Just Paint Your Face

I'd been staring out from my window for some time, still wrapped in a coarse gray towel. My red hair was damp and wavy. The Joker card lay dis-comfortingly next to one of my flowerpots.

I squinted at the people below. Muggers in black hoodies, trying to blend in with the night, shifting around like flies waiting for some unexpecting pedestrian. Cops roaming the streets in their cruisers, ignoring all those with the exception of the folks who couldn't pay them enough to keep quiet. Bums sleeping restlessly underneath the bleak glow of streetlamps, hookers throwing themselves at the expensive looking businessmen driving their compensating cars, on the way home to their lovely trophy wives.

Gotham city made me sick. It was going to hell, eating itself alive. Why not let someone like that wacko have his fun? It couldn't get any worse.

Deep down my heart was telling me this. But my mind shamed me into pushing such radical thoughts away. I'd been thinking them for the longest time, of course, but my encounter with that... man... was unveiling fresh wounds within my mind.

I was still shocked that he'd let me be without much more than the bruises forming around my wrists and a small cut on my lip.

Why me? He could've gotten to Harvey... even Rachel would've been better. Why a secreta--

My doorbell buzzed obnoxiously. I jumped. I was a nervous wreck. I began to feel my knees shake again. I grasped my towel tightly until my knuckles were even whiter than they were normally. I bit my lip, opening the small cut and tasting copper.

It could've been him, couldn't it? He knew enough about me to know I worked for Dent, knew enough to find me on the walk home. It was likely he knew where I lived as well. I stiffened defensively as the image of that painted face and greasy green hair flashed into my mind.

Another buzz. This one more urgent.

My stomach flipped. I took a deep breath. Should I open the door slow or fast? Would he attack me, laughing and stabbing and--

"Rachel? Rachel." I breathed again, "Oh, it's you."

"May!" She cried in relief and happiness, "Of course it's me. Where have you been? Harvey said you didn't call in to work and... what's wrong, May? You're pale. Paler than usual, anyways." She nudged her way in, feeling my head with her hand and eyeing me strangely.

"How long have I been gone?" I asked hoarsely. My mind raced.

"A day... it's Saturday, May. Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine I just... I've just been really sick. Haven't even been able to get out of bed."

"Doesn't sound like you. Besides... what's that." Rachel suddenly grabbed the wrist not clutching my towel, her gray eyes staring into my green ones.

You could tell her... sort this whole thing out right now. Get someone to protect you...

Yeah, by some idiot or paid off cop. And then end up in the morgue with slits running from my mouth.

No. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction in sending me out that way.

"Nothing. It's nothing.... Alright, I got mugged the other day. Then I was sick. I slept most of time, I couldn't call in. Happy now? You're off work, you don't have to interrogate me."

"Somebody's defensive."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you. It was just... it made me nervous. I'm going to go change." While Rachel made herself comfortable on my large couch, I discreetly picked up the Joker card and placed it in my dresser drawer, thankful she hadn't noticed it. She yelled out conversation from the couch as I put some sweats and a t-shirt on. A rare thing, but I needed it.

"What'd they take?"

"Nothing. I used the mace and ran."

"Didn't you call the cops? Do you know who it was?"

"No, I just want to be left alone and move on, okay?"

I didn't want to tell stories. Stories turned into obvious lies.

My mother.... was a drinker...

She stopped questioning me about it, knowing that this was the way I usually reacted to such things. I was relieved that Rachel had known me long enough to not scold or judge the way I handled violence and hardship.

I joined her on the couch.

My apartment was simply decorated, but I kept it very clean. I had a few paintings of flowers hanging up that I'd done in my spare time. Nothing remarkable. But I'd never gotten around to really making careers of any hobbies. The apartment wasn't much, just like the life I lived. But I didn't mind back then.

The news was now mentioning the mysterious newspapers, "The Joker Times", similar to the ones Harvey showed me at his office. I grabbed the remote quickly, switching it to the next channel.

"I was watching that!" Rachel frowned.

"Why do you even watch that junk? More serious shit's going on outside. Go look out my window."

"I know you would think that, May, but this is different... this is getting scary. Harvey's been getting--"

Didn't I know the truth. But I kept my mouth shut about that, interrupting her,

"Let's just watch something else. I've had a bad time these past couple of days."

Rachel nodded and we turned the channel to some mindless reality show. We were quiet for a while when she finally spoke,

"Harvey was worried about you."

"I can imagine. The man can hardly tie his shoes when I'm not around."

Rachel giggled, "At least I can tell him you're alright and you're your old self. You really should start taking the bus home, you know. Or at least a taxi."

"Don't get me started."

"Think about it."

"I'll think about it."

Rachel was satisfied with my answer and moved on, twirling some of her brown hair between her fingers absentmindedly. Rachel and I had been friends since college. She was pretty, but we both were, so I didn't envy her. Though her career had been more ambitious.

"Harvey and I are going out next weekend. You're coming."

"What?" My voice sounded agitated, distracted, "No, Rachel, I can't..."

"Come on, I set up a date and everything."

"With who?"

"An old friend. Bruce Wayne."

"Oh god, Rachel, you know he's not my type." I scoffed. I wasn't into the rich guys all that much. I wasn't into socializing, period. I was known for my reclusive nature around people I hardly knew, especially if they were from a totally different social class.

"I just want you there, okay? This is the first time Harvey and Bruce are going to meet and I'm nervous... I need a peacemaker."

I smiled, knowing this was true, "Alright, alright. But I won't be all that nice."

"Even better." She smiled and I laughed for the first time since my 'nightmare'. I didn't think I was going to be able to do it again, but I did. This would be a good way to forget things maybe, perhaps even to gather information.

You shouldn't think like that, you have time to get out of this. I scolded myself inwardly. But I knew I had to. To stay alive. The Clown was different. I just knew.

Rachel left later telling me to "get better soon". Sunday passed without much activity, except for my jumping at every little noise and the bad dreams I'd had. On Monday morning I pulled myself together and walked outside for the first time since work. Even though it was morning in Gotham City, I was more wary and fearful than usual. When I passed the high school, I became infuriated as I saw that girl with green hair and thick eyeliner.

If she'd seen him, she'd never want to dress up like that, never--

Who was I kidding, getting so worked up? This was just another typical kid with her little 'scene' fad. Isn't that what they called it? I breathed in sharply. I felt the need for a cigarette.

I suddenly remembered they way he'd smiled, the way he'd touched my cheek and had his face so dangerously close to mine...

I shook my head and screwed my eyes shut tight. I had to forget.

Don't forget, Ivy.

"Otherwise, you're dead." I whispered to myself. The vocalization of that fact brought fresh tears to my eyes as they finally opened--stinging, reluctant, and bitter. I hadn't been moved in such a way since I could remember. I was usually so strong, usually such a survivor.

That was how I knew that he would change my life forever.