Rachel Dawes was sitting on her porch, a cup of black coffee in her hand and an unlit cigarette between her pouty lips, as if she didn't have the energy to light it.
Smoking was a nasty habit, but whenever she got really stressed, she had to smoke a few.
She couldn't go to work that day, she'd fall straight asleep at her desk.
She had been kept up all night by the horrifying acts on the television. Five school-kids were murdered, hung up on the flagpole at their school. People tried to make it seem like it could have been anyone, but it was oh-so-obvious who it was. Those kids couldn't have been more than twelve. Her friend Peggy's daughter was one of them.
When Peggy called her, crying her eyes out, Rachel didn't know what to do.
She couldn't possibly understand the death of a child, of your own child.
The funeral was on Thursday, and she had even told Peggy she couldn't go.
She was afraid of that. Death.
Hell, she'd only been fourteen or fifteen when the Joker started his murders.
The motherfucking Joker.
God, seeing him in person, at that party?
His gruesome painted face, the way he kept tounging his scars.
She couldn't sleep for days.
It wasn't quite insomnia, the doctors said. Whenever something traumatized her, she would be kept awake. Temporary insomnia.
When she did sleep, she dreamt of only one thing.
The Joker.
These dreams were not always flash-backs and murder fantasies.
She thought of him kissing her, touching her...
stop.
Do. Not. Go. There.
She kept trying to block those stupid fucking thoughts out,
but she couldn't.
They just kept coming back, at the worst moments.
She put the cigarette back in it's box, and poured the coffee into the sink, going inside and flopping down on a lounge chair, curling up and making a feeble attempt to go to sleep. After a long while, she dozed off. Somewhere between sleep and conciousness, she heard the window open quickly, and close shut.
She rolled over, and saw a box of cards.
She grabbed it, and opened.
Instead of the usual deck, she found a note, folded up into a little square.
It took a while to unfold, but once she did she began to read, and the first line made her heart spring up to her throat.
Hello, Beautiful,
Guess who? Well, I decided to write you this little note just to make you aware that I know where you live. A crude, smiley face with x'es for eyes. Guess you better be a little more careful undressing in front of windows? Actually, don't be more careful. I don't mind. I've been thinking about you since Harvey's little get-together, and I'm almost positive that you've been thinking about me, too. Since all of this thinking is rather pointless unless there is some doing, I've decided to pay you a visit. Do not try and report this to the authorities, because I think a little talk is a lot easier than a slit throat. If it comes down to that, I might have to do just that.
I am a man of my word
-J
Rachel reread the note a couple of times over, and calmly walked to the door and locked it.
She couldn't be too careful.
He was, after all, a man of his word.