DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the Joker or any other DC characters, only Julie and other OC's I implement into this book.
Crime & Chaos
" SNITCHIN' "
by alwaysgeia
Julie cowered around the corner, staring at the fat white door, a knife clutched in her shaking hands. After a couple of hours, she started getting tired and slid down the wall, digging the ball of her palms into her eyes, trying to rub away at the fatigue. Had I just escaped the Joker? Was that even him? 'Course it was, he wore the same purple suit, scars across his mouth, thin greenish-brown curls...
Rubbing her wrists, she was sure bruises were forming. They hurt.
A trying turn of the door-handle caused her head to snap towards it, pressing her hands against the floor to hoist herself up. With the knife pointed at the door, she waited.
The jingle of familiar keys virtually made her cry in palliation. As the door opened, her mum stepped over the threshold, finished with her shift at the hospital. "Julie, what-" Julie just dropped the knife and hugged her mum like she wasn't even sure she was there. Like she was an illusion.
Heavy tears fell from her eyes, crying into the front of her apparel, a string of snot hung from her nose and she wiped it with her coat.
"I thought you were- Oh, god, mum, he's after me. He's gonna- he's gonna kill me. Please-" she commenced spluttering gibberish, sobbing hysterically. Her mum grabbed her shoulders, shaking them faintly.
"Who's going to kill you?"
Julie blinked away the blur, looking up at her mother with terrified, bloodshot eyes.
"The Joker," left her trembling lips, barely a whisper, like he could appear when she said his name. If she convinced herself enough, saying his name three times would grant her his appearance.
Her mum laughed. She actually laughed at her terrified daughter.
"Why would a psycho like him go after a 17-year-old kid? I really doubt it, Julie." Her mum walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, hanging up her keys on the wall, unworried and amused, "I don't need this bullshit straight after a 10-hour-shift."
Her eyes welled up again, "you- you think I'm lying? He chased me down the fucking forest path and walked past the window! He knows where- where we live- I-" Panic was forcing its way through her body.
"Come off it. He was last seen near Gotham Bank, he wouldn't be anywhere near here. Anyway, you're not exactly that special." (You're a special little thing, ain't ya?)
"That was like a day ago! And how would that make me special?!"
With a roll of her eyes, her mum grabbed the cup of tea and walked up the staircase. "I don't know! Just go take a shower, you look filthy."
Julie couldn't believe this. An overwhelming sense of dread overcame her.
He was going to know she told someone.
Blood pounded in her ears. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her hands shook. Her feet tingled. Running up the staircase, she locked herself in her room, sliding down the door, her chest tightening. She couldn't think- the bed- she had to get to the bed. Crawling on all fours, she clung to the mattress, climbing onto it.
If she wasn't crying enough before, she was crying even harder now. It was hard for her to breathe through the sticky tears and the watery streak of mucous dripping from her nose.
The next morning, Julie awoke to the sound of her phone alarm. Mum must've put it on charge when I was asleep. Pressing the 'stop' button on the device, she clambered out of the warm bed. Looking into her tall mirror, she descried the same sweaty habiliments were still clung to her body from the precedent day. That reminded her.
Yesterday... the word alone made her stomach churn and her eyes watery. Panic was seeping through, slowly. Her stomach growled; she hadn't eaten since yesterday's lunch.
After a long shower of relentless scrubbing of her body to rid anything that he had touched, she changed into an unsullied outfit (a simple white blouse and tartan trousers, complete with a brown trench-coat) and gradually ambulated down the squeaky staircase. How she had the phrenic capacity to go to college, she had no idea. Have to pretend nothing happened, again.
Her mum was yare to leave as Julie entered the kitchen. Neither of them said a word. Julie just put a slice of bread into the toaster and waited for it to pop back up. Head remotely turned, she heard the slam of the front door - her mum had left now, and so had the tension. On Wednesdays, she finished college earlier and her mum worked later hours - what used to be relaxing alone-time, she dreaded it would become the impeccable torment of the Joker.
After the 30 minute ride on the bus (frequently checking behind her to make sure he wasn't stalking her), Julie made it to the college in one piece. No scarred maniac had been breathing down her neck.
As she stared at the board, the teacher's incessant explaining of how to properly health check an animal became quieter, until all noise drowned out completely. Her eyes were half-lidded as she stared out of the window, just waiting for a disfigured man in purple to wave at her, his yellowed teeth on display as he grinned that horrible smile...
Her eyes brimmed with tears, a stray droplet falling down her cheek.
"Julie?" Miss Hughes walked over, her round face full of worry. She strained away from the window and wiped her eyes, looking up at the teacher.
"Yeah?" She blinked a few times, making sure it was the professor who said her name.
Her gaze shot straight through her, face blank. The teacher's gaze shifted to the cut-bruise on her forehead for a second. "Are you okay? I know how hard these last few months have been for you with your dad... Pastoral support is available, you know?"
Julie just nodded. She has no idea.
With a smile and a smack of her lips, the teacher ambulated back to her desk. The smack of her lips wasn't equipollent to his; every smack he engendered with his daunting red mouth yelled with ascendance and danger. She rubbed her wrist subconsciously.
Several days had passed and there was nothing of the Joker, not even a whisper. The relief and peace the week had given her was complete bliss. He's bored with me, he doesn't care anymore. A smile tugged at her lips It was better to hope than to dread. Finally.
Julie slouched in her chair, her page turned at an angle whilst she wrote.
A boy sat in the desk beside her gasped, phone in one hand and his other raised. "Miss! Oi, miss! That Joker-clown-guy just stabbed someone's head with a pencil!"
"Can we watch the news about it?" Piped up a blonde girl. Please no.
"Ooh, and some pictures! He's so ugly."
Multiple others concurred, chatting excitedly amongst themselves.
A boy whispered to another boy, "did you see the video of the bank robbery the other day?" Yes.
"He put a grenade in someone's mouth!"
"That's some sick shit." Thanks, I recorded it.
Her stomach almost pumped its contents onto the desk at the sound of his name. Why were they so excited about this? They're just as sick as him... or they're just a bunch of teenagers who watch action movies.
The teacher mulled it over for a second, "I really shouldn't... okay, fine. Only a minute or so." As she probed for the GCN news on Google, many articles popped up.
Images of his face appeared on the screen next to a news reporter.
"Mob leader and one of Gotham's biggest crime lords, alongside Sal Marone, commonly known as Gambol, has been found dead with his both sides of his face split open. Another body had been found at the scene with half a broken pool cue impaled through his chest. There is currently no evidence to pinpoint a suspect, but many people believe this is the work of none other than the Joker."
Her fellow students were intrigued by this man, but not Julie. She wanted nothing to do with him. A strange kind of hope had filled her; her bus ride home might be easy if he had only just stabbed a pencil through someone's skull, as terribly fucked up as that sounded.
A mixture of feelings erupted in her stomach, she wasn't sure what to feel as she stared at pictures of the clown. Julie had only seen him up-close-and-personal without any makeup, and that was terrifying in itself. She dreaded to see him in full make-up. Mum's right, I'm not special. He's probably bored of me now.
With a grimace, she shook those noetic conceptions away. Why should she care if he got bored? That'd be better for her if he did, though. Those thoughts passed and lay forgotten. The paranoia was still fresh.
"Okay, that's enough clowning around," chuckles were scattered around the classroom at the teacher's corny joke, "we're going to health check some rabbits. Get changed into your PPE and come straight back to the classroom!" She said the last few words quickly as students were already filing out of the room.
It was lunch. Julie had exited the classroom and gotten changed back into her shirt and trousers, casually flipping out her phone to text her friends. She only had 3 friends, but they were the best she could've hoped for. Someone shouted her name over the crowd of students.
"Julie! Over here!" yelled a familiar voice. Beth was one of the three friends that she was closest to. Trudging through the mob of smelly students, she made it over to the table and pulled up a chair.
"Hello, ladies." Clarice walked towards their table, Maggie behind her. Everyone except Julie unpacked their lunches; an array of sandwiches, pasta and salads were scattered on the table.
Clarice cleared her throat, "so, girlies, my dad told me that Bruce Wayne is holding a fundraiser for Harold Dent - or whatever his name is - and said I could bring you all!"
"How? Oh, wait-" Maggie made a sound of knowing.
"Mhm. My parents are still connected with Wayne Enterprises. Goodie for us." Clarice bit her lip, apparently too excited for what she was going to say next, "I'm going to take you all shopping for dresses! Obviously, you'll have to pay me back but-"
"I'll just pay for myself. Thanks for inviting us, Clare." Julie smiled quickly and drank the rest of her water.
The four-friend-group chatted during the hour of lunch. Around 10 minutes before lunch ended, Beth had noticed Julie hadn't brought anything but a bottle of water.
A fundraiser? Well, Julie knew that was a codeword for 'party' and despite past experiences, she actually wanted to go. It would be a distraction (hopefully) from the fuckery in her life. Was this a god-send? She thought so. The water almost made her choke when she wondered if he had her followed, these random thoughts she had scared her sometimes.
Clenching her jaw, she glanced around at the other students sat at their tables - eating, talking, laughing along to jokes without a care in the world. They had a care-free luxury of happy, married parents and good education and functional families-
"Julie, why aren't you eating?"
Breaking her streak of silence and her wandering thoughts, Julie cleared her throat. "I'm, uh, on a diet." (Uh, toots, uh, toys, uh, pop, uh, huh?)
"Oh, good for you! I was actually thinking you needed one-" Clarice's voice got drowned out by the roll of her eyes and thoughts of the dreaded place she called home.
After two more classes (one where she had to deal with the attitude of a certain snide teacher, again), Julie's day had finished.
The bus ride back went by pretty quickly. Was it luck? No scarred maniac this time, either. Keep your keys in hand, Julie. Your luck might run out.
Walking down the forest path, keys clutched tightly in her fist, she was as alert as a dog hearing a knock on the door. Her house was a few feet away, but it didn't look homely. Not anymore. It loomed over her with a certain kind of mockery. Like, haha! He knows where you live, hahaha!
As she looked up at the windows, nothing seemed wrong. Even so, her brows furrowed in panic, he could well be in the house right now, hiding under the bed like the monster in her childhood... except this one was real.
Sucking in a breath, she put the key in the door and shut it quietly. Staying at the door for a minute to wait for a noise, holding her breath, she heard nothing, just the light drizzle of rain tapping on the windows. A heavy sigh of relief escaped her lips. Her cat ran down the hallway towards her, mewing for attention. If he was here surely her cat would be spooked?
"Hey, Bella." Julie gave the tortoiseshell cat a few pets, earning content meows.
Hanging up her coat and bag on the coat-rack, she kicked off her shoes in the middle of the living room; she'd move them later. Feeling more at ease, she turned to walk up the staircase, but something white stood out from the grey-and-yellow-decorated kitchen.
Lightly rubbing her bruised head, Julie ambulated over to the kitchen counter and looked at it.
She froze, her face turning pale. Reaching out a shaking hand, she held a Joker card in her fingers, bold, messy, upper-case writing scribbled onto it.
"ᕼEᗩᖇᗪ YOᑌ ᗷEEᑎ SᑎITᑕᕼIᑎG."
No... He wasn't bored of me. He's here, he's going to kill me.