Just Paint Your Face

Daisy

"So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation, which, in the face of civilisation, artificially creates hells on earth, and complicates a destiny that is divine, with human fatality; so long as the three problems of the age — the degradation of man by poverty, the ruin of woman by starvation, and the dwarfing of childhood by physical and spiritual night — are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible; in other words, and from a yet more extended point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, books like this cannot be useless."

...

civilisation?

Damn, this book was old.

My mouth formed the difficult words slowly. As hard as it was to read, I understood everything. Because I understood what he saw within it.

My door opened. I smiled, thinking it was Ivy or The Joker.

But it wasn't.

It was that guy, that weird guy The Joker brought back as a new recruit. He look kinda strange. Must of been drunk. I wondered where he got the beer bottle he was holding. It was huge. He stood in the doorway staring at me, the bottle hanging limply in his hand.

"What are you do---"

And then, everything went into black and pain.

Ivy

He was talking to me about the books he'd brought her. We were happy in that moment, content. He was going to shake up a party tomorrow, and I was going to go with him. He even wanted to bring the girl.

But nothing ever comes in sunshine and rainbows when you follow down the path of a living hell.

He perked up.

A crash.

Glass breaking.

A child's scream.

He was out of bed, gun in hand, and dressed before I could blink. I followed the movement with the same conviction, followed him rushing out of the door and down the dimmed hall. I could see his men rushing out of the TV room. They were gathered outside Daisy's doorway. Goofy, Happy, and Grumpy were inside and I could hear sounds of struggling. My heart flew at a rapid rate. I could feel my hair forming into that tight ball again. The Joker was marching ahead of me, fists clenched and face harsh. The men stared at him and all began speaking at once.

"It was Gambol's man, nobody else!"

"Hit her hard boss, real hard."

"Drunk!"

"WHO GAVE HIM THE BEER?"

"Huh?"

"Who gave it to him, hm? You know I don't like that shit here."

One of them raised his hand.

The Joker pumped bullets straight into his body without a second thought and rushed into the room. I didn't want to see. Didn't want to think about the possibility. But I knew I'd have to. And my overprotective nature for the girl commanded I push the men roughly out of my way and stand in the doorway.

I saw Goofy and Grumpy grabbing the new recruit by the arms and legs. Happy was kicking him in the ribs violently. My eyes shifted over a few feet.

Red and broken glass.

She was on the floor, mumbling incoherently. She twitched strangely, her eyes were shut. Blood was draining from her head slowly.

"GOOFY GET A MOB DOCTOR. SOMETHING. Fuck. Oh fuck. So much blood."

The Joker rushed over to her. Goofy ran off. Grumpy spit in the man's face as Happy kicked. I stayed frozen, the ivy in my forearm crawling and quivering all over my body as a strange sensation of rage, sadness and fear welled up in my body.

I stood rigid with the others, watching it all as if it were some awful scene in a movie. The Joker was kneeling over her, tearing off cloth from his shirt and tying it around her head wound. It was amazing that she remained conscious. She was giggling madly. A book lay near her head. He picked her up gently to get her away from the shards of glass, laying her on the bed. She said something about tea in the garden. About the birds flying away.

The Joker stood, now drawing his gun again. He stood over the man that had done it, aimed it.

"I'd shoot you..." He said, his voice gruff and bitter, "but you don't deserve it."

He coughed and sputtered weakly.

It was then, as I heard life in the man, that my mind went dark and my blood ran cold.

"Oh, you're a stupid, stupid boy."

And the vines took over. I held him up first, shaking him hard. I threw him around the hallway, screaming. I squeezed him until I saw blood drip darkly between my winding thorns.

"You like hitting people's heads? Huh? I'll give you a head injury you'll like."

I threw him with an inhumane force against the wall, satisfied by the sharp crack that echoed in the hall as his skull busted.

Blood everywhere. The men stood frozen behind me. I turned.

"What do you want?"

They said nothing. I rushed into the room, remembering Daisy. My hair became lank again.

She lay on the mattress. The Joker stood over her, bent slightly.
Her face was pale and she kept ranting deliriously. The Joker seemed to understand it.

"The glass." She spat. Her words were muddled and hard to understand. They ran into one another like a series of car crashes, "It shines like stars. Broke. Broked. Shines like stars in my head."

He nodded. I walked over to where she was. With each step, my throat swelled and my heart shriveled. My vision became hazy as my eyes misted. I could feel my body tremble as I knelt down and looked upon her, could hear myself sob as she yelled,

"...Dwarfing of childhood by physical and spiritual night!"

"GET OUT. Get out, all of you. Can't you see she's UPSET?" He roared and they scattered again like filthy dogs.

"Goofy's back." The guy named Grumpy proclaimed. Goofy came in masked, holding an intelligent looking man at gunpoint into the room. He held a black bag of tools. He didn't look like the kind of doctor you found in the hospital, but he looked like one in the eyes. He eyed the mess I'd made with Gambol's man warily and shook.

The Joker stood up rigidly, tugging me to stand back. I obeyed only because I felt so numb I could fight back any longer.

"Get the glass out of her head and fix her, goddammit, or I'll slit your face open."

The man nodded, frightened. I left. I couldn't stomach looking at the wound in her head. I'd much rather stare at the mutilated body of the man who'd caused her pain. The Joker stayed, frozen in a slouching stance. His hands stood on his temples, rubbing them.

I stared and stared and stared off into space. Such a short time. This whole thing. Not too long ago I would've passed the high school sneering, not too long ago I would've turned on the TV to see her face and think, oh how unfortunate. I wonder what movie is on TNT tonight. Not too long ago I would've seen The Joker on television and think about what a creep he was, instead of knowing that he read books and lost a baby and hated those who messed with kids. Not too long ago I wouldn't have killed men or took young girls out of school to live with a couple of freaks in a warehouse.

"Oh..." I whispered, "Oh, what have I done..."

"What you could."

My head snapped up and he was there. His shirt was torn and his hands were stained. His eyes were puffy and red. I looked away.

"What'd the doctor say?"

"S-she... uh, if she makes it through the night, she's okay."

"If?"

"If."

"And what then?"

"He gave me some antibiotics to fight off infection. There may be brain damage, she got hit pretty bad."

Goofy, Grumpy, and Happy walked over now, silently cleaning up the mess I'd made.

Goofy was stupid. Which was why he was the only clown making comments, "She's gonna be alright, boss. You bet. She won't be the same no more, but I reckon she can pull herself outta anything."

Grumpy sighed. Happy nodded. Grumpy was an older, dark-skinned man. Happy looked quite young and almost always smiled. He was smiling as he washed the blood stains off the concrete with an old rag.

I shuddered. We heard Daisy singing lazily.

"1, 2, throw the dude. 3, 4, blood on the floor!"

She giggled hauntingly. The Joker turned back into the room and I followed. We'd both agreed silently to sit there the entire night.

"Dad. Dad. You didn't need the rope. You just need her, that's all. You just need her."

"Sh, sh, sh. I know, kid."

"Once upon a time there was a clown who liked guns and a model who sat in the garden..."

She went on like that. On and on and on. Some moments she'd quote Diogenes. Others she'd relive conversations from her old life. Her new one.

"You got eggshell in there."

"He makes eggs into his shriveled smile."

Her eyes were shut. We couldn't tell if she was dreaming or slipping in and out of consciousness.

She would make nonsensical exclamations, profound observations. I suppose it was her way of dealing with the pain. Either way, we'd listen intently. The Joker sat slumped as I posed straightened.

"Hey. Hey guys." She sounded so sane. He perked up, suddenly touching my hand.

"...The birds are flying away." She giggled madly.

"And I won't sing anymore."