My Psychotic Lover

Chapter 1: Live

A/n: Have fun reading guys! Please do vote if you like the part. :)

(Important Note: The book is edited from the first time it was written but it may still have gramatical errors and typos.)

Update: I became bored and went back to this book. I made revisions, changes a little, since I re-read the first chapter. I haven't decided to make a secondary re-edit yet, so you may see differences when you drift to the next chapters. (Talking about my writing style, lol)

But hopefully, I could. Anyways, I've been writing its second book so working on this one is hassle.

🍃

Breaking news: "Joker has escaped Arkham Asylum last night. You better be careful if you go outside or even in your homes, you better lock all the doors, and windows carefully; he might give you a bad joke."

I sneered as I turned the TV off.
Bad joke huh? Hearing his name is already a laughingstock.

Now that he was wandering the very streets of Gotham City, people would surely gonna dump the show. The gig should be started at six o'clock in the evening, but I bet no one's gonna go. I massaged my temples. Obtaining the news that the clown has escaped, I was afraid to hear people asking for refund; as if it's our fault.

The Joker was not the only criminal or murderer here. There were bunches of them, but the insane punk was the only one—to me— who would suddenly throw bomb in the crowd.

So yes. I thought it was enough to cease the folks' presence.

My phone suddenly vibrated and when I checked who was calling me, I read, Taylor York.

"Hello? Oh yes, I'm watching the news. I guess, we should cancel it."

"That's a brilliant idea Hayley," Taylor answered, "be careful."

Hanging up, I took my mug and sipped its content. The warm liquid flowed against my throat, and I felt my insides steamed up. Coffee was the best start up.

While I started gaining some calmness, my phone beeped again. This time it was a message.

From: Taylor York
Are you watching? If not, then turn the TV on.

I frowned, and when I turned the TV on, suddenly, a beautiful woman appeared.

"Okay, as you can see we are here to give you some footage. Turn the camera at him," she said. "The Joker is in there with a poor hostage. I bet he's an employee there."

I leaned closer, narrowing my eyes. Who's sane people would gonna drift there to catch some live horrific scene? For the heaven's sake, it was Joker!

I could only see his side, but the rictus grin across his chalk-face couldn't be ignored. The moron was live on television with a citizen on his grip—his forearm was clutched around his neck, together with a pointing gun.

"What the. . ." I cursed under my breath as my mouth fell open.

". . . we can barely shoot but I think we need to come a little closer," she continued.

This reporter is crazy. Paparazzi are always sick.

"Wait, Angela, we c—cannot move nearby the spot," said the man, "what if he caught us?"

She had an angelic name and face. But her dignity and loyalty to her job made her look so stupid. "Are you out of your mind?! We should do this! This is a big footage! It will increase our wage since it's Joker! So come on!"