Smile for Me

When I came back Joker’s hands were on my face, skittering across my skin, forcing me to smile. “Quinn. Stop,” he growled, eyes narrowed dangerously. I grabbed his wrists, trying to pull his hands away, but it was useless.

The room kept shifting in and out of focus, so I closed my eyes. “S-Scarecrow,” I blurted out, realizing what had happened. He wouldn’t be able to accept a loser like me threatening him. The pill he’d given me had chased the nightmare world away, replacing it with something else.

Joker shoved me away when I gagged, coughing spit onto the floor. I was distantly thankful that he hadn’t fed me in a few days. “S-Scarecrow gave me a pill,” I forced out, hoping Joker could hear me. Hoping he would go after Scarecrow and keep me safe. Joker crossed his arms and sat on the couch, tapping his foot. His eyes were empty. “Scarecrow did this?” I nodded, pausing for a moment when the room began to spin.

“He forgot the antidote. Didn’t want to, want to give it to me. Wanted to observe more. I thr-threatened him, told him to give it to me, me or you’d kill ‘im.” I could hear chimes again, mixing with the voices I had gotten used to. “Gave me a pill, said it’d make the nightmares go away.” I giggled, on the edge of hysteria. “I’d be, I’d be safe.”

Joker cackled, kicking out to knock me off my knees. “Stupid. You’re STUPID, Quinnie.” He jumped off the couch and onto me, heavy enough to push the air from my lungs. “Go to Scarecrow? YOU WENT TO SCARECROW?” His knife was to my neck. As I drifted in and out of the drug world, I couldn’t tell what was real or not. “S-Sorry. Wanted safe.”

He pushed against my chest, licking the tears from my face. “Gonna leave, Quinnie? You, ha, gonna go to Scarecrow, be his little subject? First, HA!, first CATWOMAN, NOW SCARECROW!” He slammed my head against the ground, hard enough that I saw white light. I groaned, trying to curl up, but he held my arms down. “You are mine. Mine mine mine, Quinnie, and I, hoo boy, I don’t like to SHARE!”

He punched me in the face until my nose broke. The pain was blinding, made worse by my shifting between reality and the drug world. “Please...don’....” I managed to get out, tasting blood on my lips. One of my eyes was swollen shut, throbbing. “Shut up. Shut up shut up shut UP, Quinnie,” he roared, tracing the knife up my throat and into my mouth.

I swallowed, knowing I already had scars there, gotten from the car accident and reopened by my screaming, but I didn’t want more. The blade was cold, biting into my tongue, icy as he pushed it against my lips. I kept as still as possible, even when the drug world appeared. His voice sounded far away as he said, “Cut out, haha, your eyes, Quinnie. Slice off your ears and feed them to Croc. Mail your, ha!, mail your tongue to Batsy.”

He chuckled and rolled off me, giving a good kick to my ribs. “You stay with me, Quinnie. You’re mine, but you seem to forget that.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe I should, ah, engrave it on you.” He moved me onto my stomach, pulling my shirt up. My broken nose was pressed against the floor and I whined, trying to turn over.

He held my head up by the hair, which hurt, but not as badly. When I felt the knife at the base of my spine I started struggling. “Joker! Stob...” I slurred out, broken nose making the words strange. He pushed my face into the floor and I screamed, then fell silent. “Shh, haha, shh, shh, Quinnie. No noise.” I shut my good eye tight as the knife bit into my skin. Joker tugged upward, fast enough that it was a second before the pain hit.

When it did, my body arched, trying to get him off me, chase the pain away. He’d ripped the skin open from the base of my spine to the top. Joker waited until I was still before he pulled me up to face him. Every inch of me was agony. “This is, haha, gonna hurt, Quinn.” I had a moment of confusion before his hands went to my nose and twisted, setting it back into place. It hurt enough to override my cut back, even if for just a second.

I yelped and pulled away from him, stumbling when the drug world made his eyes go neon green. “Can’t see....drugs...” I muttered as my head spun. He sighed and rummaged around in his coat for a minute, coming up with a syringe. “Stole this, ha, from Bats. Think it’s anti something or other.” He shrugged, sticking the needle into my arm without hesitation. Up close, I could see the Bat symbol on the side.

The pounding in my head faded slightly as the drug drained away, making me feel loose. “Go, haha, clean yourself up, Quinn,” Joker ordered, flicking the TV on. I got up to my hands and knees before finally standing, heading for the kitchen.

I grabbed the bag of frozen peas and held it against my face, wishing Joker had pain medicine. He didn’t, of course, since he either doesn’t feel pain or likes it, I’m not sure. I headed for the shower, undressing as quickly as possible without straining my back. I could feel the blood draining down, pooling inside my waistband.

I stepped into the shower, ignoring the stinging pain, and watched the water run red with my blood. Alone and naked, I could go over my injuries. My ribs were bruised, but not broken. From the waist down I was fine, only healing cuts and bruises. My previously broken fingers were painful, but not important.

My nose was broken, but Joker had straightened it, and it would heal with time. I knew I had a black eye, as well as, probably, a minor concussion. I washed out the cut on my back best I could and waited until the water wasn't quite so red before I got out.

Holding the frozen peas to my face with one hand, I pressed band aids against the cut on my back and dressed, then brushed my teeth to get the taste of blood from my mouth. I looked like hell, but it was my fault. I shouldn't have gone to Scarecrow, knowing what had happened last time. Joker could be really possessive.

I pasted a smile on and stepped from the bathroom. Joker glanced at me and nodded. “Better. I’ll find, ha, Scarecrow later, let him, ha, know not to mess with what’s mine.” I smiled for real this time, pleased to be claimed by him, and headed for the couch. I sat, wincing as my back was tugged open, but it was worth it to be close to him, his hands absently tracing my scars.