After the carnival ended, Arthur didn't have a way to return home. He didn't want to go back anyway.

Being a runaway proved to be tougher than he thought. Arthur travelled along the only road in sight, staying near the edge of the forest. He spent a few nights sleeping on the hard ground beneath the trees. He sustained his hunger and thirst by picking fruits from the low-hanging branches. After each passing day, he walked forward just a little bit more to see wherever that road would take him.

On the fifth day since Arthur's escape, freezing rain poured down from the sky. His clothes got soaked and his teeth chattered from the cold. He was desperate to find someplace warm, so he decided to take a long run in hopes of seeking some shelter.

The wandering adolescent came across a small rural town after journeying for miles. He sat underneath the awning of a convenience store in order to avoid the rainfall.

A few witnesses noticed how sickly and out-of-place Arthur looked, so they called the police to report a lost child. Two officers picked him up and drove him back to Gotham City.

* * *

Arthur stepped into his apartment, still soaked in his wet clothes. His mother let out a gasp as she rushed up to him.

"Happy, oh my goodness! You had me worried sick! Your school called and told me you were missing! And I called the police every day to see if they found you. Oh, I'm just so glad you're alive," she said with an exhausted breath.

"You didn't show up," he muttered.

"What?"

"The play! You didn't show up!" he raged at her. "You know what would make me "happy"? Try fucking being there for me, for once!" His newly-developed voice cracked as he yelled.

"Don't you dare talk to me that way, young man."

"Why not? You let that asshole talk to you that way for years!" He was referring to her vicious ex-boyfriend, of course, who had always used offensive language.

She looked down, ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry I didn't come. I went to go check on my boss from my old job, Thomas. He's a dear friend of mine. I just wanted to see if he was doing well, since I was away for the year.

Arthur could not believe what he just heard. Some old boss from work was more important than her own son? Couldn't she have picked any other day to go?

"Fuck you, mom! Fuck! You!" he bellowed while pointing at her. Arthur stormed over to his room and slammed the door behind him. He sank down to his knees and leaned against the doorframe.

Penny knocked a few times. "Happy?" she called.

No response.

"Happy, I'm sorry I made you mad," she spoke. "But you have to go back to school. You're about to be expelled."

"I'm not going back."

"But you can't just—"

"I said I'm not going back!" he snapped.

"Okay, okay," she said with a sigh. "Then you need to look for work."

He didn't answer her.

"I'm trying to look for a new job myself, but not many places are willing to hire me. My savings are running low, and pretty soon I won't be able to afford all the bills," she confessed. "If you're really not going anymore, then you need to make money. Walk people's dogs, cut their grass... something. Please."

"Fine."

* * *

When Penny mentioned that Arthur would have to work one day, he didn't think that day would be so soon.

Arthur was on the way to a convenience store to pick up the daily paper. A newspaper would provide him with the latest job postings. Hopefully something would be available for someone his age, although it was rare.

Once he arrived at the store, he saw a "Now Hiring" sign on the window. He stepped inside the shop.

"Welcome," the clerk greeted. "What do 'ya need? You're not trying to buy tobacco, are you?"

"No. I need a job."

"You're in luck. We're lookin' for paperboys. When would you be able to start?"

"Right now."

The man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Are you in school, kid?"

Arthur paused. But before he could open his mouth to lie, the man shrugged with a dismissive wave.

"Ah, whatever. Doesn't matter as long as these papers get delivered. I'll bring out your first stack."

Each morning, Arthur rode a bicycle provided by the clerk, tossing newspapers onto people's lawns. He zoned out while making the deliveries, not really giving anything else much thought. The job didn't require much to think about anyway.

From time to time, the scar on his back would sting, followed by a pounding migraine. The painful sensations reminded him of something he couldn't exactly pinpoint. Even though Arthur was made aware of the abuse back at the hospital, he still had a hard time remembering anything that led up to that point. His frustration led to several breakdowns and panic attacks in public.

Arthur called the number to Social Services to reach out for help. They scheduled him for consistent psychiatry appointments. The doctors didn't exactly know how to cure his condition, so they prescribed even more medications, including the strongest of benzodiazepines.

Arthur's daily routine became rather mundane: Wake up, take meds, work, bring home dinner, take more meds, sleep. He didn't spend any time coming up with new jokes, and nearly forgot about his wish to make people laugh. Instead, his focus switched to getting his tasks done and nothing more.

Eventually, Arthur began to lose touch with reality. He became desensitized to the things around him. Food was tasteless. Noise was soundless. He was too numb to react to anything. Yet, even with all of that, his random laughter never went away like it was supposed to.

This period of his life continued for six years.

An 18-year-old Arthur was making his final deliveries of the day. He held a rolled newspaper in one hand while steering his bike with the other. The wind blew strongly, so he tried to hold onto the papers that were flailing out of his basket.

To no avail, the papers flew away and scattered all over the streets. Arthur jumped off his bike and tried to catch what he could. A loose sheet flew next to him and he caught it.

Out of curiosity, he browsed through one of the articles and found something rather interesting. In bright colors, he saw an advertisement for an unusual job position:

HA-HA's PARTY COMPANY: LOOKING FOR CLOWNS!

There was a cartoonish icon of a clown's face beneath the text. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe fate put that piece of paper in his hands to push him toward a fulfilling career.

Arthur took note of the company's address and immediately headed there.

* * *

Arthur arrived at the front desk of the party company. He approached the owner, who introduced himself as Hoyt.

"How can I help you, sir?" the older man asked. He appeared to be in his late thirties.

"I saw your job ad for clowns," Arthur mentioned. "I'm interested in working here."

"If you can blow balloons, you're hired."

Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. No application? No interview? That was fast.

"What's your clown name?" the boss asked. "Giggles, Bubba, Honker, and Squeaks are already taken."

Arthur brought a hand to his chin and pondered for a moment. He didn't know that clowns needed names. But a clever choice instantly came to mind.

"Carnival. I choose Carnival."

* * *

From that time on, Arthur joined a small group of other clowns. They taught him how to apply face paint and do tricks with props. They performed at birthday parties, backyard barbecues, and wherever else they were summoned.

The job didn't pay much, but Arthur didn't care as long as it covered the bills. At least it gave him the warm sentiment of making youngsters smile.

When the premiere of Live! With Murray Franklin aired for the first time, Arthur immediately became a fan. Every night, right as each episode would air, Arthur would take his prescriptions. The usual doses no longer had any effect on him, so he liked to double up on them while watching the show. Then he could really have fun.

That was the closest to genuine joy he'd ever felt. Even if his joy only lasted a little while, it was enough to inspire him to write jokes again.

As Arthur continued supporting himself and his mother, he slowly and unconsciously let go of his hurtful past. Every cut, burn, and bruise that was ever inflicted upon him was dismissed from his mind.

But no matter how much he forgot, the trauma carried on inside him. It lingered over him, altering his behavior and influencing every single choice he made. It made him laugh inappropriately around other people, driving them away in disgust. It inevitably made his future bitter and bleak.

Arthur rocked back and forth on the cushioned floor of his solitary cell, continuing to relive his most personal memories.