Protect Me From What I Want

I woke up feeling extremely stiff and cold. I could tell today wasn’t going to be a good day. The pain from the recent bruises and contusions had begun to take effect. I rolled over on my back completely forgetting all about the severe burn to the lower back. I hissed as I arched my back and clenched my teeth.

“What seems to be the problem?” I heard The Joker ask. I jolted up, not even realising he was in the same room as me. He was standing at the door of the ensuite, with his hair slicked back slightly. He did this when he had just plastered a new coat of paint on his face. Some of the paint still managed to reach the roots of his hair, however. His attire looked extremely crisp and fresh today and his appearance in general looked a lot more joyful and smug, in contrast to how he’s been acting the past couple of days. I didn’t know whether this was a good or bad thing, but nevertheless I was still glad that he was back to himself now.

I rested against the headboard and tried to figure out an answer to the question. I didn’t want to admit that it was because of the injury he had caused, just so that he couldn’t gain the satisfaction out of the sick pleasure. I decided to divert away from the question. “You look nice today,” was the first thing that came to mind. It was true; as crazy as it sounds, he actually looked quite charming for a clown dressed in a purple suit. I suddenly realised, seldom do I ever give him compliments. It sent a strange wave of good morality through me when I did.

“Why, thank you,” he said oozing with utter arrogance as he fixed the lapels of his coat. “I do try.” Sure you do, I thought to myself cynically. I dare say it out loud. Although, I think I remember times where I’ve said worse, even if none spring to mind straight away. “Maybe you should try a little harder, toots,” he suggested without hesitation. I couldn’t suppress the loud gasp, even if I tried. Who did he think he was? I give him a nice compliment and he shoots back with a hurtful insult. Maybe if he stopped damaging my body, I’d be a little more attractive. “It’s not that I don’t love you for the way you are,” he justified as he tucked a stray hair behind my ear, trying to butter me up. And with that one sentence, I completely melted as I allowed a bashful smile to appear on my lips. “It’s just that a nice make-over would do you good. Do you want one?” He asked sounding a little too eager.

“What kind of makeover?” I asked abruptly. I had no intentions of dressing up as a clown anytime soon, so if that’s what he was implying he can forget about it.

“A nice one,” he replied.

“I bet you don’t have a clue when it comes down to doing girls make-up.”

“Don’t prejudge me, Harley. Now come on, at least let me try.” He wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both of my hands and pulled me over to the vanity set. I didn’t know whether to find this amusing or to be nervous. Everything The Joker did seem to surprise me, but this was just strange. He began pulling random make-up utensils from out of the bag, looking at some of them sceptically. He glared at the eyelash curler with pure confusion, even though he was probably the one who bought it for me, considering I wasn’t aloud out of the house alone. In fact, he’d bought me a lot of things in this house. I would show a little more gratitude if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d destroyed my old house.

“So, why were you a little down yesterday?” I asked as he smeared some kind of foundation all over my face. I didn’t have my eyes open to see what his reaction to the question was, so all I could do was wait. There was a long silence afterwards, so I assumed he didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t help but remain a little curious.

“It’s nothing, Harley,” he replied with a sigh. “Just forget about it.”

“I can’t forget about it. I’ve never seen you act like that before. I’m sorry for being a little concerned.” My eyes opened after he’d finished blending in the powdery substance, making sure to apply it heavily to the scars and bruises he created himself. “I’m also sorry for not asking earlier. I just figured you didn’t want me being nosy.”

“Do you really want to know?” He asked. I nodded in reply, trying my best not to smudge the lipstick he was applying. “It’s not a big deal. I just get a little cranky this time of the year. Years ago around Christmas time, I remember my parents used to fight a lot. And it wasn’t just little arguments either. Only being small and vulnerable at the time, I used to hide away in my room, hoping that my father wouldn’t try and find me. One night, he comes in from the snow completely intoxicated and out of his mind. I watch from my bedroom door as he immediately storms up the stairs, searching for my mother. As soon as he finds her, I hear screaming coming from their room. I walk up to the room and push the door open further and I see him with both hands around my mother’s neck. ‘Dad’, I call out to make him stop. When he does, he turns around and looks at me through bloodshot eyes. Still in his drunken stupor, he stumbles towards me as I begin taking steps back to get away from him. I hear my mother telling him to stop from behind. He doesn’t listen and continues walking towards me, muttering profanities under his breath. Just as he’s about to grab me, I heard a loud collision noise as my mother hits him over the back of the head with his own whiskey bottle. His hands fall limply to his side as I stare at him with utter terror. His legs cave in as he crumbles to the ground, falling down the stairs in the process. He was pronounced dead by the time the cops came.”

I didn’t know how to react. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t want to spoil the make-up he had just put on me. And he said it wasn’t a big deal; what a lie. “All done!” He said in a much more cheery voice in contrast to how he sounded previously. I was stunned at how fast his mood could flip in a second, but I smiled nonetheless. I glanced in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised at the job he had done. He had gone a bit heavy on the eyeliner, but that was the only fault he had made. I stood up from the stool and placed my lips to his neck, not wanting to smear his paint on my face. I felt his hand make its way up my back underneath my top and instead of feeling the cold, leathery feel; I felt his warm skin caressing mine. Where his gloves were, I didn’t know. His other hand went to the back of my head about to pull me into the kiss, despite the make-up, but we were rudely interrupted when a knock at the door could be heard.

We both knew exactly who it was already. The Joker let out an antagonised growl as he tore himself away from me and marched towards the bedroom door. Even I was a little irritated at the disruption.