Blind Photographs

“She came with me willingly,” The Joker added quickly.

He pulled my ear to get a better look at my number before scanning it and handing the Joker a small bag. He drove off and I was led to a brightly lit medical center where I was passed off to a nurse.

“We’re glad to have you back, 7736505! Just take a seat right here and a doctor is going to come in and draw a bit of blood for testing, then we’ll get you right back on your pills and into a rehabilitation center, before you know it you’ll be back to living a normal life,” She said cheerfully, giving me a change of clothes.

Once I was changed, I thought back. Way back. Back to my first adventures all the way to what had just happened. It was all going to be gone soon, I’d have a new life started and unless something went wrong and I got taken off my pills again, I would never even knew it had happened. It had happened before. A doctor came in, like the nurse had said, and put a thin needle into my arm.

“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it? I see your withdrawal hasn’t been good to you, we’ll get you something to clear up your eyesight again, alright?”

A patch of gauze was put over the puncture and I was brought back out again. Handcuffs dangled loosely from my bony wrists. Stress was never a friend to me.

"Just for precaution," They'd reassure me.

Sitting in chairs waiting for transportation were some killjoys I recognized from my travels, others who I’d never seen before. I kept my eyes on the ground.

This was just as bad as being a traitor. I needed to do it though, I needed to.

“Get in the truck.” One of the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W guards said gruffly, pushing a pink haired killjoy so hard she almost fell over.

I got in after her and the door slammed shut behind us. I looked at their faces before quickly wishing I hadn’t. Solemn faces with pleading eyes. All of them. The pink haired killjoy put her bound hands on my shoulder

“It’ll be alright, motor baby.” That just about pushed me over the edge.

I made a terrible, terrible mistake. I started crying and didn’t stop until the door opened again and I was too scared to make noise.

This was not a brave thing to do.

This was not the right thing to do.

I never even told the fabulous killjoys who I was. For better or for worse, now I’d never know.

I cringed as gloved white hands brought me to the glass box. How could I bring myself back into this? I didn’t want to forget everyone. After this I wouldn’t even know I wanted to go. As the guards turned and left, right before the gas turned on, I managed to ask myself one last thing.

“Who are you, Destroya?”