How To Drown Harley Quinn (A Suicide Squad Novel)

Him or Her?

They were standing in their bedroom. He stared at her, eyes slanted. His green hair was a mess, as if he hadn't had time to slick it back that morning. He wasn't wearing a top, only black shorts. His tattoos looked so dark and evil over his pale skin. It was him. Her Puddin'. She hadn't seen him in so long. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to tell him how she thought of him everyday, how practically all of those braided memories were of him, but he looked mad. Yes, he got mad a lot, but this time he looked MAD.

"Who is she?" he asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Wha-what?" she managed to stutter out. She had no idea who he was talking about.

"I said, who is SHE?" he yelled, pointing at the bed. Harley looked and saw the toddler for the first time. She was tiny; perhaps she was even too young to be called a toddler. She was asleep, clutching a pink blanket and a hippo stuffed animal to her chest. She had her thumb stuck in her mouth, making her seem even tinier and more innocent. Harley had never seen her before in her life.

"I don't know." He took the child's face in his hand and stared at her. He looked at Harley, then back at the child. He pulled his hand away and the little girl's head fell back on the pillow. His face contorted with anger as he glared at Harley. She was scared. She had no idea who the little girl was. Not only that, but what about him? Did he not want her? Did he not miss her, not even notice she was gone? It was heartbreaking to even think about it when she had tried so hard.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" he screamed at her, his anger finally exploding. "I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T WANT KIDS! NOW LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH OF A FOOL THIS MAKES ME LOOK LIKE?" She was hers. That girl was her daughter. But. . . it didn't make sense.

He let out a scream, pulling on his hair. The little girl sat up, her thumb still in her mouth. She saw him and screamed herself. She scrambled under the covers, trying to find that safe spot that all children have while they're hiding under the sheets. He stared at Harley, breathing heavy. She didn't know what to do; she didn't know what to say. She still couldn't handle the fact that she had a child. She watched as he went to one of the dresser drawers and scrambled around the contents. He finally brought a jagged knife out, pointing at her. He stepped forward, still holding the knife out.

"Take it," he said in a calm voice, as if he had never been angry. "Take it and finish her." As much as she tried not to, she felt her hand reach out and slide the handle out of his hand and into hers. The very touch of his skin from being deprived of it for so long made her ache for more, but she couldn't think about that right then. She looked at the little girl, or at least the shaking lump that was the girl. No, it was her daughter. She carefully grabbed the top of the blanket and slowly pulled it down to reveal the panic-stricken girl. She looked up at Harley and she could see herself. She looked just like her.

"I can't do it," she said to him in defeat. She couldn't; she wouldn't. She watched him as he stepped towards her. He lifted his hand and placed it on her left cheek. He ran his thumb over her lips, and she had to resist the urge she had to grab at him, to regain everything they had lost.

"You can either have me," he said in that voice that made her melt, "or you can have her." She stared at him, mesmerized. A life of insanity with a man who didn't want kids or one with only a little girl to keep her company? She looked down at her again. She was so scared, her little hands clutching her hippo to her chest. She was so innocent and naive. Who could kill that? She looked back up at him. He smiled, revealing his metal capped teeth. He leaned in close and whispered into her ear.

"Choose."

She peered into his eyes, just inches away from hers.

She had to decide. Him or the girl. What she had or what she had always wanted. She took a deep breath.

Always appreciate what you have first.