Sequel: Smile for Me
Status: Finished :)

Give Me a Smile

Scars

Batman didn’t come. The Joker threw the door open, scarred lips cracking into a delighted smile. “THERE you all are! Now come on, come on, don’t be sad! Smile! I just have, I need, to have some attention from a certain cloaked, haha, rodent, if you, hoo!, catch my drift. But he’s ignoring me...”

The Joker mocked a pout, and turned away from us before spinning back with a grin, twisting a knife between his fingers. “Maybe a little, haha, loss of life will bring him back to me. I so, well, well, bored, ya see?!” His eyes searched the room and landed on a girl named Tasha, who had once called me an ugly freak to my face.

“Ah, here we go. Look at those big eyes! Don’t be scared, now. It’ll all be over in one.....little.....cut....” He cut her throat with practiced ease, letting her body slip to the floor before he straightened. People were crying now, and one girl screamed shrilly near me.

“Alright then, folks, who’s....” The Joker stopped talking when his gaze landed on me. I was hunched over in the back corner. Don’t think I’m so beautiful that I took his breath away or something stupid like that. I wasn’t pretty before the accident, and I’m definitely not pretty now.

It was the scars that decorate my face. When I was sixteen, I got in an accident that killed my father and badly wounded me. There’s a scar going down the middle of my nose, and various small scars dotting my forehead. The real attention grabbers, though, are the scars at the corners of my mouth, splitting my lips and cheeks in a twisted smile that matches The Jokers.

The accident also damaged my throat, leaving me with a deep, gravelly voice that’s easy for people to mock. The scars only caused them to fear me.
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People who have low self esteem because of perceived or real imperfections in their looks tend to fall for the first person who is kind to them.