Hush (A Joker Story)

15: Dark Dreams

Black walls surrounded me, snuffing out the light of day and influencing my emotions to darken. 

I don’t remember these walls. I don’t remember how they got here.

I don’t even remember how I got here, either.

Laughter echoed from the wall to the left, I turn my head sharply towards it, trying to strain my eyes to see the person standing in the shadows.

I cannot see him.

I cannot see anything.

“Who’s there?” I try to ask, but nothing comes out of my mouth besides a deep growl. I close my mouth in confusion, but think nothing of my inability to speak.

I walk towards the darkness, crouched in defense, arms in front of me for protection, my heart is going crazy, though darkness does not usually scare me.

I am okay with not knowing what lies before me.

I take a deep breath, realizing it’s a longer walk than I expected.

“Hello?” I try to speak, but once again, it’s a growl, but this time, it hurts to even attempt to speak. I grip my throat and wince, confusion washes over me.

I cannot see. I cannot speak. I can only hear the laughter before me.

..............................

I wake up, gasping, looking around my room. The fact that my rooms are dark inflicts terror in my heart, I stumble to turn on the lamp next to my bed, and when light fills the room, I feel comfort once more.

Who was laughing in my dream? It was masculine.

It was Jack’s laugh.

Am I afraid of the dark? Am I afraid of Jack?

Where did these dreams come from?

Anger washes over me as the confusion lingers through these thoughts.

This time, I am angry at not knowing what lies before me. 

I get up and put on my shoes and mask, tying my hair in a bun and slipping on my jacket. I walk out of my room and go to the training room, where all the henchmen become strong.

Jack never makes anyone work out. His opinion is, if they don’t make an effort to get strong, they don’t deserve the job. The men also should know that not having enough strength or endurance could very well get them killed.

I never really work out, because I naturally have stamina, but this time, the idea that I am weak with not knowing makes me feel vulnerable.

Locking the door, I feel relief wash over me with the fact that I am alone in this room. I take off my jacket, and turn to the punching bag. I rip my mask off and throw it across the room, as if it holds an infectious disease and rip out my hair tie. It hurts, but I ignore the pain and throw it along with my mask.

My fist collides with the punching bag, and I feel my inferior state starting to slip away. I punch harder, harder, faster, faster, until I am out of breath and my knuckles are starting to crack, I check my hands for a moment after about fifteen minutes of punching, to see my skin starting to separate in little tiny cuts, blood starting to bead out. 

I wasn’t done yet. My anger, my ferocity internally was too much for my body’s exterior. I am just a person, a woman, a henchman.

That’s all I’ll ever be.

A henchman.

Anger courses through me along with adrenaline, a growl leaves my mouth, just like from my dream as I kick the punching bag, sending it flying through the air. It smacks the ceiling, and I stand there, stunned for a moment, stunned at my strength, the fact that my anger makes me capable to do things like this.

A knock at the door makes me shiver in surprise, I sigh, putting my jacket on, my hair in a bun, and my mask on.

I feel confined behind my lie.

I open the door and see Joker staring at me.

His eyes widened in surprise. “You were the one working out?”

I nod silently, feeling as if I spoke, only anger would come out.

He seemed to sense my anger, and grinned. “That’s good. Your anger makes you as strong as someone on Titan. Hm. . .” he was thinking intensely, then shakes his head. 

“What?” I ask, but it comes out a lot more bitter than I wanted it to. His dark eyes catch mine, and I feel inferior once again under his demanding gaze.

“I was considering having Bane lend me some Titan so I can inject you with it.”

The thought of having that steroid like transformation causes me to step back in shock.

He continues speaking, though, and his new sentence shocks me even more than his last sentence.

“But I could never put you through that.”

His lips are in a tight line, his scars make him look like he’s smiling though, giving him a ghastly appearance. 

I don’t know what to say.

He walks away, leaving me flustered.

What does he want from me?