You Don't Own Me

Violet wandered for a long time, trying every time someone passed to hitchhike. She had no idea where she was going; J's house was far enough out of Gotham that she wasn't even really too sure where she was or how to get back to the city. She had the cell phone that J had given her tucked into the waistband of her shorts, but it's not like she had anyone's phone number but his and she definitely couldn't call the police or anything. She thought about calling a cab, but remembered yet again that she wasn't totally sure where she was.

Finally, a man pulled off to the side of the road to pick her up. He looked her over and she instantly became hyper-aware of the fact that she was only wearing a thin pair of pajama shorts and a sports bra covered by a thin tank top. She got into his Jeep despite her better judgement.

"Hello, little lady," he said, and just the way he spoke to her made her skin crawl.

"Hi," she responded carefully, waiting until he wasn't paying full attention to her to survey the inside of the car. She was hoping maybe he'd have a gun on him that she could go for, but he didn't seem to.

"Where ya headed?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"I don't really know."

"Hard morning?" he asked, and she knew he was just trying to make conversation but she wanted to punch him. He glanced at her, taking in the creamy flesh of her exposed legs. She shivered under his gaze.

"You could say that."

"You're talkative," he said, smiling a little. He placed his hand on her bare thigh and moved it back and forth slowly. Obviously it was supposed to be sexy or something like that, but mostly it made her skin crawl more than it already had been. She slapped his hand away and he gave her a disgruntled look.

"Listen, I appreciate you stopping for me but I really think maybe I should get out," she said a moment later, and he shook his head just slightly.

"I don't think so," he said, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Look dude, you really don't want to mess with me," she said, and he chuckled.

"Is that so?" he asked, turning down a side street and speeding up.

"You obviously don't watch the news very often," she observed, and he glanced at her again.

"The news?" he asked, and she could almost see her face clicking in his brain. Maybe he did watch the news, after all. "You're that girl, aren't you?" he asked. "The one who broke out of Arkham with the Joker?"

"Bingo," she said, smiling at him manically. He pulled the truck over at once. The tires skidded and the smell of rubber permeated the air.

"You killed a bunch of guys. Your father included," he said, reaching across her and tossing the car door open. "If you just get away from me I won't call the police," he said, and she was surprised at how quickly his demeanor had changed.

"I killed molesters and rapists. I killed disgusting men who had been traumatizing women and children for most of their lives," she said, feeling herself growing more and more frantic. She knew she was getting to that point where she wouldn't be able to reel it in; that moment of sheer abandon that came over her sometimes and almost always resulted in something awful. Normally, she would have gotten out of the truck and run away from him as fast as she could, but in that moment, she wanted to give in to it. She was upset that J had kicked her out, upset that her father was still finding a way to haunt her even from the grave. She missed J already and she was fairly sure this man had originally had less than commendable intentions upon picking her up.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Just go please," he said, and she smile at him in a way that reminded her of J.

"Why did you pick me up today?" she asked, and he stammered.

"I just... I saw you and you looked like you needed help," he said, and she cackled at the way he trembled as he spoke.

"See, I just don't buy that. I think you saw a scantily clad girl walking down the street and very quickly formed the intention to do something awful to her," she said, her voice high-pitched and uncontrolled.

"Fine. Fine, okay? I thought maybe I'd get some. I wasn't going to take advantage of you or anything if you didn't want to, though," he said, and she shook her head.

"I don't believe you!" she screamed, and in one fluid motion she hopped across the seats and perched herself on his lap. Her back dug into the steering wheel and she felt the bruises it was going to create later, but she didn't care. She wrapped her slim fingers around the guy's neck and squeezed as hard as she could. He tried to fight back; his arms flailed all around her and even struck her a few times, knocking her off-center. Her grip loosened for a moment and then tightened even harder. After a few minutes, he stopped struggling and his body flopped sideways out of the Jeep.

She looked at his limp body and didn't really know how to feel. Tears rose to her eyes and she wasn't sure why and she wasn't sure what to do next. Finally, she did the only thing that came to mind.

"Violet."

J's voice came through the receiver of the phone and she was surprised he'd answered.

"I need help."

He didn't answer her again for a long time, and by the time he did she was full-on crying.

"What happened?"

She could tell he was trying to control his voice, but she could hear the concern sneaking into it.

"I killed a guy."

"Another one?"

"Yeah. He picked me up and he was going to take advantage of me and I snapped. I don't... I don't know what happened."

She sobbed the words through the phone at him, and quickly realized she was having a panic attack.

"Stay where you are."

His end of the line went dead and when she went to stick the phone back into her waistband, her hand was shaking so much that it fell to the ground instead.