Joker's Janitor (FANFICTION)

II

She had to bite her cheek, a metallic taste covering her tongue.

'After five years of cleaning this hell hole; scrubbing, bleaching, waxing, disinfecting. I've emptied every bin, restocked every shelf, sorted every cupboard. I even paint the bathroom when I can't remove the graffiti that appears. Yet not once has anyone noticed or appreciated it. Every time I come in during the day, no one says anything about the mirrored floors, or the vanilla scent found in every inch of the place. No, they just compliment the dipsy waitresses and overrated chefs,' Margaret thought to herself.

"How am I supposed to wash the floors, or the kitchen, or the tables? And what about the bathroom?" She asked.
'Is this man mad?' She thought.

"Surely you can work around a few customers. You don't have that much to do anyway. Just wipe everything down, what's the big deal?"
She couldn't believe this, 'wipe everything down?'

"What? I spend about six hours a night making sure this place looks at its best, and all you think I do is 'wipe everything down?' What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Her breathing was quick and harsh, skin burning, heart racing, blood like acid. She hadn't said that last part out loud, had she?

"You are being ridiculous! Go home, come back when you are able to act appropriately and more like an adult." He began using his phone, she noticed he was playing angry birds.

"I'll show you appropriately acting like an adult!" She shouted, before grabbing his phone and throwing it through the window. Pushing him over his desk, she grabbed the stapler and stapled some paperwork to his forehead with a hard 'whack'. He was dazed and grunting in pain.
She kicked him in the groin, and as he huddled over, she pulled down a bookshelf, leaving it to trap him, the desk his only saviour.
She walked out, locking the door behind her.

Whilst exiting the diner, she felt something tugging at the back of her mind, something she had tried to cover, a whisper she had tried to muffle.

'You did well' the voice said.

"He shouldn't have said that!"

'No, he should not, but you taught him a lesson.'

"'They' didn't learn 'their' lesson, 'they' lied. 'They' didn't understand, but now 'they' do."

'Exactly. Now you are beginning to understand.'

"Yes, I am. It looks like I have the night off."

'Yes, we do.'

Strangers passed, not even glancing in her direction. Her ears numb with the music blaring from her earphones.

As Margaret walked past a flower shop, she stopped, eyes caught by a trampled rose on the ground. Her heart thumped against her chest at the similarity between her and the flower.

So damaged that no one would want it. The thorns seemingly harmless beneath a shoed foot, yet to improperly hold it would cause pain.
So fragile, yet no one thinks twice before trampling it.

She picked it up by the thorns, feeling the points slide into her skin. She did not wince, but rather smiled.

'The pain is part of your beauty'. She thought to herself.

Someone pulled her left earphone out gently. "I said, why would ya touch somethin so disfigured?"

She turned to look at the culprate. A young man, in his mid twenties, with short brown hair, half slicked with gel. He wore tight jeans and a rock and roll t-shirt.

"I'll buy ya a whole buncha' camelias, they're much better. Those things are stupid. You're too pretty for that."

Her blood was boiling by now.
'First, he had the audacity to remove my earphone. Now he insults me, assuming I am 'stupid', that I am some whore for his pleasing, using cheap words!'

'He must be taught a lesson. Shall we educate him on the consequences of his actions?'

"I believe that would be a great idea."

The man's eyes lit up before he noticed her fist headed straight for him. Hitting his nose with a 'crack' and sending him into the florist's window. He was dazed, laying in a spatter of blood and glass as fresh roses pierced his skin from beneath. Watching him with a mad grin, she finished the job by inserting the damaged rose down his throat.

"You are right, it was not fitting for me, but it definately suits you." She laughed loudly, replacing her earphone as she walked away.

People stared in disbelief at what had happened, none confident enough to stop her, only to help the man choking on the flower and his own blood.

"I'm hungry, are you?" She questioned out loud to herself.

'Famished, let us hurry home, I believe we have had enough excitement for today.'

She lived on a quiet street in the suburbs, evergreens along the nature strips, each house barely distinguishable from the last. Every lawn was neatly presented, complimenting the two story sand lime brick houses.

As she walked along the street, Margaret could see people in the windows, curtains drawn to show off their many possession, clean rooms, and how normal they were. When a couple fought, they would first draw the curtains, she noticed three houses like this.
Unlike all the others, her parents house always had the curtains drawn, only slivers of light from the edges were visible.