Give Me a Smile

I curled up and cried into my knees. My ribs ached and I could feel bruises forming all over my body. My eye was throbbing. I touched it gently and winced, then started crying when my hand came away red. Joker had given me a bloody nose.

I was angry, but also ashamed. Maybe he’d gone a tad too far, but I shouldn’t have talked about Catwoman so much. I knew he got jealous easily. I forced myself up and tottered to a bathroom, ignoring stares from the few men still in the hallway. I stopped the bleeding and dabbed at my bruises.

The scent of my blood filled the room and I began to feel sick, stomach twisting. I puked into the toilet and wiped my mouth before returning to the room.

I was sleeping fitfully when Joker came back. I felt his hand on my back and opened my eyes. It was too hard to open my left eye, which he’d blackened, so I stopped trying. “Hey, Quinn,” he said gently, tracing the bruise on my face. “H-Hi.”

“Got you pretty bad this time, huh?” I struggled up to my elbow, whimpering when my ribs twinged. “Just a little. It’s okay though.” He chuckled and took his jacket off, draping it over a chair and smoothing out the wrinkles. “Where did you go?” “Went to let off a bit of steam,” he told me as he went to the kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” I said. I expected him to toss me a granola bar or something, but instead there were rummaging noises. “What are you doing?” He leaned out from the kitchen and grinned at me. “Getting you something for that eye.” He searched around for a bit before coming out with a side of beef. “Here. Use this.”

It was damp and heavy, kind of gross. I took it anyway and pressed it against my face. “Why are you helping me?” He screwed up his mouth and looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Eh?” “I get hurt all the time. You never gave me anything to heal myself. Why now?” He gave me an easy smile, tossing over an apple and crackers.

“I didn’t mean to bruise your face. I fix things when I make mistakes.” I accepted that and ate. Joker turned the TV on and sat in the chair, elbows on his knees. He seemed pretty intent on it, so I sat there silently and watched with him. He was on the noise. A penthouse, belonging to Missy Revera, had been blown up.

Three people were dead, twenty wounded. She was fine, but the money she’d kept there was gone. Missy Revera is socialite who inherited all her money from her mom and wasted it on ridiculous parties. The news changed to commercial and Joker laughed, shaking against my arm.

He fanned out dollar bills between his fingers and cackled. “Hey, ah, hey, Quinnie! Guess where I got these!” “Where?” He peered closely at me and grinned, showing his molars. “Missy Revera’s penthouse!” He tossed it up in the air and watched cash flutter to the ground. Hundreds. They were all hundred dollar bills.

“Why’d you destroy her penthouse?” He tilted his head at me and grinned madly. “I don’t like her smile.” “But...the money...it....” I babbled, staring at the bills. “So? I don’t need it. If I want something, I’ll just take it,” he said lazily, aiming his knife at the door. He threw with deadly aim and hit the middle with a thunk.

“What will you do with it?” “Probably give it to the men. They like to shop.” He giggled and got up to retrieve the knife. Halfway there he turned to me and examined my face. “Do you want some?” I scooped up a few bills and let them slip through my fingers. “Nah. I think I’m good.” He gave me everything I needed or wanted.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a sec. Gotta get something.” Joker slammed the door behind himself and returned soon after carrying a box, which he dumped on the table. “Turn the TV off, Quinnie. I need to focus on this.” I obeyed as he emptied the box and spread its contents across the table. There were gears and small metal objects and lots of technical papers. I couldn’t understand a thing.

Joker didn’t seem to notice me come up and peer over his shoulder. He muttered something and grabbed a pencil from his jacket, then scrawled a few words. “And...ahem...this, he’ll react to a shot...aha!...yes...that’ll do nicely....this goes three times to the right....equivalent to 6.03....”

His hands danced madly across the paper, touching here or there, rearranging and building his organized chaos. It was nice to watch him. I’d never seen him serious, a little crease forming between his eyes as he worked. His tongue darted out and licked at his scars every few seconds. I jumped when he jabbed his knife into a paper, hissing, “Right there,” before he continued. After a while I got bored, so I left him behind with his plans.

His place was empty of men, probably because they were shopping. I wandered into one of the lower corridors and got a tad lost. Just as I found my way I heard a small noise nearby. I peeked around a corner to see Catwoman.

Her back was to me as she scrutinized the wall, which was dotted with red sticky notes. It smelled terrible for some reason, almost rusty. I didn’t make a sound, but she heard me somehow. She spun and leaped, catching me easily. I closed my eyes and prepared for her claws across my face, but nothing came.

Instead, she let me go and stepped back. “Hello there,” she murmured, sheathing her claws. A small sack was cradled in her left arm. “Hi...” I knew I was supposed to be calling for Joker, because there was no way Catwoman was supposed to be here, and she was holding a probably stolen object, but I didn’t.

“Do I know you? Your face is familiar,” she said carefully, peering at my scars. “I’m Quinn. Joker kidnapped me a couple months ago.” She gave me a megawatt smile and nodded. “Now I remember.” Catwoman stretched casually and purred. “How are you still alive? Do you want me to rescue you?” She winked, “Us girls have to stick together.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t need to be rescued. Batman already did that, but I came back to Joker. And he likes my scars, I think. That’s why I’m alive.” Her beautiful face was sad. “You’re here willingly? You don’t need to stay, you know. I mean, your face...” She motioned awkwardly at my black eye.

“I like it here. I like Joker. He makes everything interesting. I’m not weak anymore. He thinks my scars are lovely,” I said softly. “Maybe, but what he did to those men....” I glanced up at her. “Huh? What men?” She gave me another blinding smile and shook her head. “Ah, never mind. Don’t want to overwhelm you.”

There was a crash from upstairs that made us both flinch. She started running, then looked back at me. “You won’t tell him I was here, will you?” I shrugged. “No. I won’t tell.” Catwoman kissed my forehead in the same place Poison Ivy had. “Thanks. See you, Quinn.” She was gone before I could respond.