The Joker Made Me Do It

Chapter two

"Wakey Wakey." I heard a familiar voice as my eyes began to open. I moaned as my head snapped up to see darkness. Only darkness.

"Who...who are ya-you?" My words stuttered as I remembered the scenario I was in.

A laugh pierced through the darkness. I knew exactly who he was. That laugh could be recognized from everywhere. It was all over the news all the time. The Joker robs this, shoots that, kills people here, there, and everywhere. I knew I was next. The panic started to take over me as I struggled, only to feel the handcuffs hold me up. I was sitting on a bed with my arms above me, handcuffed to the headboard.

'Oh Claire, why did you choose to go here!?? You could have chose any school? WHY THE FUCK DID YOU CHOOSE GOTHAM?' My mind raced as I tried to free myself. But the metal dug into my wrists more and more as I wiggled around. I yelped when blood began to flow slightly from my wrists. I stopped moving. It wouldn't budge. I wasn't going to escape.

"What do you want?" I cried out. "Why me? What did I do?" I began to cry. Then I became hysterical and screamed at the top of my lungs. "Somebody help me! HELP ME! Someone help!" The Joker just laughed.

"It's no use, my dead." His face came close to mine, I could feel his breath on the tip of my nose. "Oh, did I say dead? I meant dear!" Then he laughed and laughed. His high pictured laughter rang in my ears and made my heart race and flutter with horror. I started to sweat, the cold drops rolling down my forehead and underarms.

I panted as I sobbed. "You're going to kill me?" My voice cracked as I spoke.

"Not yet, my dear. You just wait and see." The laughter began again. "Oh boys!" He sang out the 'boys' for a few seconds before lights switched on and three men entered the rooms. Only two carried a weapon: a bat and a whip. The third had nothing, but they all wore clown masks. I screeched and screamed louder like bloody murder.

"Somebody help me!!! HELP ME NOW!" But I knew no one was coming. The only people coming were the clowns.

The Joker's voice dropped to a deep growl as he said "have fun" and left laughing louder than before.

I began to struggle frantically while crying and screaming, 'I have to get free. I have to get free!' My legs were kicking all over the place, knocking a blanket of the bed. I realized I had no idea where I was. I looked around as yelled for help. It was... A bedroom. A little girls bedroom? There were pictures of kittens and puppies hung on the hot pink walls. The dresser had flower handles and the rug was polka dotted with white, pink, and brown spots. 'What the hell?' I noticed a mirror someways in front of me.

For the first time I saw what I was wearing. I was wearing a dress. It was light blue and went down to my knees. There were sequins and rhinestones all of the top half and a big blue ribbon around my waist with a bow to the side. The sleeves were capped with lace along the edges. My shoes were white with frilly white socks. My flaming red hair was in pigtails set high up ontology of my head with blue bows on each one. Then I noticed my face.

Oh god my face. The dark eyeliner stood out dramatically on my top eyelids and the eyeshadow was a bright blue color to match my dress. My face was pale with ruby red lips, but the lipstick stretched out to each cheek like an exaggerated smile. It looked just like the Joker. This made me shriek even more. I was doomed.

'What is he going to do to me? What do I do? Where the hell is batman? Doesn't he usually save people?' But I knew in my mind that batman wouldn't find me until the Joker made me a public example by stringing me up on a rope by my neck high on the top of a building, just as he did with all the others he grabbed.

My arms swung back and forth to try and free myself, but the handcuffs sunk into my skin even more, making my wrists raw and scarlet with blood.

The clowns closed in on my, grabbing hold of my kicking legs and twisting them in ways I didn't even know were possible. I heard a sickening snap, but I didn't feel anything. I looked down at my legs; one of them was facing a way a leg should never face, the bone sticking out to the side. The pain would hit me later, but I prayed to god that if I was going to be tortured, I wouldn't feel the pain later. I wished for death to come quickly and mercifully.

I didn't both to struggle anymore. They'd probably just break more bones if i tried. And I knew I wasn't going to be saved, not by batman or anyone.