I stayed on the floor for hours, not letting myself think. All I could do was sob, and let the madness wash over me in unforgiving waves. I couldn't speak, and I had just enough control not to let myself scream; so only desperate, wheezing noises left my mouth. I vaguely wondered if this was what Dr. Crane's patients felt like when he administered his toxin. A thought brought on from madness, no doubt, because it was gone a moment later.

When beams of light started to shine through the blinds on my window, I began to start slowly moving again. I had stopped shaking and crying, I was just holding onto my legs, which were brought up to my chest, not looking at anything, but eyes wide open. I rose up on my hands and knees, my back cracking, before slowly rising up to my full height. I walked, with my hand on my back like an old woman, over to my bathroom. I needed a scalding hot shower, I told myself. I needed to wash away the impurity of him. It was only 7 am when I hopped out again, but I still felt unclean. The police hadn't even left me with any cleaning products, so all I could do was blast myself with water that made lava look luke-warm.

When I came out, I found my clothes and pulled them on, before walking over to the front door. I looked back behind me at the rose, still where I'd left it, and shuddered.

I'm not going to let this happen.

He will not win this time.

I am sane. I am sane.

Sane.

The door slammed behind me, and I made sure to lock it behind me. Not that a locked door would stop anyone, but it was more for me than him. I had grabbed my purse before I left, and I wandered down the staircase to the front of the building. The ATM outside was vacant, and I stocked up quickly on some cash. My accounts had been frozen whilst I was in Arkham, but now that I was out, I had full access again. I had planned on stocking up on a few personal items from the supermarket, just food, drink and soap, but then again I was never lucky.

I had just walked inside the store when the first light went out. The rest followed quickly, and cruel laughter slowly filled the dark space. Other men and women started to panic, people started screaming, before the voice spoke.

"Greetings, Gotham shoppers!" It cackled, waiting for everyone to quiet down. I backed up against the doors, which had been barricaded from the outside. I dug my nails into the skin of my palms. I knew that voice, had loved that voice. I feared that voice. "It has come to my attention that a certain person has entered our midst!" It continued, and I began to hyperventilate. No.

No, no, no, no, NO.

The Joker's voice crackled over the speakers as he let out more harsh laughter. Everything was pitch black, and my eyes were forming shapes in the darkness. I saw objects moving. People were talking in loud whispers, some were crying, others were panicking. It was all I could do to not scream. A flashlight burned into life, and I was temporarily blinded.

"Miss Harleen Quinzel..." He continued, sounding for a moment as though he were serious. "I'd like to thank you for choosing our humble grocer for your shopping needs. But then again, why wouldn't you? Our prices are to die for!" And with that, gunfire rang out. People screamed, lights flashed as the gunpowder ignited, and I was completely helpless. I had no doubt that the owner of the flashlight in my face was also holding a gun, and if I moved, I would be shot with no hesitation. So I cowered. I slid down to the floor and shoved my head into my knees, and tried to block out the sounds of death. I was slowly dropping out of reality, going into shock, probably, when the gunfire stopped. All was silent, but I still didn't move. I heard movement about me, and the suddenly the flashlight burned out. Burly arms grabbed me, and soft sack was placed over my head. It was all too much. I couldn't take it anymore. And as I was lifted from the ground, my mind went blank, and I left feeling behind. The focal point of my brain was on one phrase.

Madness is like gravity. All anyone needs is a little push.

I came to in a small, shabby room. I was seated on an uncomfortable stool, with my back against the wall. I groaned, and my hand went to the back of my head.

I hadn't noticed anything happening once my mind had gone blank, but I guessed I'd been brought in a car. The crick in my neck attested to that much. My vision slowly focused as I took in my surroundings, and went rigid. There, on the other side of a desk, sat my worst nightmare.

The pale face, dark eyes and blood red grin had been burnt into my soul, but the real thing was so much worse.

"Harley..." He drawled, peeling back his lips into a smile. He got up and walked around so that he was standing in front of me. I didn't move. He reached out a hand, and ran a dirty fingernail down the side of my face. The move repulsed me. It lit me on fire. I slapped his arm away and stood up. He was taller, but I didn't care. I glared straight into his dark, soulless eyes, and I punched him square in the jaw.

Even though I hadn't fought in a while, my strength had kept up. After all, I was still a gymnast.

He fell to the floor, and started laughing in his own personal, bone chilling way. He rolled onto his stomach, and I saw that his lip was now bleeding. He got up again, and moved to pin me to the wall, but I was faster. I ran over to the other side of the room, where the door was. Me and my fucking luck, it was locked. I looked back at him, and he was standing still, watching me. His right hand twirled his small knife fondly, almost absentmindedly, as he looked over every inch of my body. There was nothing sexual in the action, it was more the way a predator surveys its prey shortly before snapping it up.

"You've never done that before..." he mused, before slowly walking forward. I backed up, putting the desk in between us. He licked the blood from his lips, and began to pace around the table. I matched his actions. Apart from that, all I did was glare. "So, Arkham's gone and labeled you sane, eh? Congratulations. Not all of us can claim such a title." He chuckled darkly, and quickly switched to the opposite direction. His arm snapped out to grab me, but missed, thankfully. He glared, before continuing his slow pace. I spoke up.

"I've out grown you, Joker." My voice was rough, but my resolve was strong. He would not win this.

"You'll never out grow me, Sweets." He snickered. "I'll always be inside your head. You love me too much to pick me out yourself." Again, he changed directions, but I saw it coming. He was tossing his knife from hand to hand, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel his gaze probing down inside me, feeling for the madness he had planted. I was gaining confidence. He still thought he had me in his grasp. Time to prove him wrong.

"Love you?" I asked incredulously, still keeping time with his movements. "What part of 'sane' do you not understand?" He quirked an eyebrow at me, before laughing at the statement. I continued "The second you threw me from that window, I've had clarity in my mind. Not only are you sadistic, beyond help AND beyond the act of love, but you aren't worth it either. So I stayed in the asylum, and I listened to my doctors. And do you know what? They were right!" I spat the last word at him, and he mockingly wiped his eye.

"Oh how heart warming. I believe you. Go on then, go home and live your life, you poor abused CHILD!" He roared the last word, and slammed his hands on the desk, and stopped moving. Faster than I thought possible, he launched himself over the desk and pressed me against the wall, one hand on my shoulder, the other with the knife against my cheek. His entire body was pressing into me, and I was forced to look directly in his eyes. I saw no remorse, no sympathy, no sanity. Only madness. "Oh you poor dear..." He tutted, and he began moving the knife over my face. Not once did he brake the skin, but the threat was clear. "How many times did you sell that story for the shrinks, hm?" He grinned, and slowly slid the blade into my mouth. I could feel it pressing into the soft tissue of my bottom lip, and I let my mouth go lax so as to not aggravate any tiny cuts. "You seem to have forgotten that I don't buy into psychology. Every part of that science is biased, and you know it. All you've done is conform to the norms of society." He sighed, and thoroughly lost interest in me. He removed the blade from my mouth, and shoved me into the chair behind the desk. He sprawled on top of the desk on his back, looking at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. "You've gone and disappointed me, Harls. You aren't the girl I knew. Those quacks in coats have gone and turned you into this-" he waved his hand at me dismissively "-this wasted potential that's going to sit in a desk job for the rest of her life." I made to move from the chair, and his hand came crashing down on my shoulder. "Stay." He growled.

"No." I said simply, and yanked his hand out and downwards. There was a sickening pop as his arm dislocated from the socket, and he howled in a mixture of pain and laughter. I leaped out of the chair, and started to throw myself at the locked door. The damn thing would not budge. I swirled back to se the Joker nursing his arm, grinning at me.

"I wonder how many people would see dislocating someone's shoulder as sane..." he mused, before grabbing his arm and popping the joint back into place. I knew it wouldn't stop him for long. The Joker had a way of enjoying physical pain.

He got up and paced slowly towards me again. "Come on, Sweets... why not give in to the madness swelling up inside you?" He laughed maniacally, before he grabbed my arms, and began to swing me around the room. "Dance with me! Be mad with me!" He roared, as he swung me around in a circle.

"NO!" I screamed, and jumped up to throw my legs in his chest. He fell backwards, but never let go of my arms, so I went down with him. I was on top, so when he released my arms, I swung another fist into his face. He caught my fist, and reached up to grab a chunk of my hair, which he yanked down to the left.

We rolled over so that he was on top of me, crushing me into the ground. I didn't need to look down to know that his knife was back against my throat. He was breathing hard, as was I, and he began laughing madly again.

"Now, THAT was fun!" He growled. He was sweating, and his makeup was running into the grooves on his skin. He looked down at me with those dark eyes, and instantly I knew it wouldn't be quick. He was going to destroy me slowly, from the mind outwards, before he so much as made to hurt me physically.

I was a fool.

How I ever thought I could go back to a normal life was beyond me.

I would never be free.

He must have seen the realisation in my eyes, because at that moment, he doubled over, screaming at the top of his lungs that laughter that froze the blood in my veins.

I would always be the Clown Prince's Harlequin. Always.