Body Count

A smiling, happy face - nice to wake up to. The smell of bacon sizzling in the kitchen - nice to wake up to. The feeling of cold silver pressed insistently upon the sweaty skin of your neck - not relatively nice to wake up to.

But for Shane, this was the daily routine for the next few weeks - sleeping on and off for five to six hours, and being rudely awoken just when the darkness of slumber welcomed her. And always, always, was there a knife pressed to her body when this happened.

One cold, crisp morning - nearly a month after Shane's bold escape - she woke up once again to the familiarly cruel stab of a knife, adding to the many small scratches along her collar bone. Her eyes snapped open, and her hand jumped instinctively to her neck. The knife sliced her palm mercilessly, and her gaze flicked over to The Joker, who was kneeling over her with a disturbing expression of tranquility on his face.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said quietly. "Would you like to know what we're doing today?"

She nodded, as she had nodded every day for the past few weeks, every single morning. Pushing herself up on her uninjured hand - the left one had cracked unpleasantly in one of her previous scrabbles with The Joker, during which she had accidentally said 'Thank you,' for a bit of bread - she yawned widely. The blade of the knife dug into her skin, and her jaw snapped shut quickly.

"Well," he began, his eyes never quite focusing entirely on Shane, but darting from the tree to the sky to Shane to the ground and back again, "We're going to play a little game on the highway."

She blinked. Never before had they left the shelter of the expansive forest bordering the highway, instead walking for hours on end along the length of it, turning sharply whenever they saw or heard a car whizz by. "What kind of game?" she questioned, stretching her broken and healing fingers experimentally.

He looked at her disapprovingly. "Oh, now, we wouldn't want to ruin all the fun by ... by knowing ahead of time, do we? No, no, no," he shook his head, tutting. "I'm going to make it a big ... surprise!" A high pitched chuckle ripped out of his throat, and he pressed the knife harder into Shane's neck. "Am I hurting you?" he asked, suddenly all compassion and concern. It was falsified, though, as Shane now recognized. His eyebrows always arched sharply when he was deceiving her.

Far from calling him out on it, though, she merely shook her head from side to side - gingerly - and sighed, "Not anymore than I deserve."

A great, whooping gale of laughter ensued, with The Joker slapping his knees and wiping away invisible tears from his powder-stained face. The knife, still holding a menacing presence against her skin, wobbled discouragingly as he cackled and guffawed.

"Ah!" she gasped, unable to hold back the whimper of pain that escaped her lips.

The Joker stopped abruptly, leaning away from her as he gripped the knife more firmly. A dribble of blood shivered on the blade. "You know what you have to learn?" he asked, his eyes darting around the campsite. "You need to learn ... how to - to take all that pain. That I'm causing you. And turn it back on itself."

Shane listened silently, trying not to blink.

The Joker continued with an air of hysteria hovering about him. "You see, Shane, I'm not an abuser," He licked his lips. "I'm just ... an enforcer. I have to show you all the little ... pains of the world, in real, living color. I can't let you wander around with the delusion that pain only comes to those who deserve it. Pain comes to everybody, and I'm just helping you ..." He shook her lightly by the shoulder. "... to really know what pain is like. Slowly. Effectively. You may not thank me later, but you certainly won't run away when you're confronted with a knife, will you?"

The strange glint in his eye told her he wanted an answer. "Well, I'll definitely know what to expect if I ever get stabbed ..." she shrugged, glancing at him apprehensively.

Another, shorter, burst of laughter. "That's my girl," he said.

Shane relaxed. The Joker had taken to saying this only when he felt Shane had really, really gotten the point of what he was saying. She heard it every morning, right before he lowered the knife and resumed ignoring her. She'd come to recognize it as a sign of quiet civility; and more relieving still, as a sign of safety. Whenever he was so pleased as to call her 'His girl,' he generally refrained from hitting her or yelling at her.

No amount of false companionship could fool her, now, though. She'd known all along that he was using her for some mysterious purpose, unknown to her, and that once she'd served her purpose he'd either kill her or abandon her. The simple fact that she was alive was all that kept her going now.

"So."

The word, uttered so quietly and deeply that Shane thought at first she'd been hearing things, nevertheless carried an air of authority that forced Shane's attention to shift immediately to the hunched and prominent figure of The Joker.

His eyes bored into hers, and she had to try hard not to look away. They sparkled mischievously at her, and he was methodically sucking on his lower lip.

"So," he repeated, his voice low and oily. "I had an ... idea today. And I know for a fact that you won't like it."

Not a good sign.

"Do you like ... " His hands swirled around each other uncertainly as he searched for the right word. "Venturous walking?"

"Are you planning a hiking trip?" she inquired, chancing sarcasm.

He made a face that looked like an, 'Oh, you,' sort of expression, and went on determinedly. "I was thinking ... we could make a little appearance for the public today. Let your relatives and friends know you're alive." He was grinning now, a grin that told her bad things were about to happen. "And, also, I'm bored. I'm not big on trees." he grimaced.

Shane, however, was not in a very good mood anymore. "What makes you think my friends or ... or relatives care if I'm alive or not?"

"Well, I know your Daddy does," he said slyly, looking up at her through innocent eyes.

"What?" she snapped, quite forgetting she was sitting inches from a notorious mass murderer and famed psychopath.

He beckoned her closer, and cupped a hand around her ear, whispering, "You still talk in your sleep. Your dreams have become much more interesting lately." He licked his lips again and, since he was in such close proximity to Shane, she felt an unpleasantly slick pressure on her ear when he did so. Se shivered involuntarily. The Joker went on, seemingly oblivious. "You're dreaming about your family. I hear you. Every night, now. Would you like to know what you say the most?"

She nodded curtly, her lips strangely tense, preventing them trembling.

"You say, 'I miss you too, Dad. I'll be home soon. I promise.'"

With caution thrown to the winds completely, Shane shoved The Joker away roughly and stormed off into the trees. Expecting some violent reprisal, she ran faster and faster, blindly swiping at branches and blinking hard through the relentless tears.