"Never fade,
Never die,
You give me flowers of love.
Always fade,
Always die,
I let fall flowers of blood."

-The Cure, Bloodflowers-

"But Puddin'! I was only trying to..." He drove his knee into her abdomen before she could finish her sentence. His eyes grew dark as he dug his long pale fingers into her frail neck. Too angry to speak, he threw her down onto the cold concrete ground and walked away from her knowing that her body couldn't handle any more, for now. He needed her to be able to function, no matter how much she angered him. He hated the feeling of need.

Harley lay still on the ground in her crimson silk negligee, rubbing her eyes trying to restore clear vision. She felt her warm blood drip down from her mouth onto the ground. A voice spoke to her; it was the same voice she had heard for years.

"It's just another stain to clean, don't let him know that you bled." She lifted her unsteady head and glanced across the room to confirm the Joker's absence.

She slowly rolled onto her feet and dragged her body across the room into a corner where she felt slightly safer. Her head was spinning as she noticed the trickles of blood she left behind.

"More to clean. Don't let him see. Don't let him know. Be strong." She curled up into a ball and tucked her head within her body. Like a neglected child, her sobbing was quiet. The voice kept speaking to her as Harley fantasized.

"He's holding you tight, stroking your hair, kissing your neck. He's sorry. He loves you, Harleen, He's always loved you."

Her weeping had become too loud and she knew it. She couldn't risk this. If he heard her, he would return. He will say to her, "weak, pathetic, nothing to me." He still has plenty of energy left.

She bit down on her arm to control the tears. Screaming into her own flesh, she saw that the ivory face paint had smeared onto the torn skin of her arm. A feeling of filth encompassed her body as she ripped off her mask and jester hat in terror. She stroked her matted fair locks of blonde, which rested upon her trembling shoulders.

"He loves you, Harleen, he'll never stop loving you." The liar in her mind won't stay silent for long. She rubbed her arms and spoke softly to herself.

"Love. What a concept." Harley needed the humour; she needed the smiles and the laughter. It was all she had. She felt comfort in staring at the flickering light above her. The room she was in was gray and cold, like Gotham itself. They had been on the move from place to place. He knew all of the best spots in town to slip away into. The Dark Knight had recently come too close to finding one of their hideouts. She wasn't even sure of where she was hiding anymore.

The night would prove to be a difficult one. A few rooms away from her own, Harley could hear the agonizing screams of a victim of torture. She didn't know he had already made plans tonight. If only she had known. His cackling laughter echoed through the night, finding endless pleasure in tormenting his victim. She was thankful that he hadn't taken all of his anger out on her. She may have met the same fate as the victim- a dead smile frozen on her lifeless body. This had become her life.

After seven hours of sobbing and scrubbing away at the stains of blood, Harley managed to find a door leading through to crime alley. "Anywhere but here." She thought. He wouldn't notice her missing for a few more hours, she knew his habits well. Or so she thought. His white face popped up from behind the door. He parted his blood red lips, revealing a pale yellow grin.

"H...Hiya Mistah Jay! I was just about ta. . ."

"Harley, dear, you know I'm not fond of this bleached hair of yours." Realizing she had forgotten her mask, she panicked and tried desperately to make an excuse.

"Oh, puddin', I'm sorry, I was...trying to sleep and..." He forced his gloved hand over her mouth.

"We're not going to have an incident like last night occur again, now are we?" His glowing eyes widened.

"He loves you, Harleen." The Joker looked down upon her bruised face smeared with white paint and black lipstick.

"N. . .No sir."

He pushed Harley against the brick wall. He whispered into her ear, "Sweet child." She could smell the stench of burning flesh that lingered on his purple suit. He lifted his hand and brushed it over her hair. Her heart was racing; fear had struck her very essence. What had she done? Was he angry with her? Could she make it right? He looked into her eyes as if she had just barely passed a test. He released her from his grip.

"Take care of our guest from last night, I don't believe she wishes to stay with us any longer." He stepped back from the trembling girl and walked away from her, fading into crime alley. Harley peaked into the charred room containing the smiling withered corpse of a young blonde girl. He knew that she would clean this up; he knew that she would find this.

"It's just a joke, Harleen."

Harley kneeled down before the lifeless body. Countless thoughts ran wild through her fragile mind. For the moment, she covered what was left of the body with a garbage bag. Her heart sank deeper as she cleaned each wall, each stain, and every piece of evidence from the atrocity. Just another morning as Mrs. Joker.

She replenished the grenade supply, washed a purple suit or two, loaded each gun, and organized every stick of dynamite by color and size. She couldn't tell when he would return; all there was to do now was wait. Wait for the next victim, the next torture, the next beating.

She stepped out into the streets of Gotham, out of costume, wearing a dark trench coat. She stole a newspaper from a local convenience store and slid it into her coat. Looking up at the dark clouds above her head, she was for once thankful for the predictable Gotham weather. The rain fell from the sky and hit her pale face. It was the closest thing she could get to a shower today. She rubbed the dried blood from her face. The black and white colors on her face twisted into gray, as she found herself holding back her tears again.

"Get it together, Harl..." She whispered to herself.

She sat beside an old bakery, enjoying the liberation she felt as the sky soaked her hair and drenched her dark clothing. She lifted her head up and watched the hooded, solemn people of Gotham pass her by. All she could hear was the heavy dropping of coins hitting the wet pavement by her feet. She dug her face into her hands and sat silently, savoring every moment that she was part of the world, even if she played the role of a lowly beggar.

The rain had slowed, and the black clouds were parting. The world could see her now, they all could see Harleen. The face of the once successful doctor must now be hidden, years of blood was stained on her hands. This was no time to take risks. It was time to go home, wherever that may be.

She wandered back to the hide out, only to find it remaining empty. All that lingered was the horrid smell of the girl that once was. Harley grabbed the newspaper from her coat and read the headlines...a recent robbery, a missing girl, a new scandal with the police force, and Ivy, back in Arkham.

"You're alone Harleen, not even she can help you now."

Harley combed her wet hair back and slipped into her costume. She noticed her negligee lying in the corner of the room from the night before. How she wished to forget that night, and so many nights before that. She gently brushed the dirt off with her hand and folded it. She rested her head upon the red silk, dreaming that one night, he would see her wearing the dress. He would hold her in his arms and whisper.

"Simply beautiful."

She was ripped from the dream when suddenly she heard the command from outside.

"HARLEY! GET OVER HERE!" She ran outside in the mist to find the Joker's hand reaching out to hers. He pulled fiercely at her arm, tugging her towards the street where through the clouded air she saw a cherry red car. He snarled at her.

"Come on! FASTER!" He lifted her body up over his shoulder. She giggled in delight.

"Puddin'! Where we goin'??" Harley smiled as the Joker swiftly carried her to the car. She gasped in excitement as her eyes widened with pleasure.

"Where'dja get this hot rod?" She asked curiously.

The Joker slipped into the passenger seat and grinned at Harley.

"Oh this old thing? It belonged to that blonde, I doubt she'll need it anytime soon. Now, DRIVE!" He laughed in horror, ever proud of his deeds. She quickly hit the gas pedal and the two were off into the red horizon of Gotham. She thought of the red silk lying in the corner of the cold, gray room. Lost, she didn't know what they were chasing or whom they were running from. It didn't matter anymore. As long as she could hear his sadistic laughter by her side, it was good enough for her. She smiled.

"He loves me."