In the Mind of Madness

For what felt like the hundredth time, Kenna mustered up all her waning strength and pulled on her handcuffs. She grunted with the effort, but quickly gave up. Her plan to try and break the rusty pipe was turning out to be useless, and now she was hot and sweaty along with irritated and sitting in smelly water.

She was getting tired, the headache she had and her struggling combining to make her lean her head against the pipe and shut her eyes. Kenna sighed. She had really thought Darla was her friend, but she wouldn’t be sad. She didn’t allow all the emotions fighting inside her to become despair, she turned it all to anger and hate. Kenna was determined that whenever The Joker came she would kick the shit out of him. She was even trying to remember anything she’d collected over the years by way of fighting knowledge.

Kenna was beginning to wonder if anyone would come looking for her. Surely someone would see the security tapes of The Joker escaping, and hopefully track him down. Or maybe Becky would tell Dr. King about their deal. No, why would she do that? Kenna pursed her lips, knowing that nobody would find her. But she would get away.

Dozing here and there, Kenna didn’t notice it when someone came down into the basement. She was dreaming about running down a dark alleyway, not knowing where she was going or why, but sure that she had to get there as fast as possible. When she opened her eyes from her brief nap her heart was hammering, and she saw someone sitting about seven feet away from her.

“YOU!” she howled, using the burst of adrenaline from her anger to push herself into a standing position, her hands still chained to the pipe.

The Joker stared at her, obviously amused. He had never seen her this out of control. At least physically. Kenna leaned toward him with all her weight, ignoring the pain in her wrists. She wanted to hit him, kick him, hell she’d bite him if she could.

“Good to see you, too, doll.” said The Joker, getting up and standing just out of the reach of her foot.

Kenna couldn’t come up with any coherent sentences, just lots of curse words and death threats. The Joker was chuckling at her as she stopped to catch her breath, panting and sweating. Then Kenna used the pipe to hold herself up, tired and sore.

“Let me out of these damn cuffs.” she hissed.

The Joker took a small step closer, giving her a faux-worried look. Her predicament was obviously bringing him endless entertainment. “You did just say you were going to kill me. I don’t know how inclined I am to let you go.”

Kenna gave him a scathing look as she panted. “I am a one-hundred-and-twenty-two pound woman. If I give you any trouble, no doubt you can defend yourself.”

Pulling out a small key, The Joker moved slowly towards Kenna. She scowled as he pressed his body right up against hers, reaching around her to unlock her hands, when he could have done it from behind her just as easily. It was the closest she had ever been to him whilst not sitting, and she was reminded forcefully of her dream about the tiny room.

When she was free she hauled her hand back to punch him, and he grabbed her wrist to stop her fist from colliding with his jaw. Kenna tried jerking her fist back to get in another punch, but The Joker held firmly to it so she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to attempt punching with her left hand, knowing it would be weak and likely have poor aim.

“See. No reason to be afraid.” Kenna hissed, seething.

The Joker released her and twirled the handcuffs on his finger. “Nobody said I was afraid, darlin’.”

“So…now what? Are you going to kill me?”

“Do you honestly believe that if I wanted you dead you would be here right now?” The Joker paused thoughtfully before continuing. “Well, I don’t want you dead currently. Who knows how I’ll feel in a day? Possibly an hour?”

Kenna swallowed hard, and The Joker smirked before turning and heading back for the basement door. After a moment of bewildered staring Kenna ran after him, finding herself on the first floor of an old, dingy house. The Joker didn’t seem to notice her presence, fiddling with something that Kenna surmised was a bomb and sitting at a table that might have once been someone’s kitchen table.

A family had probably eaten dinner there in the past, and now The Joker was using it to build deadly weapons.

“You can’t keep me here.” Kenna approached him and crossed her arms.

The Joker looked up at her like she was stupid. “Uh, yes, I can.”

“But why?!”

Abruptly The Joker straightened up and grabbed her by the hair, holding a knife to her throat. Kenna wouldn’t betray her fear, making herself stare right into his cold brown eyes with a fierce expression. The Joker let go of her and slapped her lightly on the cheek.

“That’s why, toots.”

Kenna growled in frustration, watching him as he went back to work. “You make no sense whatsoever…I could just escape.”

The Joker watched her with bored eyes as she went to the back door, opening it to see a thug wearing a clown mask pointing a gun in her face. She cursed and shut the door, hearing The Joker’s chuckle behind her. Beginning to feel a little frantic, Kenna tried the front door. Same scenario. She was really trapped. The Joker whistled at her like she was a dog, slapping his leg at her. She scowled and sat down on the dusty sofa, as far away from The Joker as possible.

“Is anything ever that simple, toots?”

Kenna refused to acknowledge his tormenting, focusing her stare on the boarded up windows. This had to be a nightmare.