‹ Prequel: Give Me a Smile
Sequel: Smile With Me ›
Status: Finished
Smile for Me
Paranoid
It was the first time I’d been free in years. Gotham hadn’t changed. The same gloomy, looming buildings and miserable people. The same squalor and sense of fear. I loved it. I’d missed Gotham so much. Joker slipped down an alley way, glancing from left to right. We must have been safe, because he continued on, ducking under ladders and over trash, keeping hold of my wrist the entire time.
He sent his henchmen off shortly before we stopped behind a large, grey stone building. “Welcome back, Quinnie,” he said, winking at me. I smiled as he shoved a door open, revealing the room inside. Men bustled around, calling to each other as they put....teddy bears...inside a truck. They stopped when Joker cleared his throat.
“Hello, boys. I’m, haha, back. You all did very well at, hah, Arkham, although we did lose a few...friends. Ha! Tragic!” He laughed into his sleeve for a few seconds. “Anyway, I want those, hoo, trucks loaded and READY by ten. I have a, ha!, special delivery for Gotham’s toy stores.” He gave an evil smile and spun around, taking me by the hand. “C’mon, Quinnie. Let me, haha, show you around.”
Joker led me through dark corridors until I was panting and tired. It reminded me of the first time I’d met him, when he’d held up my school. He liked my scars, so he kidnapped me. I thought of our long journey through tunnels and smiled. I had been so afraid then. I still was, but not of him. Well, not really. It’s always wise to be a little scared of the Joker. “Where are we going?” He didn’t look back or respond. I was desperate not to annoy him, so I didn’t ask again.
We eventually reached our goal, a small room that had to be deep underground. There were no windows and the silence was eerie. There was only a tattered bed and his mysterious suitcase inside. Doors led off to rooms he didn’t show me.
I hoped there was a TV or books to entertain me. And him, because Joker is even more dangerous when he’s bored. I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, breathing hard. It had been a long time since I’d exercised. Joker sprawled himself on the bed and took a knife out, tossing it into the air. I watched as he caught it centimeters before it pierced his eye. He’d always liked dangerous games.
Suddenly he sat up and stalked through one of the doors. There were crashing noises and he came back out, tossing an apple and a slice of pizza at me. “Eat.” The pizza was cold, but I gobbled it down anyway, smiling thankfully at him with sauce-smeared teeth. Joker sat up on the bed, elbows on his knees. His eyes darted from my face, to the ceiling, to the door, and back.
It struck me that he’d gotten paranoid. Well, even more paranoid. We were hidden far underground, surrounded by guards, and his whole body was tense. But I was here with him. It made me proud that he trusted me like that. I was sure it meant he loves me.
Joker jumped up and strolled over to me, grabbing my face. His hands were dry and warm, fingernails pricking my skin. He looked as fierce as the day I’d met him, scars stretched grotesquely by his smile. He moved my head up and down, stroked my scars, drew a knife across my throat, always with the same curious look in his eyes. Like he was a child examining a doll.
“You’ve changed, Quinnie,” he said softly. “Look how thin, ha, your face is. I like the pale skin. Makes the scars really pop. Arkham really did a number on you.” He chuckled and kissed my scars. “You’ve got crazy eyes now, Quinnie. Beautiful. Arkham Asylum made you perfect.” Suddenly I was crying, broken down and exhausted. Joker grinned down at me, enjoying the sight of my tears. He always loved to see me cry.
He sent his henchmen off shortly before we stopped behind a large, grey stone building. “Welcome back, Quinnie,” he said, winking at me. I smiled as he shoved a door open, revealing the room inside. Men bustled around, calling to each other as they put....teddy bears...inside a truck. They stopped when Joker cleared his throat.
“Hello, boys. I’m, haha, back. You all did very well at, hah, Arkham, although we did lose a few...friends. Ha! Tragic!” He laughed into his sleeve for a few seconds. “Anyway, I want those, hoo, trucks loaded and READY by ten. I have a, ha!, special delivery for Gotham’s toy stores.” He gave an evil smile and spun around, taking me by the hand. “C’mon, Quinnie. Let me, haha, show you around.”
Joker led me through dark corridors until I was panting and tired. It reminded me of the first time I’d met him, when he’d held up my school. He liked my scars, so he kidnapped me. I thought of our long journey through tunnels and smiled. I had been so afraid then. I still was, but not of him. Well, not really. It’s always wise to be a little scared of the Joker. “Where are we going?” He didn’t look back or respond. I was desperate not to annoy him, so I didn’t ask again.
We eventually reached our goal, a small room that had to be deep underground. There were no windows and the silence was eerie. There was only a tattered bed and his mysterious suitcase inside. Doors led off to rooms he didn’t show me.
I hoped there was a TV or books to entertain me. And him, because Joker is even more dangerous when he’s bored. I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, breathing hard. It had been a long time since I’d exercised. Joker sprawled himself on the bed and took a knife out, tossing it into the air. I watched as he caught it centimeters before it pierced his eye. He’d always liked dangerous games.
Suddenly he sat up and stalked through one of the doors. There were crashing noises and he came back out, tossing an apple and a slice of pizza at me. “Eat.” The pizza was cold, but I gobbled it down anyway, smiling thankfully at him with sauce-smeared teeth. Joker sat up on the bed, elbows on his knees. His eyes darted from my face, to the ceiling, to the door, and back.
It struck me that he’d gotten paranoid. Well, even more paranoid. We were hidden far underground, surrounded by guards, and his whole body was tense. But I was here with him. It made me proud that he trusted me like that. I was sure it meant he loves me.
Joker jumped up and strolled over to me, grabbing my face. His hands were dry and warm, fingernails pricking my skin. He looked as fierce as the day I’d met him, scars stretched grotesquely by his smile. He moved my head up and down, stroked my scars, drew a knife across my throat, always with the same curious look in his eyes. Like he was a child examining a doll.
“You’ve changed, Quinnie,” he said softly. “Look how thin, ha, your face is. I like the pale skin. Makes the scars really pop. Arkham really did a number on you.” He chuckled and kissed my scars. “You’ve got crazy eyes now, Quinnie. Beautiful. Arkham Asylum made you perfect.” Suddenly I was crying, broken down and exhausted. Joker grinned down at me, enjoying the sight of my tears. He always loved to see me cry.