It was another nightmare that forced Arella awake almost half an hour ago. The dreams were coming fewer and far between than they had been when she first arrived but nothing had changed. The screams still tormented her and reminded her of where she was. And the easier life seemed to get while she was awake, the guiltier she felt when she dreamed. With each passing day that she was so near to the Joker and the both of them remained breathing, she felt more and more responsible for the crimes he committed.

It had now been a little over a week since the Joker stabbed her and forced her to stay in this room. And as resistant as she had been to the idea in the beginning, it wasn't nearly as bad as she had been suspecting. She had begun to realize that even though she had been here for months now, she knew nothing about him. He was still gone for most of the day and she had quickly learned that, in spite all the evidence to the contrary, he was normally pretty quiet. Focusing more on whatever papers he had brought in for the night until she fell asleep or simply ignoring her as he sharpened his knives near the window.

For the first few nights, that change unnerved her. As far as she could tell, he was simply angry. But it didn't take long for them to settle in comfortable silence whenever they were both present in the room. Some nights, she pressed for conversation, bored with the relative silence that she spent the day in once Louie had gotten tired enough of her to run around the rest of the hospital. It was rare, however, that she got more than thirty minutes of conversation out of him before he shut down and pretended that she wasn't there. It was as if his jovial personality was simply another aspect of his costume that he put on when needed. If she were completely honest with herself, she preferred this new version. The jittery nervousness that she used to feel whenever she would be forced to occupy the same space had mostly dissipated and instead, they both seemed to tolerate the other's presence with a sort of tentative resignation.

Tearing her eyes away from the beamed ceiling that she had been staring at while trying to force herself to sleep, she turned to her right, her eyes coming to rest on the Joker's back as he slept on his side away from her. He still wore his purple pants, though, his favorite ones judging by how often he wore them. She could see his shoulders rise and fall steadily as his bare back taunted her like a target. It would be so easy to end it. To end everything. He had practically given her a blueprint the last time he took her to the fridge to practice. The image of her sinking a knife deep into his skin was exciting, almost motivating. But the distraction from her oppressing thoughts didn't last long.

She wasn't a killer. Not unprovoked anyway. And no matter how much she hated him…hated being here, she wouldn't kill him. She could barely even be bothered to try and escape much less kill a sleeping person. And though the fact that he hadn't completely turned her into a killer yet was something that should have been a small comfort to her, the realization that she rarely thought of escape much tore at her conscious. And on nights like this one, it was too much to bear. Whether she liked it or not, he was winning. And she was so broken that she couldn't even remember to fight.

She turned her eyes back towards the ceiling with a soft sigh, feeling tears well up in her eyes even as she tried everything she could to hold them back. But both the thoughts and emotions were relentless. Sniffling, she wiped a tear from her cheek feeling a sudden urge to get out of the room. She was about to lose it. These emotional storms were rare these days but she could feel the pressure building up behind her eyes and, though the Joker was sleeping now, she didn't want to risk him waking up and seeing it.

Holding her breath to try and keep herself calm for a couple more minutes, she quietly climbed out of bed and swiftly walked around the frame towards the bathroom, being sure to keep her eyes on the ground like she had become accustomed to doing. After the first few nights, she had also noticed that unlike the state her pillows had been left in after the two nights he had spent in her bed, his were perfectly clean. Though he nearly always went to sleep after her and was always awake and dressed before she roused, it was obvious that at some point during the night, he took his makeup off and washed the neon green temporary dye from his hair. The thought intrigued her and she considered catching a peek but having just been punished for invading his privacy, she resisted. Doing everything she could to avoid seeing.

Entering the small bathroom, she pushed the door almost closed to avoid the click of the latch before flicking on the light switch and leaning against the wall, feeling a fleeting moment of relief to have made it without waking him up. It wasn't long however before everything came rushing back at once and her face crumpled, the pressure forcing tears out of her eyes. Clamping her hands over her mouth tightly she slid to the floor, letting out muffled sobs as she huddled in the corner against the cold tile, trying desperately to force herself to calm down. But no amount of mental soothing, no amount of affirmations could eradicate the feeling of hopelessness that was getting more and more prevalent as she sat there, curled into herself.

Even after the tears stopped only five minutes later there was no sense of relief. Just emptiness. For a long time, she sat on the floor, her bare legs splayed out in front of her as she stare blankly at the wall in front of her. Trying to figure out what she was still doing here. Even if she managed to get free now, she had no idea how she would explain away her own crimes. As much as she hated him for everything that he had done, she was just as bad as he was now. And even though she knew that everything she was feeling was part of a well-orchestrated plan on his part, it didn't stop the guilt. The guilt she felt for being so selfish as to be more concerned over her own safety than the lives of innocent people, for not giving so much as a second thought to the men that she killed, and for simply being alive when nearly everyone else that she knew had been blown up. Except for Shawn. At least the Joker had spared him, even if it was to control her. The irony was that it wasn't even necessary at this point. She didn't want to see him hurt. Not in the least. But she rarely thought of him anymore. And when she did, there was little emotion there aside from a small twinge of sadness for the life that she had before. She didn't miss him, she missed what he represented.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, feeling herself sink into a pit of despair so deep she couldn't think of a single way out. A single way except for one. With a weak sigh, she finally dragged herself off of the floor, the back of her legs lined with impressions of the chilly tile across her clammy skin. Running a tired hand through her hair she leaned onto the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. It was hard to recognize herself. T

here were endless bags under her eyes from the many nights that she had trouble sleeping and her complexion was sallow. Though she had never been the least bit overweight, she had lost weight to the point where she was extremely thin due to the one meal a day she was usually given. Furrowing her brows she tore her eyes away from the mirror, not wanting to look at the defeated image staring back. Taunting her, daring her to do what she was considering.

With a determined frown, she opened the mirror cabinet, quietly searching for something, anything that would help. But the Joker had been thorough, hiding his knives every night and removing anything that could be used as a weapon. Scanning each inch of the shelf, she tried to think of something that he might not have. Surely he missed something. But as she reached the last shelf, she was left with only toothpaste, contact lens solution, and the hydrogen peroxide she used to clean her stiches every couple of days. She was sure one of those might do the trick in large doses. But in all of her searching, the thing she was worried about most wasn't dying. But living to incur the Joker's wrath. If she was going to do it, she had to make sure it would work.

Tightening her grip on the sink in frustration and pursing her lips, she gave a silent growl of frustration, yanking at the porcelain angrily before a shiny glint caught her eye. Glancing below the sink, she could see that one of two thin metal bars used to hold the sink up was loose due to a long, rusty screw threatening to fall out of the tiled walls at any second. Bending down on her haunches, she made quick work of twisting the long screw out of the crumbling tile which was much easier than she thought it might be…most of the wall just falling away around the piece of metal.

When she was finally able to pull it out, a brief feeling of excitement washed over her as she stood with her spoils before her mind quickly returned to the melancholy. Her eyes stay on the piece of metal for a long moment, trying to think of how she would do it all while trying to stop herself from imagining the excruciating pain it would take just to get the job done.

She twisted the screw in her fingers as her breathing shuddered, glancing over at her other arm lying against the porcelain, waiting. It would be so easy now to escape the captivity that was far too quickly becoming normal in her mind. She just had to force herself to move.

With a heavy breath, she finally raised her eyes to the mirror.

And screamed.

Behind her, in the mirror was one of the Joker's goons, glaring at her angrily through bright blue eyes under furrowed brows. His wavy light brown hair hanging lazily near his shoulders. She hadn't heard him come in and was unsure of how long he had been standing there, but there he stood. She spun around, swinging the screw in her hand towards his face with a small shriek.

As he grabbed her wrist easily with a grunt, squeezing tightly, something caused her to freeze. That scowl. Adorned on both sides by scars unmasked by the red makeup she was used to. Angry bunches of skin bulged out at staggered intervals from a shotty patch job that looked like it had been completed by a child. Her mouth dropped as she stare up at him. A strange mixture of fear and fascination playing upon her features. Even with the disturbing scars and terrifying scowl upon his face, she could tell that he had once been painfully attractive. A brooding type of handsome with clear eyes that seemed to look right through her. In another life he could have whatever and whoever he wanted. But then again, she supposed he still could.

She was pulled out of her musings by the sudden increased pressure on her wrist as he pushed her back against the sink as his penetrating gaze turned away from her face and to her hand, forcing her to acknowledge what she had been thinking about. Her eyes followed his to the nail that she was still clutching as every emotion that she had been experiencing before he showed up came rushing back.

She jerked her head back towards him and gave an instinctual shake of the head, starting to deny what they both knew she was about to do even though her attempts only caused her to look like a fish out of water. Finally she lowered her eyes away from him and broke down again into heavy sobs, pulling her wrist away from him with little resistance and covering her eyes.

He stare down at her silently as she cried trying hard to control his anger as his hands balled up to tight fists at his side. He had always been a light sleeper, and as quiet as she tried to be, he had woken the moment she slinked from the bed like she did every now and then. It wasn't until she had been in there for longer than he considered necessary for any function that he followed. And what he watched was enough to make him want to stab her again. As easy as he'd gone on her the last week and she still had the nerve to try and escape. The only thing he could consider doing at the moment was making up for all the pain he hadn't dished out now. He did miss the look of his hand print on her neck. But that would probably just exacerbate the situation. And it wouldn't be a whole lot of fun attacking her in this state. It never was. She would just take it.

Sucking his cheeks, he tilted his head and studied her heaving shoulders. Staying silent for a moment before giving an annoyed growl. He would save her punishment for later. Just another to tack on to list he was keeping in his head. But until then, leaving her in this state would just make things worse and his body was still pumping with furious adrenaline just dying to escape. For now, they both needed the same thing.

Arella felt like her chest was going to explode from the pressure of the second crying fit she had descended into within the last hour. He was furious, and it was probably only a matter of time before he got bored with watching her and dished out the punishment she knew was waiting. And as much as she wanted to force the tears to stop so that she could beg him to go easy on her, no amount of control that she tried to gain over her rapidly fluctuating emotions seemed to work. She hated looking weak in front of him.

A tight grip onto her chin forced her head upwards with a jerk, forcing a gasp from her mouth as wet eyes looked up at the Joker's permanent scowl in fear.

His face leaned closer to hers so that they were only inches apart. "Shut. Up." He growled with barely contained anger, his nails practically digging into her face.

She immediately chocked back the next sob, surprising herself by how quickly she managed to quiet the loud cries to small, muffled hiccups when she had just spent the last few minutes trying to control it on her own. But staring at the Joker now, it was the fear that gave her the strength she needed. Though his voice was low, the pure murder in his eyes made it just as if he had screamed at her.

The Joker's hand migrated from her chin to the back of her neck, squeezing again and yanking her away from the sink.

"Get. Dressed." He said in the same low voice, pushing her towards the door and releasing her.

She stumbled slightly before pausing in the doorway, turning around to look at his shoulders heaving heavily with each shuddering breath. She took a moment to swallow the next few hiccups before opening her mouth.

"Joker, I-"

"NOW." He growled at her, not turning around as his hands balled into fists again.

She jumped, spinning on her heels and scurrying off to change.

Thirty minutes later, Arella was sitting in the passenger's seat of the van as the Joker drove silently beside her fully dressed and made up again. He hadn't bothered to speak or even look at her since he ordered her to change. And she didn't bother asking him what was going on. Her mind was too busy circling around her breakdown in the bathroom earlier, replaying every moment in her head. Now that she had time to think, a feeling of shame began to wash over her. A shame that was only matched by the anger she felt. She was angry that she had let herself get to a point where killing herself seemed like it was the only option even after she had vowed to never go there again.

If anybody died it should be him. He deserved it. And one day, when she got up the strength and courage, she would kill him. Before he had a chance to kill her. Until then, she kept her eyes trained out of the window, unable to bring herself to face him. He hadn't tied a blind fold over her face which she thought was strange, but there was no point in reminding him. She couldn't figure out where they were if she tried. Everything was pitch black.

It was another fifteen minutes before the van finally came to a stop near Gotham's docks, parked in a shady alley between two buildings and partially hidden by a large dumpster. She looked around at the surroundings uncertainly before casting a sideways glance at the Joker as he climbed out of the car without a word.

Hesitating, she watched him walk around the car, waiting for him to give her some signal, but he simply began walking away from the van. Pursing her lips, she quickly unbuckled her seat belt and hopped out as well, jogging after him and slowing to fall in step only a few feet behind him, waiting for him to acknowledge her. She wished he would just yell at or strangle her and get it over with. But of course he wouldn't make it that easy.

For a long time, they walked, her following him like a lost puppy and him pretending like she wasn't there. It was surprisingly relaxing, even as they ventured into the narrows. The few people that were outside scurried away at the sight of his purple jacket barely offering her a second glance in their attempts to be invisible. Some of the bolder men remained leaned against buildings as they passed, waiting for him to pass before looking at her oddly. The skinny, wide eyed girl following the Joker in He owned these streets. Practically the city. And though it was impressive to watch, she was quickly starting to realize that even if she ever did escape, everyone in the city would be looking for her. Including people that she would rather not have know she existed. With a shiver, she jogged closer to him, keeping her eyes on the ground as they continued.

Finally, the two of them turned into the open stairway of a heavily dilapidated building. Ahead of her, the Joker's long legs took two steps at a time, forcing her to jog in order to keep up with him. As they climbed the first few levels, Arella could feel dread creeping in her stomach. She had been perfectly content with his silence for the last hour or so, but now she was dying for him to say something, if only to gauge how angry he really was. But she wasn't going to initiate any conversation. On the extremely probable chance that he was still fuming, she didn't want to do anything to set him off. Pursing her lips, she continued up the steps silently until they finally reached the fourth floor, stopping in front of a door.

As he raised his hand to knock on the door, Arella took a deep breath. Something told her that incurring his wrath now would be better than facing whatever was behind that door.

"I'm sorry." She finally said, her voice wavering much to her chagrin.

The Joker didn't turn around, only stiffened as he continued to stare at the door.

"I wouldn't have done it. I just…wanted to know that I could." She muttered, fingering the edge of her jacket nervously. It was a lie, but she was hoping he wouldn't see through it, not with his back to her.

He turned his head only slightly to look at her over his shoulder, giving a dangerous smile. "Don't worry, Ella. Your punishment comes later."

She tilted her head slightly confused before snapping her mouth shut again as he pulled a long knife out of his pocket. Reaching a gloved hand up and giving a musical knock on the door as he began to hum to himself happily.

She let out a soft groan as her eyes shut momentarily. He was in full Joker mode and that could only mean that things were about to get bloody.

Hey Guys! I tried to make sure I got it back out in a month as promised so I hope you like it. I mean...I know what's going to happen, but I still get a little tense when I go back and read chapters and can't wait to read the next part so I know how absolutely horrible cliffhangers are when you have to wait forever for the next part and yet...oh so fun.

Anyway, thanks for staying with me and don't forget to review! Thanks to those that have reviewed so far. They always make me smile even if I don't manage to get back to you right away. Can you guys believe this has been going on for almost half a year already? And we're only like halfway through...I think. Halfway-ish. If only I gave this much attention to my research papers.

What's your favorite part so far? Drop me a line and let me know! Once again, you guys rock.