"You heard me," Joker mocked.
"I'm not doing it, chain me to a pole like a dog, I don't care, I refuse to do this," I snapped, he finally crossed the line.
"Oh stop whining, neither Crane or myself need much sleep, so you'll be alone half the time, and, what's rarer still; is when we actually both feel like sleeping at the same time, so you won't have to worry about it," Joker retorted, half serious.
"Oh dear god," I muttered, thinking of those two asleep in the same bed, it's so hard not to laugh.
"What, realize it's not all that bad?" Joker asked.
"No, I was just always under the impression that you were straight," I replied.
"Ohhh I'm as straight as a line," Joker said, pulling out another switchblade, "as straight as a line."
This man seemed to be made of sharp edges; he never seemed to run out of some sort of knife, and or gun. I swallowed hard; this time I pushed him off the edge. Joker was grinning maliciously, and I could see he wanted to kill me and I prepared for the worst; I shut my eyes, and waited, the sick feeling of déjà vu rising. Only this time, something did happen; a deep searing pain ran through the area near my right wrist leading down to the arm. I felt blood trickle down and it stopped momentarily, then I felt it again, in the same area, and trying not to scream or show a trace of pain was difficult. When the second one stopped, I gasped, and started breathing hard.
"That'll be a reminder to every one," Joker stated.
I opened my eyes and looked at my wrist, there, visible underneath all the blood was a large, jagged 'J'.
"What now you're branding me?" I asked out raged, I wasn't his private property, nor did I want to be.
"Don't want some nut case taking you away from my protective care, now do we?" he mocked.
I stopped, realizing I shouldn't push him, and just stood down. Joker left soon afterwards, giving me piece and silence. I lay back on the bed, hoping I would fall asleep before anyone came; but I should have learned by now.
"By the way," Joker said, making a re entrance, "this is for you, figured you might need some way of entertaining yourself since you'll be stuck here for awhile."
With that he tossed me a box that rattled slightly when I caught it. I looked up to ask him what he was playing at, but he'd already left.
"He sure is strange," I noted on the obvious.
I opened the box and inside was my sketch book.
"What the hell is he playing at? And was he in my house?" I shouted, urge to kill him increasing.
Who knows what else he could've done while he was there. Oh crap I left my journal on my desk, and I thought leaving it out with two prying brothers was bad, even if it had a lock! Is it in here o did he just read it at my house, or take it with him. Oh man, I'm dead either way, every things in it, my fears, secrets, everything! It's pretty much the tool he needs to break me!