CHAPTER FOUR

"Okay…so what do we know already?" Jezzie's blood lacking fingers drummed weakly against the arms of the chair, and her teeth chewed the dried skin on her bottom lip thoughtfully between words.

"We know… we know he keeps his goons in the dark. He doesn't specifically tell them what he's doing, and seems to just, leave it up to them to figure out. The one guy has clearly been around for awhile, long enough to understand the Joker's MO, while the other seems new and…well, I guess, untrained would be the best word for it?" She nodded, and in her mind Ally was nodding right along with her.

"Ya, it's almost like a…survival of the fittest sorta thing, working for him. Figure it out as you go along, or die." She turned back to Ally thoughtfully.

"Even what he did with you…with everyone…it's like…taunting. Like a, cat chasing a mouse. He…it's like, he wants to see, how we'll respond to everything…" Had her ankles not been bound, her right foot would have been tapping with contemplation.

"…or-or maybe he's, trying to harden us? To toughen everyone up? Maybe he's on some sort of crazy, misguided quest to make everyone a 'stronger' person… ev- even when he pitted the two ferries against each other, or-or when he made the city choose between that Reese dude and the hospital…it's like he's…trying to convince everyone that- that they're all capable of being monsters."

Like him.

It was all making sense. Everything he'd ever done…it all made sense. The mob banks, Batman, Rachel Dawes, Harvey Dent…

A random, disturbing realization sunk in as she was recounting the events of that fateful year.

Harvey Dent…oh my GOD… how could I not have realized… he was literally a patient at the hospital the Joker had blown up…the only real hope Gotham had left, of course the Joker had to-…Batman took the blame, but Harvey must have-

Jezzie jerked her head, trying to shake the shock of the revelation from her mind. She had to focus on the present. Especially as, if she were being honest with herself, she was more irritated about the fact that she hadn't figured it out sooner rather than disturbed by the fact that the Joker had corrupted Harvey Dent.

"Okay, so…" she scoffed out a confused laugh, "why me? What does he want… from me? To break me? Does he wanna…turn me into him?" A large piece of skin was ripped off her lip, and she pulled the bleeding wound into her mouth, sucking pensively before giving a short, exasperated exhale.

"Ya…ya that-that must be it. He wants people to see that anyone, good or bad, is capable of terrible things. He needs people to understand that we're all…just…like…him."

A strange thought occurred to her.

He's…lonely. In his own fucked up, twisted way, he feels isolated, and needs to convince people that his way of thinking is the right way of thinking. That he's not…crazy.

Despite the unlikelihood of the Joker feeling lonely, the analysis just felt right. Typically, when psychoanalyzing someone, it was unwise to settle on a diagnosis without speaking with the person on multiple occasions in a sterile, controlled environment. It was, in fact, downright outrageous and completely unprofessional to do such a thing. This though…this conclusion just…for her, it just clicked everything into place.

So where did that leave her?

Still kidnapped but feeling a great deal more confident than she had before. She knew now what he wanted, and she had to play into that. Her desperation to regain control of her situation was most certainly NOT clouding her judgement.

She attempted to roll her shoulders, as well as wiggle her fingers and toes, intent on returning some sort of circulation to her limbs. Shifting her hips, she kept her eyes trained on the door, resolutely ignoring how disturbed she should have been at how numb she truly was.

The likelihood of someone coming through the door anytime soon was slim, but she would be prepared for them when they did. When that door opened, she would not be greeting whoever walked through it with a hanging head, no matter how weak she felt.

To her surprise, she heard the door lock turning what could only have been ten minutes later. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she cut her gaze around the room briefly, though she knew it like the back of her hand already.

Were they…watching her? Had they seen the shift in her attitude?

Or…worse…had they heard her talking to Ally?

Concern was immediately replaced with chagrin as her eyes met those of the racist goon. Normally, her nervous system would be freaking out by now, sending little alarm bells off in her head; however, the lack of needing to avoid the confrontation allowed her to contemplate another avenue she could take.

Perhaps…perhaps she could use this to her advantage. Most people who openly expressed such ignorant, vicious forms of bigotry…well, in her experience, if dynamite were brains, most bigots wouldn't even be able to blow their noses.

And it did seem like he was rather new to the job…

Before he could get an insult in, she spoke up.

"All by yourself today, huh?"

Immediately, a look of repugnance flitted over his face, as if by simply hearing her speak would result in his contraction of some horrible infection. As if anything he could contract from her would be worse than whatever ailment fueled his decision to get Norse rune symbols tattooed on his face.

"Don't talk to me…" The expletive racial slur he punctuated the sentence with was unfortunately one Jezzie was very familiar with, and although in the past it would have likely triggered a jolt of scared apprehension in her gut, this time, for whatever reason, the word hardly phased her. With a small smirk, she tried again.

"I thought I was a half breed? Either way, I can promise you, I didn't ask for this. Believe me, if I could scrub the colour off my skin I would." The words should have felt like acid coming out of her mouth, but…she felt oddly…nothing.

The smile the man gave her however, did manage to evoke a slight chill that erupted in goosebumps across her skin.

"I can help you with that."

"I'm sure you could." The first word was spoken in a chuckle, and she kept her voice airy and unaffected. Despite the chills, she felt a complete and total lack of trepidation, though what her captor was implying was something she'd always innately feared. Growing up, she'd heard terrifying tales of what could happen to people who don't have white skin…one of her Nigerian cousins being an unfortunate example. Just a small-town kid who wanted more out of life, and when he left home to get it…encountered the wrong people. They 'helped' him by scrubbing his body with bleach.

Despite having been deeply traumatized by that story, at that moment, though there was a strange feeling stirring in her veins, it could not be described as fear. It couldn't even be described as anxiety. Whatever it was, allowed Jezzie to remain calm, and even provided enough of a buzz that made her outright devious.

"I don't think your boss would like that very much though. Speaking of which, where is our delightful host?"

Yes, that's right Jezzie…redirect him.

Unfortunately, the piece of shit had a one-track mind.

"He's off gettin' the tree ready…we gonna have a lynchin' party!" His eyes glittered with malice, and his grin showed off more than one missing tooth. The ones that remained didn't seem in very good shape. It was hard not to roll her eyes.

Typical inbred, meth smoking, racist fuck.

Before she could formulate a response, he gripped her head, yanking it back so hard she felt and heard a painful snap as she was whiplashed. His order to "open up" proved unnecessary, as her mouth was already opened wide in a painful gasp.

Then she was drowning. He'd taken the lid off the hamster bottle and was just dumping it down her throat, a cascade of water falling down her neck and shoulders.

When the bottle was empty, he released her, coughing and spluttering, trying to avoid worsening the injury in her neck. She hauled in a breath and called out to him before he could leave,

"Nice ink." Though it was spoken very hoarsely, he still heard her, and paused his exit.

Holding her neck awkwardly to stretch out the pain, Jezzie gestured with her eyes to his forearm, where she had recognized another symbol commonly used in his circle of peers.

"American Front…you got taste. Bob Heick knew what the fuck was up."

"How does a ni-"

"I've followed his work for a long time." Jezzie cut in, slightly agitated by the man's insistent stupidity. She probably knew more about the symbols on his body than he did, the fucking idiot. Just another dumb fuck joining a cause they had no fucking clue about.

"The guy actually had some incredibly forward thinking ideas. People like me shouldn't exist…I don't know what the fuck my parents were thinking…a black man and an Asian woman?" She spit on the ground for effect, feeling neither happy nor guilty for the words she spoke.

However, she did feel that strange, buzzing sensation increase when she saw the small smirk tugging at the man's lips.

"Well, at least you know your place, half breed. Far too many of your kind don't."

It was a small victory, but she'd take it. Before she could do an internal fist pump however, the doorway was once more filled with a large, purple figure. The buzzing in her veins increased again, as did her heartrate, and it was only when she felt the tiny butterflies in her stomach begin that Jezzie realized what it was she was feeling.

Excitement. Like she drank a particularly good cup of coffee. Enough to energize, but not enough to be considered an adrenaline rush; and definitely enough to make her giddy.

"Ah, there's our gracious host! I was wondering when you'd come to see me again." She gave him an exaggerated pout.

"I thought you liked playing with me?"

The Joker's face contorted in mock sympathy.

"Ohh baby doll, I'm sorry…but you know…work before play." He cut his eyes meaningfully to the henchman, and Jezzie shuddered at the menace behind his gaze.

The goon stiffened.

"Boss…I wasn't doing nothing, I just gave her water…"

"Ahhhh-tatatata you know the rules."

BANG.

Warm, wet blood splattered across Jezzie's face, which thankfully did not feature a gaping mouth. Her feelings were somewhat…mixed. She wasn't sure which bothered her more…the gore on her face, or the fact that she was genuinely unbothered by the murder that just took place in front of her.

He was a piece of shit. That's the only reason you don't care.

No, you're not happy about it either, you're just…hyped up right now…

She lowered her face to her shoulder, ignoring the flaring pain of the whiplash as she attempted to clean her face.

"Ugh…hopefully racism isn't contagious." She wasn't exactly sure where the joke came from, but the Joker's laughter made her happy she said it, and she found herself mirroring his crazy smile.

While he laughed, the other goon who'd watered and fed her before entered the room, not even sparing her a glance as he dragged out his fallen comrade. He didn't seem overly phased either.

See? It's normal to not care about a piece of shit when they die.

The Joker was still giggling when the henchman came back with a rickety chair matching hers. Once alone, the Joker sat down, right across from her, and leaned over, his elbows on his knees.

"Hiiiii."

Jezzie almost laughed.

Almost.

"Uh…" she gave an uncomfortably toothy smile that didn't reach her eyes, "hi?"

He grinned, and scooted the chair forward slightly, leaning even closer, posed like he was about to tell her a secret.

"Soooo…whatcha wanna talk about?"

Jezzie's mind was whirring. He'd clearly been listening when the goon was in the room with her, but there was now way to know whether or not he was privy to what she'd been discussing with her classmate's body just before.

And…why kill the henchman? To scare her? To scare his other workers? Both?

Realizing she'd been silent a fraction of a second too long, Jezzie quickly quipped,

"It must be tricky, keeping a full crew like that." Her tone was coy, trying to appear casual with an air of amusement.

Successfully amused, her audience raised an eyebrow.

"Are you uh…looking for work?"

Jezzie cocked her head, as if pondering the suggestion.

"Do you offer benefits?"

He cackled.

"Ohhh…we have a funny one, don't we? A real uh, wisecracker."

Jezzie smirked, and spit on the floor again before speaking.

"Well, as amazing as the opportunity sounds, unless you offer decent dental I'm gonna have to utilize my talents elsewhere."

"Mhmm…yes you uh, certainly are…talented, aren't'chu?" His tongue flickered out over his bottom lip, and he reached forward, yanking her chair closer, so their knees were touching.

"Tell me…Jezziebelle-uh…why…do you do…what you do-uh?"

Slightly taken aback by the question, Jezzie wasn't quite sure what he meant.

"I-…I'm sorry?" What the hell is he talking about? Like, what I do for school?

His pitch lowered into a forbidding tone, and he repeated the question, clearly not inclined to ask a third time. Still unsure, but deciding to take the chance, Jezzie answered truthfully,

"I…I just…I want to understand." She started, not wanting to lie, but also nervous about potentially telling him too much. The man had an uncanny ability to read people, possibly better than even herself, and she certainly was not keen to allow any of his questions to trick her into revealing anything he could use against her.

Thankfully, she was quite practiced in the art of telling people what they want to hear, whilst still omitting the parts she didn't want them to. Had she so desired, politics would have been a very lucrative career path for Jezebelle Fox.

When he tapped her knee warningly to continue, she took a deep breath, fixing him with a look of slight hunger, as if her were a particularly decadent piece of chocolate.

"I want to understand…why?" She spoke slowly, adopting a silky, borderline dreamy tone to her voice.

"Why do people like you… do what you do? What…happened, that made you tick? Was it trauma? Genetics? A mixture of both? Why do some people develop empathy, and others turn apathetic? How is it possible to dehumanize innocent people to such a severe degree?"

Although she started out dramatic, her demeanor soon turned genuine, and she found herself actually wanting to tell him. She wanted to feel…understood. Seen. To a certain extent, anyway.

"You…you're like, the holy grail for the psychiatric community. Everyone knows you, but nobody understands you…that's why, that day, I just…I had to look at you. I had to see you, the man everyone is so terrified of, yet so fascinated with…" She hoped the Joker wasn't immune to flattery; and she really hoped he saw her admiration of him as something that could be manipulated.

It's like chess. Always think five moves ahead.

Little did she know…though he'd never mastered the game, her opponent was very proficient at thinking ahead; and unfortunately for her, he could think way past five moves.

"I guess I figured…even if I never got a chance to study you…I could study others like you. Maybe if I could understand them, I could…I dunno…become the first person to figure you out. Maybe even one day get to meet you." She looked around the room, a wry smile on her lips.

"Careful what you wish for, huh?"

This time, her joke didn't land. The look in Joker's eyes reminded her of her father…like he was seeing right through her.

And oh boy. See right through her he did.

"Soo…it wouldn't happen to have anything to do with uh, Matthew then, hmmm?"

Jezzie's eyes widened, and her blood ran cold. The weird, apathetic state she'd entered quickly ended as an overwhelming flood of emotions rushed to the surface, heating her face and causing her heart to pump so viciously, she could hear it in her ears.

FUCK?! How did I not see this coming? How could I have POSSIBLY believed he didn't know?

Though she only had herself to blame for her lapse in judgement, Jezzie fiercely directed her anger towards the Joker, finding herself completely incapable of reigning it in.

"Don't talk about him." Her voice was low, but incredibly shaky.

The Joker's eyes glittered with sadistic malice, and his mouth split into a wide smile.

"Yeah…I think he's the one you really wanna know more about, hm? How could he do those terrible things-?"

"Stop. Just fucking stop." She cut him off with a snarl, her vision tunnelling on the white-faced man in front of her.

"Maybe it had uh, something to do with thee, accident, hmmm? You- you were knocked out but, your brother…" the Joker shuddered, emitting a low, raspy groan for dramatic effect.

"…he saw everything…he saw your mother's body…well, what was left of it anyway..."

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Even the roaring in her ears couldn't drown out his words, her bleeding rope burns also going unnoticed as she writhed in fury.

"You know…maybe if he hadn't seen his mommy, all mutilated like that… maybe if you hadn't killed her… you might all still be one. Big. Happy. Family." He growled the last word, squeezing both her knees, before standing up and circling around her, dropping down so his lips were against her ear.

"I'm thinking, that answer you've been looking for is uh, right in fron-tof you. You just don't. Wanna. See i-t." The last four words were punctuated with taps down her shoulder, and he unfurled himself, straightening the lapels of his jacket, and cracking his neck.

"I'll uh…leave you to your thoughts."

She didn't even see him leave, nor did she see them remove Ally's body. She didn't even hear the door close. All she could hear was her own screaming. Angry, tormented shrieks that ruptured her already damaged vocal cords, though the coppery taste of blood also went unnoticed.

He was right. It was all her fault. Everything was her fault. She killed her mother, and the trauma of seeing her mangled body sent her brother off the deep end.

Had she been of sounder mind, perhaps she could have remembered that not everyone who witnesses such trauma becomes so deranged. Not everyone who sees their mother's dismembered corpse starts cutting up random women who 'look like mommy.'

But, at that moment, Jezzie's mind was far from sound. Feelings and memories she'd long repressed were making their way back to the surface, and for some reason she couldn't keep them back.

Matty told no one what she did…when they talked to the cops, he recounted the events first, insisting there had been a wasp in the car that startled their mother. As he spoke, he met Jezzie's eyes, who widely looked at him from her father's protective hold. Without any evidence to the contrary, there was no reason for anyone to ever suspect what Matty said wasn't the truth.

The beetle was never mentioned, even between the two of them. They spoke neither of it, nor of the accident, and when the late nights started… when Matty was sneaking around, not returning home until the wee hours of the morning, sometimes with blood on his clothes…Jezzie too, told no one. The routine developed organically, the agreement to always protect each other left unspoken; he would come home late, and she would help him clean up. And, like the beetle, they never spoke of it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her head hung low.

The wrong person died. It should have been her that was killed in the crash. Her mother would have known how to keep the family sane and together…

In that moment, Jezzie truly wanted to die. She was a terrible person. So many were dead, so many lives ruined… because of her. And worst of all? She couldn't even feel bad. As hard as she tried, she literally could not summon the immense guilt she'd been carrying around her entire life. She knew she should feel it, she just…couldn't. It was right there, but…it was like she couldn't access it. The only emotions she seemed capable of feeling were excitement and anger.

She didn't just want to die… she deserved to die. What kind of person just stopped feeling normal emotion?

That was the point that Jezzie slipped into a weird, almost catatonic like state. Feeling things was just too complicated. Life was too hard. She wasn't cut out for this.

"Just end it." At this point, she wasn't sure if there were cameras, but she hoarsely spoke to the room nevertheless, turning her face around to direct her words to any possible spot a camera could be hidden.

"Just fucking kill me. I'm done."

Nobody came. Not until what felt like at least a day later, when the same goon returned to pour some water and more gruel down her tender throat. When she again, numbly requested death, he scoffed, but otherwise didn't engage.

It continued. For about five feedings, it continued that way. One day when she looked down, and saw a sea of red, she realized her period had come. She hadn't even noticed. Had her feet not been tied, they would have slipped around with all the waste that had accumulated beneath the chair. God knows how much of it had made its way into her wounds.

Whatever. Let fucking sepsis take her. A shitty ending for a shitty person.

Seemed fitting enough.

One day, the Joker came back, waving around a knife.

Finally.

But, he didn't kill her. He just cut her.

While it would have been an effective torture method when he first took her, the poor state of her body meant she was virtually numb to whatever happened to it. Though she bled, the pain she felt registered as no more than a bee sting.

After slicing a particularly deep gouge right under her eye, he sighed, and roughly patted her cheek.

"Well, as impressed as I am with your, improved pain tolerance-uh," he clicked his tongue.

"I'm afraid we're gonna have to go with someone else for thee uh, position." He began walking away, chuckling at his reference to their earlier jesting. Jezzie couldn't even be bothered to respond.

"Too bad…I expected more but ah…you're just, not enough fun-uh." The door slammed shut, the sound of the lock sliding into place paralleling the penetration of his words into Jezzie's hazey brain.

You're just, not enough fun.

Not enough fun.

Not.Fun.

That familiar hot feeling immediately started twisting in her gut again, and her face screwed up in a very ugly expression.

Pure, unadulterated hatred was boiling within her, snowballing back into that icy hot fury that drove every other thought aside from revenge from her mind.

This was all just…a game to him. Her life, her agony, her trauma…he found it all funny. He really was just fucking playing with her...like a child with a toy. And now that his toy was broken, he was bored?

Her eyes flashed at the door, and she bared her teeth. She was not his toy. And she was not fucking broken.

"Hey…HEY! CLOWN BOY!"

He wanted some entertainment? She'd show him some fucking entertainment. Her damaged voice sounded uncannily close to the Batman's, but she refused to acknowledge how much that would undermine her ire.

"Is that what this is? You're just some pathetic, impotent honky who can't get his rocks off without violence?" She laughed.

Maniacally. Like an unhinged chain smoker.

"That's your problem, isn't it? Your tiny little cracker cock doesn't work anymore! You gotta watch me piss, shit and bleed all over myself while your little goons suck you off!" She was still cackling through her entire tirade, now really having to fight to push the sound out.

"That's-that's why you gotta kill them all eventually! You don't want them telling everyone you're just a pencil dicked pervert who can't get it up!" It was as if another person had taken over her body. She wasn't even thinking of the words coming out of her mouth, they were just coming.

Kind like how Batman 'cums' in his ass.

OH WAIT! That's a good one!

"Do you make them dress up as Batman for you? You've always had a massive hard on for him, it wouldn't surprise me if you made all your little goons dress up like him so they can suc-"

At the mention of Batman, another wild, random epiphany managed to briefly pop its head through her haze of fury, but before she could mull it over, the door lock clicked again. Widening her eyes, and putting on a feral smile, Jezzie prepared herself, but once again, the deranged lunatic managed to shock her.

A very alive Mrs. Fields was pushed into the room, albeit looking very worse for wear. Her grey hair, normally in a severe bun, was in a tangled nest around her head, and her malnourishment was painfully obvious on her naturally very slight frame.

But, from what Jezzie could see, no fatal wounds. Not like Alecia.

Though the thought should have brought her some form of relief, for Jezzie, the fact was…unaffecting. All she felt was that same, intense, churning anger.

The Joker followed her professor into the room, his eyes glittering with something that despite her wrath, was able to stir a little bit of anticipation in her.

"See? I knew you were fun."

Jezzie intently watched him flick open his knife, and place it in her professor's hand, before saying something that once again, completely blind sided her.

"Cut her loose."

Both her and her professor froze.

…What?

With a not so gentle push forward, Mrs. Fields stumbled towards Jezzie, and not wishing to encourage further manhandling, she cut through Jezzie's ropes, trembling hands causing her to nick the flesh beneath. Though she was watching the Joker instead of Mrs. Fields' work, her professor's gasp drew her attention downward, and Jezzie cringed.

Oh fuck.

The skin under her bindings had begun to fuse to the rope, attempting to heal but not having the space to do so. Pulling away the rope also pulled the flesh from her wrists and ankles, exposing the bleeding, clearly infected wounds beneath.

Finally freed from bondage, and with Mrs. Fields' assistance, Jezzie attempted to stand. Unfortunately, her professor had barely enough strength to hold herself up, let alone support Jezzie's unused limbs. Jezzie's legs buckled, and she found herself on the floor, her arms having given out when she attempted to catch herself on the fall. A small tingling started as the blood began flowing around properly again.

Within a minute, her entire body felt like it was being stabbed by knife sized needles. It hurt, but she was more excited by the pain than bothered. The feeling meant everything still worked.

Joker, who'd been cackling madly since she fell, wiped a fake tear from his eye.

"You uh, really should exercise more doll. Sitting is the new smoking don'tcha know?"

He released more hysterical laughter at his own morbid joke, as Mrs. Fields managed to help Jezzie on her hands and knees. She was shaky but remained upright.

It took almost five minutes for her to finally reach her feet, the chair that had helped put her in this condition now being the only thing holding her up, as her hands clutched the back in a death grip. Mrs. Fields kept both her hands on Jezzie's shoulders, an action that proved more effective as emotional support than anything else.

The Joker was humming, his eyes flicking between both of them, clearly amused by the show. When his gaze landed on Mrs. Fields, the slight shift in his demeanor sent a thrilling shock travelled through Jezzie, the feeling akin to what she felt when she was accidentally zapped by an uncovered light switch as a child. It was like a weak electric current travelled through her, the Joker's energy literally shifting the atmosphere in the room.

Speaking directly to Mrs. Fields, the Joker slowly grinned, and Jezzie swore she could see his pupils dilate.

"Kill her."

Mrs. Fields trembled.

"Wh-…what?"

He cleared his throat, and repeated himself, annunciating as if speaking to a rather dim child.

"Kill…her…" He pointed at Jezzie without looking at her, "and you," his finger swivelled to face Mrs. Fields, "can go home."

The older woman was married, with three children, and five grand children. She kept photos of her family by her desk, ever so proud to show them off to anyone that came close enough to see.

That was pretty good incentive to want to go home.

Shuffling so the chair sat between them, Jezzie tried to back away. Though she was far from scared of her old professor, her body was also far from any being in any sort of shape capable of defending herself. She attempted a stern tone, though her voice came out as nothing more than a raspy whisper,

"Don't listen to him Mrs. Fields…he's lying to you."

"Oh no no no no no…I'm a uh, man of my word doll." He nodded encouragingly at Mrs. Fields, while Jezzie kept her penetrative gaze on him.

"Kill her…and I'll send you home. To your family."

Before Jezzie could even try to point out that he hadn't guaranteed to send her back alive, Mrs. Fields lunged at her.

"I'm sorry!" She cried the words, raising the knife high above her head. Unwilling to see what she was about to do, she kept her eyes shut, missing her intended victim by almost a foot on her first swipe as she stumbled over the chair.

Jezzie didn't even have to think. Adrenaline fueled strength allowed her to raise the chair and smash it, as hard as she could, into her professor's head. Though she did lose her balance with the weight of the chair, thankfully, Mrs. Field's energy was not much more than her own, and the older woman fell like a bag of rocks, Jezzie's fall almost crushing the woman.

Scrambling on her noodle-like limbs, Jezzie managed to get on top of her opponent, a piece of sharp wood clutched tightly in her hands.

She brought the wood down, repeatedly, her own hands becoming bloody and slippery from the splinters, mixing with the blood from what used to be her professor's face.

By the time Jezzie's brain caught up with her hands, she realized she was mashing the wood into a mess of flesh and bone, with no discernible features eto suggest it was once face. Unclenching her hands from around the now very red and gore caked chair leg, she fell back onto her ass, eyes glued to her handiwork.

"I want to go home now." Her voice, now barely even a whisper, wavered from the effort it took to speak. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Jezzie's body was shaking from what it'd just been forced to do, her poor, atrophied muscles having only functioned because of her body's adrenals.

"I'm uh…sure you do." Jezzie kept her eyes locked on Mrs. Field's body, so she missed the ravenous expression on her tormentor's face.

"You said whoever killed the other one could go home. I killed her; I get to go home." She spoke with such finality, as if she were a parent addressing a child. Her eyes never left Mrs. Fields'.

"I uh…told her she could go home if she killed you. I…never made that deal with you-uh."

"I would like to go home."

He clicked his tongue with a sympathetic air.

"Unfortunately, that ah…wasn't part of the deal. Maybe, if you'd, arranged your terms before killing her…" He shrugged, as if he had no choice in the matter, before turning around, saying over his shoulder,

"We're gonna be…a little busy for the next couple of weeks, so uh…don't wait up."

That broke her stare. Turning her face to glare at him, Jezzie clarified,

"A…a few weeks? You're gonna leave me here for a few weeks? What about food, and water?"

The Joker paused to cut a meaningful glance at her teacher's now still body, and then back to Jezzie with a raised brow.

"I'm uh…sure you'll figure it out."