A/N: Hey everyone! Hope you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you enjoy this one just as much. This story is almost over, only one or two more chapters now! Sorry this chap's a bit short, I couldn't make it too long or it would go into the next chapter and disrupt the flow. I hope you like the plot twist in this part as well lol!
Enjoy!
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Lizzie finally put the image of the burning tower out of her mind when the Joker spoke to her. "Well done with the Wayne job, Lizzie!" He praised her. "I'm so glad I found you, I knew instantly you had the potential...There's another, umm, job for us around the corner. You up for it?"
Lizzie almost gasped. What? No! She hadn't expected this, she hadn't planned this! There wasn't supposed to be another job so soon! She had bargained on a few days at least!
You could always say no, she reminded herself. But he'll think something's wrong if I refuse! She screamed in her mind.
Please let it just be burning someone else's house down, with no one in there! She prayed, and pasting on a harlot's smile, she agreed to the job eagerly.
The Joker's eternal grin widened. "Good...Stop here!" He commanded. The car screeched to a stop, and Lizzie looked out the window, surprised to see that it was dark, almost midnight. Wow! We must have been driving for hours.
She was content to wait, let her eyes adjust to the dusky darkness, but the Joker wasn't that patient.
"Come on, firebug!" He cried, leaping out of the car, giggling in excitement. Is 'firebug' supposed to be endearing? Lizzie wondered. She jumped out of the car too, doing her best to seem enthusiastic, and looked up at the large house in front of her. The home was built on a large square of land, made of sandstone in a lovely shade of cream, with blue terracotta tiles adorning the roof. It was pretty, and it reminded Lizzie of her own home. Her heart ached for the old days, so far in the past now. She wondered if she would ever make it back there alive. She grinned at the Joker, and they stepped through the dainty little white gate, and stalked together up the cobbled pathway.
After breaking open the door with a crowbar (quietly, surprisingly) they crept along the hallway, with the Joker humming 'Tiptoe through the Tulips' softly behind her, Lizzie asked the question that had been playing in her mind since she had first seen 31 Birch Crescent. "What are we to do?" She hissed, trying to sound as if she didn't really care at all, though, being in a state of high nervousness, this was hard. The Joker turned and smirked at her.
"Paying homage to the Batman." He replied. "With any luck, when he sees the impending slaughter in this house, he'll go mad too! Ha!" He laughed. "I love this job! Here," he handed Lizzie his switchblade. "Ladies first!"
How did he get this? Lizzie mused. He gave it to me just before I burnt the Lep...ugh. Her mind shied away from the memory instinctively, and she crinkled her nose up as if she smelled something bad.
The Joker cleared his throat and rolled his inky eyes towards the door, indicating that she was to go through it. Lizzie looked at the little sign on the door, it was homemade and in messy letters, it read:
BETHANY =)
Lizzie twisted the doorknob and switchblade in hand, sneaked in.
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The little girl named Bethany is in here, lying asleep, snuggled into the flower bedspread, strands of bright red hair spread on the pillow. I envy her in sleep, envy that she has no nightmares, or if she does, nothing that is truly horrifying. I look at the perfect, smooth-skinned face of the five year old. I can't do this! A not-so-innocent man is bad enough, but a little girl, her life new and barely lived; it is death to commit this! But is it her or me? I want to scream, but I can't, he'll hear me and know something's not right. I'll bet he never had a moment of indecision in slaughter, the horrible, sadistic b-
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The Joker's voice interrupted Lizzie's turmoil. "Hurry up, Lizzie!" He hissed to her from the doorway, and that was when the little girl woke up.
"Mommy?" She whispered, looking up at Lizzie with horrified green eyes, the colour of chartreuse. In the moonlight seeping in through the window, Lizzie looked like an evil witch, straight out of a little child's nightmare, with her chalky skin and her flowing ebony hair, and most of all, the silver knife blade flashing in her hand. Hearing the little girl speak, it shattered Lizzie's heart, her resolve.
"I'm so sorry!" She sobbed, raising the knife over her head. The little girl started to cry too, sensing her death approach. Lizzie closed her eyes and stabbed down.
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An explosion of cussing behind me, the likes of which I've only heard in pubs. Just as I plunge the knife down, a hand grabs my wrist, its taut fingers twisting my arm around. I hear a sickening snap, then a piercing scream of agony. I think it's mine. I drop the knife, which I had been aiming towards my own heart, it clatters to the floor. The person, if it is me, is still screaming. My arm hurts so much! A gloved hand grabs my chin and jerks it up, and I'm staring into his god-awful face again. The clown looks furious, though that's impossible because he's still smiling."Bad choice, idiot Lizzie!" He murmurs, stroking my cheeks, they feel wet, I am crying. I can hear frantic footsteps in the hallway, coming nearer every second. He draws the fist not holding my chin, and lets it snap forward. His clenched hand smashes into my jaw. Everything goes back.
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The Joker pulled out a gun just as Bethany's parents sprinted, out of breath, into her room. Not bothering to shoot them, he aimed the gun towards the girl's window. He pulled the trigger and the window shattered, the tiny pieces of glass falling to the floor like sharp, cutting rain.
"Follow us and she dies!" He snarled, indicating Lizzie on the floor. He scooped her up and handed her to an accomplice who had mysteriously appeared outside the window. Then he cackled and leapt out after them. Lizzie, in the clown accomplice's arms, groaned, and her eyelids fluttered. She remembered the Joker's furious face, the way he'd snapped her arm effortlessly. The pain had been so great, but it was dulling now. There was a lot of pain in her chest, whether she'd actually stabbed herself or was just broken hearted, she couldn't tell. Lizzie was fading. This is it, she thought. This is the end.
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A/N: By the way, this is not the end.
