3 Months? Years? Centuries? Later.
Harley hadn't had any human contact since tha night she was tossed down here and Larry had risked his life so that she would not die. Every few days, no that can't be right….it had to be longer than a few days…..weeks? Months? Maybe years? Food was left at the top of the stairs for her. No visits from nobody. No hope. No anything. If it wasn't for the fact, she could feel her heart beating and that she was breathing she'd think she'd died and gone to the seventh level of Hell.
The shadows were leering at her, holding all the evil she'd done in their eyes. The rats and roaches were her enemies in this god-forsaken place and she knew that they were conspiring against her in their weird little language of clicks and squeaks and hisses. She'd accidentally bumped into something that smelled strongly of rotten meat and in her hastened retreat she'd fallen backward onto a rat nest. The rats had been on her in an instant nipping at her with their sharp little teeth. She had brushed them off but she could swear that they still were nibbling on her. After that, she had stayed as close as possible to the bottom of the stairs.
She hadn't showered since that night either, so her hair was hanging limp and sweaty against her head. She probably had lice, because she was scratching her head constantly. Her costume was more of shreds of fabric than a costume anymore. She smelled worse than a pack of wild dogs. The wounds had become infected and the pus wasn't helping the smell, it reeked and she was sure that if she ever got outta here it would take about a million of Red's herbal medicines to fix her up this time. She wonders why nobody has wondered where she is. She's sure that it's been at least a year since anyone's seen her; maybe Red just thinks she's dead.
Yeah….that's why Red hasn't busted in and saved her, Red hasn't seen her in forever and so she figures that the Joker's finally killed her. Nobody….nobody was gonna save her this time. She might as well die….nobody knew she was alive down here. Mistah J obviously had forgotten about his little Harlequin marionette. She couldn't make it to the top of the stairs, because of her leg. The leg was red, swollen, pus-filled and gross.
If she could make it to the top of those towering stairs that went up forever, she could bang on the door…..and maybe Mistah J would remember she was down here. She manages to stand for a second before collapsing onto the cold, uncaring concrete. She crawls forward trying not to aggravate the wound on her leg anymore than it already was. She makes it halfway to the top of the stairs before falling back down with a moan. The darkness surrounds her and she feels the world slipping, slipping, farther, and farther, away from her. The last sound she hears is a gasp and feet running, no….running wasn't fast enough to describe tha staccato pace as the feet came, flying? Flying down the stairs towards her, with that she relinquished her hold on the conscious world and slipped into the peaceful bliss filled world of her unconscious reality.
The safe haven was, where she was with Mistah J at a picnic. Eating a hamburger and fries while he told her jokes and cuddled her. Red was there laughin' and eating a salad, but it wasn't tha same Red she knew it was a Red who actually liked Mistah J. That was the only problem with this dream world….she knew that this could never, ever happened because Red would never like her Puddin'. So it wasn't real…and she was still in the dark, cold, scary basement.