Dr. Harleen Quinzel sat on her queen sized bed wrapped snugly in her black and red comforter. She leaned her back against a pile of pillows and a book propped on her knees.
Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, thin wisps framing her heart shaped face. Black framed reading glasses sat perched on her slightly upturned nose, ornamenting her delicate features. Perfectly painted lips silently mouthed the words on the page.
She twirled the metal bookmark delicately between her forefinger and thumb, absentmindedly. Looking up from her book momentarily, she watched as the tiny charm shaped like a tiny harlequin clown danced and bobbed with the movement of the slender metal hook. She was never really into these trashy novels where the so called heroine was made into a quivering mess of hormones and emotions but this one really called to her.
"Whatcha reading?" asked a deep voice from the doorway.
She peered at the man who had just entered the room. His dark hair still damp from his shower clung to his forehead and neck, stopping short of the plush towel that was draped around his bare shoulders. She held the book so he could see the title.
"Joker's Wild?" he read aloud. "Isn't that some kind of trashy romance novel? What made you decide to read something like that?"
"It just sorta spoke to me," she said, her accent thick with the sounds of Gotham itself.
He walked over to the bed, sliding beneath the comforter. She scooted over partly to make room for him but mostly because she knew another unwarranted display of affection was coming. Just as she expected, he started nuzzling her neck and attempted to slide the strap of her camisole down her soft, pale shoulder.
"Not tonight Billy," she stated, annoyance lacing her voice.
"Goddammit Harley, ever since you started that fucking job at Arkham you just ain't fun anymore!"
"Billy, the case they started me on is huge and is so interesting," she stated excitedly.
"You used to find me 'huge' and 'interesting' but whatever. Is it that Mr. J character you've been going on about?"
"Yeah!" she exclaimed.
"Why do you find this guy so interesting anyway?"
"He's just so powerful and amazing," she said dreamily.
"You kind of sound like you're falling for this guy," he responded with a laugh.
She blushed and smiled at him sheepishly.
"Harley! You can't be serious!" he bellowed, shaking her shoulders violently.
She stared at him, eyes wide in confusion.
"Harley, he's insane! A criminal! And considering he's in Arkham, probably a monster! Wait..." he was silent for a long moment, deep in thought. "Mr. J..." he repeated, "Mr. J..." his eyes grew wide with shocked horror. "Harley! You're in love with the Joker?!"
"Maybe I am," she said with a dreamy look in her eyes.
"I can't believe you!"
"What concern is it of yours?"
"We were supposed to get married in two months Harley!" he yelled indignantly. "I love you and care about you. I don't want you to get hurt."
He brushed his fingers along her jawline tenderly. Leaning forward, his lips mere inches from hers. She turned her head before he could land the kiss.
"Harley please don't do anything you will regret! If not for me then do it for yourself!" he pleaded with her, desperately shaking her shoulders again.
"What makes you think I will regret it. Once I help him escape we can be together forever."
He smacked her sharply across the face trying to make her snap out of this horrifying delusion she found herself in, "Think about what you're saying!"
She stared at him blankly, "I have thought about it."
"You can't help the Joker escape from Arkham! Do you want to end up there too?! To throw away everything you've worked so hard for?!" he screamed shaking her violently.
She looked at him and laughed, not the normal melodious laugh that he had grown to love. This was viscous and far more sinister. He smacked her again, still hoping she would regain some semblance of who she had been. Her face and hair whipping around with the force.
"You know, it's funny. I hadn't decided what to do about his other request until now."
"What request is that?"
"He said we could be together if I kill you."
She suddenly plunged the metal stem of the bookmark deep inside his temple up to the hook before he could react. She cackled madly as the blood covered her hand and forearm. Retracting the makeshift weapon, she thrust it into the side of his neck, blood spurting from his jugular and staining her pale pink camisole.
Climbing on top of him, she repeatedly stabbed him in the chest. She watched as the life slowly drained from his eyes. His last breath coming out shattered and broken.
She stopped, staring at the man that lay beneath her. His lifeless body convulsed with the sudden destruction of his brain. Slowly, she curled her body to a standing position, watching as the blood pooled around her feet.
She stooped, dipping her fingers in the pool of blood that surrounded the lifeless corpse. Eying herself in the mirror, she took in her blood soaked appearance. Slowly and meticulously, she painted a large red smile over her lips. She looked in the mirror with a smirk and then back to the body of her dead fiancé.
"Sorry Puddin'," she said with a small shrug, "but I'd do anything for Mr. J."
This is a far cry from what I normally write but stress and unhappiness builds into anger which creates things like this that don't want to vacate your head so you have to write them. I feel that as long as I'm writing something like this and not actually killing/ hurting anyone that I should call that a win! Happy reading or whatever you should say about reading something like this!