Note: I don't own the Joker. I do own Sky.
I really hope you guys like this! I'm sorry that I update this so rarely. It's terrible.
But anyway, enjoy. I hope you all had wonderful holidays and a happy New Year to everyone!
To Heal Your Scars
Chapter Twelve. Realization.
I sat in my room for ages after he left. Not able to fall asleep, not able to do anything but stare at the ceiling… all the while wondering what the Joker was doing, and wondering what he was planning to do with Bruce. I missed Bruce terribly, but I found that even after hours of the Joker not bothering [or abusing] me, I missed him too. I tried to convince myself that I was just lonely, not actually missing the sadistic bastard… and spent far too long on that.
I was relieved when, for some odd reason, my eye started to sting painfully in the corner so it could distract me from my thoughts. It was an eyelash, I noticed. I decided to let it stay there until my eye started to tear up so I rubbed at it until it was eventually gone. And then I lied back down on my bed for about another half an hour.
So. Damn. Bored. It had been hours since the Joker had abruptly left me, cold and wet after trailing an ice cube oddly sensually across my body, and then stormed out of the room. Yes, stormed out would be the correct wording. We had both been on my bed – me lying down feeling rather exposed in front of him while he sat on the edge staring intently at me – for about 10 minutes. And then, without warning he jumped up from the bed and stormed out of my room, jolting me out of a somewhat peaceful state. So, I was left alone with nothing but trails of water and makeup smeared all over my pain-riveted face and body.
Eventually, I fell asleep.
Tossing.
Turning.
Dreaming.
Nightmaring.
And waking up feeling thoroughly unrested before falling back asleep only to have the cycle repeat again.
In my dreams, the same thing kept happening. I was in my room, sitting on the bed and there were too many purple blankets and pillows. About a dozen of each. It was so comfortable. I lied back in the bed, smiling, even though I knew that the Joker would come in soon to probably hurt me again. But I felt peaceful. I felt so strangely happy, I laughed for the first time in so long. I heard footsteps echoing down the hall and I wanted to yell at the Joker to go away, but I knew that I couldn't. I was too scared.
And then, instead of the Joker, Bruce walked into my room and sat down beside me. He held me tight and told me that everything was ok. Tears poured down my face, and Bruce kept holding me for what seemed like a perfect forever. And then, he pulled away and said that no one would ever hurt me again. That I was safe forever. I smiled and I was about to take his hand when I noticed something.
"Why is there makeup on your hands?" I asked him.
"What?" he replied, looking confused.
"There is makeup… on your hands. Look." He lifted up his hands for me to see. There was nothing on them.
"You poor thing…" he said comfortingly. "He's scarred you. He's not here anymore… it's just me, Sky. It'll be ok. Everything will be fine. He won't scare you ever again." He leaned in again, but instead of putting my head on his shoulder like before he leaned in and placed his lips on mine. They were soft and cool. I closed my eyes and deepened the kiss, pulling him closer to me. I ran my hand through his hair… and felt long curls. I gasped and pulled back, only to be facing the Joker.
"Where did Bruce go?" I demanded, scared. The Joker smiled. "He said that everything was ok… that you would leave me alone… that you wouldn't be near me anymore…" I was terrified. I wanted him gone. The Joker leaned in close to me.
"Oh Sweetheart," he said in a malicious whisper. "You'll never be rid of me."
I woke with a start, then fell back asleep, each time the dream varying just a little. This must have continued for about three hours before I heard metal slam against metal and footsteps echoing, getting closer to me. Still delirious from sleep, my eyes were still closed and I couldn't decide whether I was experiencing reality or dream.
"Wakey wakey, Sweetheart," a voice whispered in my ear, and I knew that not even in my dreams could I have imagined a voice drip with evil as pure as that when saying something so seemingly innocent. I opened my bleary, bruised eyes and stared at the smeared face before me, grinning like I was his favourite person in the world. It didn't take my fully-awake state to realize that when he was this happy, it usually meant trouble for me.
"Please…" I mumbled pathetically. "Please don't hurt me…" I squeezed my eyes shut when I heard him chuckle softly.
"Oh no," he whispered. "I won't hurt you again… right now." I opened my eyes again, startled to see that his face was inches away from mine. He was studying my face intently, his eyes roaming all over it, taking in my chapped lips, my little nose, and my red eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep. "Such a beautiful little girl," he said quietly. "Like a delicate little doll."
"So you think bruises all over me is beautiful, huh?" I asked. Sure, I used to have a half-decent face. But now I looked like I'd barely survived a train wreck.
"Oh on you they are, Sweetheart." Another chuckle. "Let's, uh, get you out of bed, shall we? Get you into some decent clothes." With horror, I realized that I had fallen asleep without putting any clothes on. I was still just in my bra and panties. Purple, of course. With black trim. They were cute. There was even a little button clasp at the top of the panties, black with purple polka dots. "Or maybe," the Joker said, as though he had been reading my mind. "We'll just let you stay in the outfit you're in now." I blushed as I felt his eyes roam all over my body.
"No… I want to put my clothes on," I spoke cautiously, quietly. And with a sudden jolt, I realized that I was terrified of him. I'd never given much thought about it, oddly. But almost every word I spoke was full of caution. I was always afraid of him. Always afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of dying. Rarely did I speak my mind. I felt absolutely… pathetic. It had to end. This little game of fear and hate. It needed to stop. Right then, and right there. I got up and walked to my closet.
"No Princess," the lecherous man spoke. "I like your outfit that you're wearing now. Keep it on." No.
"No." There was a noise of surprise. Clearly, the Joker wasn't used to me standing up to him anymore. When he first found me, he liked it. Let's see how he likes it now,I thought to myself.
"No?" A laugh. "No? My, my! You are getting confidant, aren't you?" I ignored him and started going through clothes that I wanted to choose from. Some sick part of me wanted him to get mad. I wanted him to hurt me again and again. "And I was beginning to think you'd lost your spark! How wrong I was." I could hear the smile in his voice. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to make him mad.
When I heard him get up from the bed, I froze, thinking I'd won. But he came up behind me and, shockingly, wrapped his arms around me. His head bent down and his lips were at my ear. "My feisty little doll's back, then, is she?" His breath was hot. It made me sick. And then, something within me snapped. I was suddenly furious. I was tired of the endearing little names. I was tired of the fake kindness. I was tired of the mood swings. I was tired of being his toy. I was so, so tired. So I turned around to face him, the front of my body pressed up against his.
"I am not your fucking doll!" I shoved him in the chest, surprised that I caused him to stumble backward. "Why?" I yelled, "Why did you take me? Why are you using me to get to Bruce Wayne? Why do you do everything you can to hurt me?" At this point I was screaming. I'd never felt so angry in my life. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you get some sick pleasure out of my pain? I'm tired of it!" I liked the look I saw on his face. It wasn't the smug little look of amusement anymore. It was just… blank. " You know what? Just hit me. Hit me until I bleed. Bleed me fucking dry. I just. Don't. Care." I felt electric. I felt like I could do anything while the Joker just stood across from me, for the first time since I'd met him absolutely speechless.
And then slowly, he turned around, and walked out of the room.
