‹ Prequel: Give Me a Smile
Sequel: Smile With Me
Status: Finished

Smile for Me


One guy gripped the collar of my straitjacket, another holding my shoulders. “You think she’s his?” asked a guy with tattooed knuckles.

“Eh?” “You think she’s his daughter or something? I bet he gave her the scars. Fuckin’ creepy.” Someone let go of me, peering close. I kept quiet. My voice is ruined and gravelly from the car accident that gave me the scars, so I don’t speak much. “Nah. She’s too old to be his kid. Maybe an old girlfriend.” The men laughed nastily.

“You thinkhe’dhave an ex-girlfriend? No one who hangs around him gets out alive. Look at Harley.” There was a pause as they thought of her. “I saw her, y’know. Right before she died. She was fuckin’ laughing. Likehim. Some guy has his hands around her neck and shelaughs.The boss just watched. Didn’t even care. I heard he fished her out of the river later, though,” the guy behind me murmured.

“Fuckin’ sicko.” The tattooed man hushed them both. “Shut up, dumbasses. What if she tells the boss?” Someone shook me, hard. My head hurt. “Her? She’s probably crazier than the boss. Gotta be deaf or something. She hasn’t said a word,” he said uneasily. Tattooed man crouched in front of me, leaning close. I shook the hair from my eyes and grinned at him. He grimaced and stood up. “You’re probably right. I don’t want to know what she’s thinking anyway,” he said.

“Boss killed Charlie for saying shit about her.” “The boss kills people all the time.” Tattooed guy shrugged and turned to the door. “Whatever. She’ll probably be dead in a few days.” The other men agreed and were silent. I closed my eyes, hoping to make the headache go away. I spit blood onto the floor and sniffed.

Someone put a hand under my chin and raised my head. Joker smiled at me. “Were you, ha, were you a good girl, Quinnie?” His face was streaked with dirt and he bled from a long cut near his ear. I nodded. The hands around my arms gripped a little tighter as the men realized Iwasn’tdeaf. “I’m ALLdone.Ready to, ha, go home?”

I nodded again and leaned forward into his shoulder. He smelled like smoke, just as I remembered. Smoke and blood. Joker grunted and nudged me away. “I’m gonna, HA!, cut you out of that jacket.” I heard the snick of his knife and my arms were freed. I stretched my hands out, wincing at the muscle cramps. “Did you leave a scar for every day you, ha, spent without me?” Joker asked. I smiled. “You remembered.”

Last time, the first time I’d been taken from Joker, I had given myself a scar every day. I have scars still, old ones from being with him. Fresh new scars from myself. Joker laughed and clapped my back. “Of course, haha, I did. You’re, ah, skinny, Quinnie.”

He chuckled at his rhyme and ruffled my close-cropped hair. “And they’ve sheared you like a sheep. If it wasn’t, hah, for your prettyscarsI wouldn’t have known you.” He kissed my scars and cackled as we left the asylum.