'd never done anything. Well, here's to saving your skins." I watched your dark eyes shift to me as I stood up, walked around the bar, and stood bravely in front of you, your wicked smile growing wider.

"A red head, eh? We're ah, going to have some fun-nah with you!" you laughed maniacally. My mother had tears rolling down her cheeks. You smiled and pointed to me with your tight leather purple gloves.

"This girl has sacrificed herself for your skins-ah! I suggest you give her a round of applause for her act-tah, it's only kind." the people started to slowly clap as you smiled at me, the paint stretched over the folds of your face.

"A toast to, what's your name little girl?" he asked me.

"Jillian..." I shakily whispered, afraid to look you in the eye.

"A toast to Jill and her sacrifice for you lousy people who get to walk out alive. But the joke's on poor Jilly-Bean's fam, right, Jilly-Billy-ah? They walk alive and get to regret whatever they said that caused this hell-raising...but you didn't do it for them, or for any of these little low-life ants. You did it because Jilly-Bean thought her life was torture, that going with the kind clowns would save her from the shit she went through as a normal person. But oh, Jilly, we're gonna have some fun!" you took a big gulp of your beer and then smacked your red lips together excitedly with the feeling the beer gave you. You grabbed me by the arm, bringing the glass, and laughed crazily as you ran with me out to a white van, shoved me into the second seat, got in the driver's seat yourself, handed me the beer, and drove off, making sure your four bears were safely inside the van's back seat.

You didn't have a driver's license. I could tell from the fucking start.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Let's agree to disagree, shall we?" you slammed on the brakes as a red light flashed on. You whipped out a knife, leaned over me and held it to my throat.

"I disagree with your questioning, you disagree with your throat being slashed open." I nodded shortly, hoping you wouldn't slice my throat right then and there. But though I was afraid, I held no fear in my eyes. That would be weak. That would be stupid.

"Why did you sacrifice?" you asks as you screeched off at the green light.

"I hate the law. I hate my parents."

"That's not a real fucking ah, answer. You sacrificed yourself because ah, you hate your own life and want to find someone-nah who will give you freedom from that shit you hate. But I'm not freedom, and freedom is not what you crave. I'm fun. I like to have a blast. That's what you fucking crave. That's what you want. Anyone with enough sense to open their fucking eyes can see you're overworked, bored, and want something better in life. You're petty and stupid. Or I'm kidding with you, ah, fucking with your head-ah." you slammed on the brakes.

"Don't look at me." you said and I, being stupid, turned my head to look at you. You hit me very hard on the top of the head, and I blacked out, your hysterical laughing filling my ears just as I saw the darkness.

And no, I don't hate Maryland or any other state, it's just a story.

No flames, please, reviews are cyber cookies and they are WONDERFUL!