Chemical Chaos (A Joker Story [Sequel to "Don't Get Even...Get Mad"])

18: The Fear

After robbing the bank with my father, him and I were able to relax on the top of our house, looking up at the sky after changing into normal clothes and wiping off all the war paint. “Did I do well?” I questioned. 

“Kaleb, you were great, but next time don’t be so cocky.”

I smirked. “How could I not be, I’m the son of two of the most infamous criminals to ever exist.”

He rolled his eyes jokingly, then took a sip of his Coke. “Your mother will kill me later,”

“Why?”

“Because,” he turned to me. “You are our child. We don’t like putting you in those situations, you have college to attend, a life away from ours.”

“But this is the only way we really bond!” he groaned.

“Son, robbing a bank is the only job I allowed you to chip in on because the jobs I have in my list are too terrible for you to do. I should have made you do one, to scare you from doing this shit.”

“Like?” I questioned, frowning. 

He hesitated. “Blowing up offices, hospitals, watching all those scared kids looking for their parents.”

I froze, and look down. “Why do you and mom still do this?”

“It’s a curse, now. We can’t just stop. We have to always be on the move.”

“We live in a house that doesn’t have any escape routes out.” I pointed out.

“Don’t be stupid. We have five of them. We’ll relocate if they ever come here. We’re fully prepared for anything,” he took another sip. “Besides, if they do catch us, we can pretend you are our hostages, you guys can escape and reunite back with us. It’s simple, really.”

Simple? “Sounds complicated.”

“To you, yeah.” he got up and dusted himself off. “Go to bed, you have school tomorrow.”

I frowned. “Can’t I skip it?”

“No. And don’t tell your friends about what you did.”

Tell my friends? Yeah right. They had no business in knowing. I got up and stretched, groaning when my sore muscles practically screamed at me to stop what I was doing. 

“Dad, aren’t you sore?” I questioned, he grinned at me.

“Hell no.” 

I laughed, walking back into the house with him. My mother walked up to me and looked at me in the eye, then smiled. “You’re okay. Good.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve never done a real job before,” she spoke, then crossed her arms, smirking. “I remember my first bank robbery. Successful, of course.”

She grinned at my father, who grinned back at her. I twisted my face in disgust. “You guys are gross.” was my last reply before heading off to my room. I could hear them chuckling in response, I shook my head and laughed softly as well. 

“You are scared.” 

I stopped at turned to Skye, who was in the door frame of her room, which I had just passed by. She was in her pajamas, her hair a mess. She had woken up.

“But why are you scared?” her eyes were confused.

I smiled nervously. “I’m okay, really,” I walked over and picked her up. “Go back to bed.” I turned on the light and lay her back in her bed.

“But you’re scared, which makes me scared. No one in this house is ever scared.” her eyes showed a deep concern, a deep understanding of my emotions, but not a clue of why they were the way they were.

“It’ll be okay. . . .”

“Something is going to happen. You are going to do something that mommy and daddy will not appreciate. You are going to do something bad.” she said suddenly. “That is why you are scared.”

I stopped in my tracks, but shook my head wearily. “Don’t say that. It will be okay. . . “ I whispered silently as I walked off. 

It would be okay. . . . .Hopefully.