I've been running through family members faster than I thought I would. I just get too excited. The monster in my head starts to take over and she revels in blood and death. She's desperate, ravenous. When it comes to my family, she wants to execute each and every one.

Today it was Jess. I don't want to record what she said, it was nothing new. The same questions, the same shock, the same insults. Was no one else in my family creative? As everyone knows, the ingenuity of my mind is endless. I've already come up with more than I ever could have as Harleen. Even after all the things I had heard from my patients, I have delved farther and deeper and darker than anyone else I've known. Other than J, that is. My hatred of Jessica Johannsen was so deep I couldn't even find pleasure in the fact that she was still alone after all this time. No spouse, no children. Just her living off the beaten path in the woods. Frankie said her place looked like the creepy murder house in all the horror movies.

I gave her what is known as one of the worst forms of torture – the blood eagle. I found it online, during research on what to do with my family members. With the blood eagle, you keep your victim alive while you slice open their back, through the skin and muscle until you expose bone, snip the ribs so they can be pulled apart and open, then remove the lungs and intestines, and place them in the shape of wings. All while the victim lives. My cousin lay dying, dripping blood, unable to make a sound. What a sight.

The monster rejoiced and laughed in my head; the deepest, darkest, most devilish laugh I'd ever heard. It was the bloodiest thing I'd ever done and she has never been happier.

But tonight. Tonight was the greatest gift I could have given to my Puddin'. I wanted to perform a heist on my own; put my gymnastics skills to the test. There was a massive diamond that had just been loaned to Gotham Museum, and I was going to take it.

I didn't even tell Frankie where I was going. I dressed in a new outfit that I'd had made - a shirt that read Daddy's Lil Monster, sparkly hot pants, and a jacket that reads Property of Joker, the shorts and jacket split down the middle in color – blue on the left and red on the right.

I never even made it inside the building. While on the roof, I heard a grappling hook THUNK and the WHIRR of a so-called hero sliding down the line. I whipped around and saw none other than Robin.

"Hey there, Boy Wonder. Where's the Bat?"

"He's a little busy tonight."

"I just got here, how'd you find me already?"

"You're not so good with the silent alarms, Harley."

"Nobody puts silent alarms on the outside of buildings. How'd you really find me?"

"Right place, right time." He grinned.

"More like wrong place, right time. We got cut off last time, Birdie. You're mine now."

I didn't have my new baseball bat. I'd brought my mallet for old time's sake. And it was a good thing I did because he had his staff. We were geared up for a repeat of our last fight.

He stabbed the blade in my direction and I backflipped. When I righted, I used my mallet to knock his staff aside and launched forward, slamming my shoulder into his solar plexus. He was knocked off his feet and I swung my mallet down at him, just barely missing when he rolled. With a growl I swung again, catching his shoulder as he tried to flip onto his feet and he stumbled. He swiped out with his staff, the blade pointing out and it only just caught me in the stomach. My new shirt now bore two small tears, which was more upsetting than the scratches now on my skin.

My anger spun me faster. I wasn't going to back down this time. There was no Frankie to grab me out of the way. And if Batman showed up, well I'd deal with that when the time comes. I vaulted and tumbled over his head, landing behind him as he jumped to his feet. He spun, lashing out with his staff and I just barely ducked in time. I swung the mallet and he thrust the staff up sideways, catching the blow. I snarled, rearing back again as he sidestepped. He spun the staff and snapped the blunt end into my face. I fell hard on my side, almost feeling the breath knocked out of me, and he rushed me, stabbing with the staff as he came. I launched to my feet, just barely getting out of the way of his blade, then I flipped over his head and kicked him from behind. He stumbled forward, but when he turned I lifted the mallet over my head and brought it down on his shoulder. Then I repeated the motion with his other shoulder, like a violent queen knighting her candidate. He grunted and fell to his knees. One final hit, square on the top of his head, and he fell unconscious before me.

With a wide grin I pulled out my phone and tapped on the screen, texting J.

"I have the best surprise for you, Puddin'"

"Where are you?"

"Top of the museum. Send Jonny and the boys. Meet up after."

I had them bring him to my old apartment. Was it the safest place? Not at all. But it was great for the needed purpose. We tied him tight to the recliner before J made his way over.

"What's this, Pumpkin?"

"I got you a present!" I stepped back, gesturing to the chair.

He tossed his head back and cackled, "You caught me a bird."

"I did Puddin'! Wanna hit him with my mallet?"

"I have a crowbar," he looked to Jonny, who left the apartment to get it from the car.

"Oooo. … Can I go first?"

"I thought this was my present?" he laughed.

"Yeah, but … can I go first?"

He laughed again, "Go right ahead, my little one."

I want the knees. Smash the knees They made a glorious snapping sound. It only takes 15-30 pounds of pressure to break a knee. It's no wonder I've managed to destroy so many.

"Remember when Puddin' broke your little Lady Bat? … I think you're the one that's broken now."

He tried to answer, tried to yell, but we'd gagged him tight. I patted his head with my hand, "Don't worry. We're not done."

He tried yelling again, eyes dark and angry, wracked with pain. But it was Mistah J's turn and he spun the crowbar a few times as he approached. He lifted it high overhead and brought it down sharply on his left femur, starting above the smashed knee on the strongest bone in the human body. Thrice more he struck Robin's thighs, clobbering them with the thick metal. Then he pivoted the crowbar over his shoulder the way a golfer would and swung hard, connecting with the side of his shin. Over and over he brought the steel down on Robin's body.

I could hear the bones snapping and began to laugh. His arms, his legs, they were turning to bloody, soggy sacks. J used every last ounce of pent up rage to turn him into a piñata. Every strike was payback for what Robin had done to J. Every hit was vengeance poured on the hero's head. For the longest time he avoided hitting his skull, saving the best for last and keeping the man alive as long as possible.

Snapping bones is its own kind of music. Robin's screaming was unfortunately muffled by the gag but the breaking bones gave a melody that bounced around the room. Smashed hands, broken shins, then Puddin' slammed the crowbar into his chest.

HahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA

Blood slowly dribbled from Robin's mouth around the gag. While J lowered his weapon so he could rest a moment, I moved into Boy Wonder's field of vision, "You beat him bloody, you bastard. You smashed in his teeth and broke his jaw. You damaged my love. And that's why you're going to die."

He didn't even try to answer. He was reserved, like he knew it was the end. I went to Jonny and took his gun, a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum. Then I turned and aimed at our foe.

"Don't kill him," J warned.

"I would never steal that joy from you, Puddin'."

BANG

The bullet hit him on the right side of his chest, blood spurting when it connected. Then I shot through each of his feet. Then J reared back like he held a baseball bat and swung forward, smashing Robin's head with the full force of all his strength. I heard the CRACK of his skull from where I was standing. J raised his arms over his head and brought the steel down on top of Boy Wonder's head. It took a few more hits to open his skull than would have been needed for a watermelon, but soon it practically exploded, blood and brains splattering in all directions. All the walls of my old apartment bore some evidence of Robin's death.

Now Batsy is all alone in the world.

My laughter filled the room, "Ya know, I think this was a present for both of us."

"You are incredible, my Pumpkin Pie."

"How're we gonna tell the Bat?"

There was almost no point in killing Robin if we couldn't taunt Batman with his death. The Bat made things more fun, even if he did get in the way most of the time. Robin was just his sidekick, but they had been working together for a long time. There had to be some relationship there, right? And just how sweet was it that the Joker first stole Batgirl's legs and now took Robin's life? The kinds of things that Batsy's other enemies would have loved to have done, but no one else had been capable of it. Just J.

He grinned and then he laughed, "I know just the thing."

Before we left, he took a can of yellow spray paint from one of his boys and sprayed

HAHAHA
JOKES
ON YOU
BATMAN

on Robin's chest. Then we went to the top of the Gotham Police Station and turned on the Batsignal. We left a piece of paper with the address written on it taped to the symbol in the middle of the Batsignal, knowing that once the Bat discovered that the apartment used to be mine, he would know it was us that killed his partner. He would know it was my idea and once he saw the body, he would know why we killed him. Joke's on you, Batman.

How is he going to respond? I can't wait to find out …

J was riding a kill high when we got back home. Like my threesome high, he was absolutely wired. And his reaction to being wired was to launch into one of the most vicious sexual experiences I've ever been through.

He used nipple clamps again, also placing them on my lower lips, letting them pinch my labia painfully. Then he dragged me so my shoulders were on the edge of the bed and shoved my head down. Without a word he yanked open my mouth and thrust his erect member between my lips. After sliding in and out, thoroughly coating himself in my saliva, he shoved in further, pressing at the opening of my throat. I gagged and he pulled back slightly just so he could ram into me again.

"Open your throat," he growled.

I tried, but it was difficult. I've never managed to do it before, but he ignored my gagging and the tears that streamed from my eyes. He forced his way in and fucked my throat with his thick cock. Back and forth he went and a few times I tried to swallow so he could feel something different. He fucked my throat until my lungs burned and the edges of my vision began to darken. But when he pulled out and I sucked in air I felt that familiar gush between my lower lips. He slapped me until my cheeks turned a bright red, and then he moved to my ass. Even with how hard he had been hitting Robin he still had the strength to give me intense pain. It was like he wasn't tired at all.

He scratched me until I bled, leaving long red streaks down my back. And when he whipped me over, forcing me to lie on the wounds he'd just given me, he savagely ripped off the nipple clamps. I shrieked and he laughed, lowering to take my nipple into his mouth and bite down hard. I squealed as I came.

"Daddy," I moaned.

He grunted and moved his mouth to my other nipple, sucking hard before rolling it between those metal teeth. Then moved off my nipple and bit down on my tit, sucking to leave a hickey. He knows how much I love to be marked by him. He left teeth marks in his wake as he made his way down to my pussy. There he used his teeth to grip the clamps and tear them from my lips. I yelped and his mouth was on me, licking, sucking, kissing my most sensitive places. He bit down and pulled on every area he could, making tears of pain and pleasure drip down my face.

When he moved up to enter me, I put a hand on his chest. "Get your knife."

A wicked grin curved his features, "You want daddy to cut you, Pumpkin?"

"Pretty please, Puddin?"

He got up from the bed and left the room. When he came back, he had a purple and gold barber's straight-edge razor in one hand. He flipped me onto my stomach and climbed onto my back, his left arm winding around me and pinning my arms below us. With just a swipe of his thumb, the blade opened, glinting in the light.

"Is this what you want, little one?"

"Please, Daddy. Cut me."

His face lowered next to mine, both of us staring at the blade, "Where do you want this, baby girl?"

He brought the knife to my throat, the edge just barely touching to my skin, "How about right here? You want me to cut you here?"

"Anywhere you want."

His strong arm arched me backward and he brought the blade lower on my body, just to the left of my clavicle. Expertly he swiped. Hard enough to draw blood but not so hard as to actually wound me. I shrieked from the pain, soaking the bed below us and he laughed. "My good girl."

J flicked the blade closed and tossed it aside. I pouted, "More."

"Not this time." he used one hand to guide himself into me from behind and began to pump slowly before quickening his movements. Then he wound the arm that had been holding me around my neck and pulled tightly, closing off my airway and pinching the arteries that fed blood to my brain. He fucked me brutally, holding me in the headlock until I passed out and I woke up to his hands at my hips, pushing the lower half of me into the bed while he pounded me wickedly.

He scratched and whipped and fucked me hard, switching positions a few times before lying me on my side, one leg on his shoulder while the other was below him. In and out he rocked, slapping my face. He drove me to my peak and pushed me over it again and again, letting me stream and gush and cry out my orgasms. He felt so amazing, so virile and strong. He pinned me down and squeezed my throat, sliding his cock in and out endlessly. I never wanted it to end, the feelings of euphoria, the dizzy cloud that comes from lack of oxygen, the incessant pounding of his cock deep in my cunt. It was the perfect ending to the perfect day.