Asylum Romance (A Joker Story [Sequel to Turquoise punchline])

24: The End

They threw me into my Asylum home, the home away from home and watched me with troubled eyes.

“Stay there, Joker. You need to calm down. Guards, make sure you guys really watch him.” A woman with a tight black bun and sharp, hazel eyes spoke, watching me curiously. She wrote things down on her clipboard, then glanced at the three guards that stood around her.

“What for,” I laughed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“We might have to use our last resort, ma’am,” one of them spoke. He face softened.

“If you do so, inform me afterwards and tell me the results,” she spoke, then nodded. “Good day.” she left as if this was the most casual issue that’s ever happened here in Arkham.

I could still remember the first day I met that blue haired minx.

. . .She was thrown into another cell, my cell. I don’t think she was used to this. She was thrown onto the ground, staring at the floor blankly as the woman named Bertha took off the young girl’s straight jacket. Once it was off, she fell to the side and flipped so she was laying on her back, arms lazily placed and legs sprawled on the floor as if she was a shark attack victim who just called quits. 

Her beautiful blue hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her sharp, wide grey eyes made me stop and watch in curiosity at this beautiful woman. I had never seen someone more beautiful in my life.

Bertha left, and blue haired girl kept in her position, she seemed to do this often. It was as if she was a doll that wasn’t even real. Her perfect skin, features, hair, eyes, seemed to be false, she was just so pretty that I could not comprehend what she was for a moment.

“Well look what we have here?” I spoke and let out a chuckle, her eyes were open from when she had started her little act. “They actually gave me someone to talk to. I wonder what you did that pissed them off that much.” my crackly voice snickered, she got up and got on her hands and knees, peering up at me, the person who owned the signature cackle.

Her eyes widened when she saw who I was, the man who never stopped putting Gotham City in peril. Her eyes danced curiously around me.

“And why are you making that face, doll?” I questioned, amused.

She tilted her head to the side in fascination. “You were put in here last night. Why do you keep coming back?” she questioned, then sat cross-legged in front of me. I was shocked at this point. She was acting so casual in front of me, the serial killer. She was fearless.

I had never met her before. I was confused how she had the ability to treat me like an old friend. 

“Why are you in here?” I questioned curiously, my eyes slightly closing, watching her. My head tilted forward. I rested my chin on my closed fist.

“They think I’m crazy, duh!” she giggled cutely at my question, then turned quickly so she was looking at the corner of the wall. 

“But I’m not. I’m just not stupid, society tries to wrap us up into a little cocoon of what they defy as “sane”! But they don’t know what sane is, hell everyone is crazy in their own little way! I just haven’t been corrupted. What makes most of us sane people crazy in this Asylum is the medication they cram down our throats. I’ll tell ya, I’ve been seeing a whole lotta abnormal things since they started forcing me to swallow these pills!”