Maniaphobia//Joker Fanfiction//FINISHED💚

Bloodbath

As we pass by the cells, people start to wake up. Most of them are tied down to their beds by multiple body parts. Hands, feet, waists, chest, neck and forehead. Do they actually expect people who are so tied down to hurt either others or themselves? Passing by one cell Gregory holds me back, "do you see her?" He points at a black haired woman, not tied down, her hands fold together on the edge of her "bed". She seems to be mumbling a prayer, and I know that someone showing their devotion to God, especially in a hell hole like this, is something not to interrupt. I might not be the best person, but religion is something you need to show respect to. People so on God' side have a weak spot with me.

But Gregory doesn't. And he starts to scratch his nails over the iron bars, causing a horrifying screeching. And the woman looks up furious, with such desperation and fearlessness in her eyes that even I step back. She stares into the weak side of me, and I don't like it..at all. Yet when she notices Gregory at my side her attitude changes. And like a wounded dog she crawls into the corner of her room, grabbing her thin blanket and covering her face with it.

"No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Not yet. It's not time for my pills yet. No. No. No."

"Continue walking Mara", Gregory pushes me further into the hall. And by the impression the woman has made on me I don't even correct Gregory for saying my name. I just walk, head up but something in me down. This place is already getting the best of me.

Only a few meters further into the hallway Gregory stops again. The cell door is opened, and I know it will be mine for the time to come. Without even needing him to tell me to get in, I peacefully step inside, Gregory comments with a smirking: "good girl." And takes his keys to lock me in officially. Like a little trapped mouse. That's how he looks at me, like I'm a little trapped mouse in his cage. In some way his grin tells me to run in my wheel, and the feeling of vulnerability that the Joker taught me to let go off, is now coming back up. And it's creating a sour taste in my mouth and throat.

Gregory checks the door one more after turning around the key. It's closed well, but he keeps standing right where he is. Just looking at me. Despite my deep hatred for him, and the history we've already built together, I need to give it to him that he's hot.

"You could've end up differently Mara. It ended up better for your parents, but you were too rebellious to just have stayed in the car. To just wait for that one second of pain, and eternal peace that comes with it. Instead, you're here. With me. Will you still be rebellious after a night in here?"

The words come from a handsome guy. A mouth with perfect teeth and an intense 'sweep you off your feet' voice.

But the words are ice cold and stone hard in one. And it's like a hit in my face with a stone, before he walks off.

Leaving me in my empty square. Only one wall is bars, and it gives me view over the cell in front of me. There is a man, I guess sleeping, with his back faced to me on his bed. My bed feels just like the mattress I slept on in the empty building for a week. There are feathers in my ass when I lay down, and in some way it's like I'm home. I haven't thought of him for a while now. And when I realises that, the vulnerability I just felt a second go fades like snow in the sun. Soon and I will be with him again.

I rest my hands on my stomach, and feel my own breathing becoming slower as sleep gets to me. He is somewhere in the same building as me. So close to him.

Before I can even dream away, my cell doors are thrown open so fiercely that I sit up immediately. It's a doctor, but not Gregory. That's for sure. There is nothing handsome about the monster that is now stepping into my cubicle. A scar walking from his left eyebrow over his nose, to the middle of his right cheek. No facial hair at all. Wearing the typical white doctor coat, with black jeans and mountain climbing shoes underneath. You can see that he's extremely muscled, and the cloth around his arms looks like it may tear open at any time.

He fills up so much of my cell space that I can barely look at the hallway anymore. But what I see isn't okay. From the direction baldie came is a blood trail on the floor. Drips of red on stone, probably not out washable. And I can quickly spot where the blood is coming from when he starts to take off something from his hands. A black cloth, but with what seems like nails glued onto it. I can't say with certainty because they are dark red coloured, blood, clearly. And the iron smell is already floating up my nostrils.

"You. You new. You clean mess." There is an accent in Baldie's voice. Russian? I can't place it, but it fits to the way his body is build. Masculine and deep. Definitely not an American.

His thick thumb points at the trail behind him. And my instinct tells me to get my ass off the bed and listen to the monster commanding me. He steps aside and I step outside the cell. Right into a splash of blood that sticks underneath my shoe. I look back at Baldie and he nods his head to the left, where the blood leads to.

When I see the origin of the blood, I don't feel vulnerable. I don't gag. I don't cry like a little bitch. I don't run or scream or throw up over the floor. I realise that I'm the lesser evil in a pit of human looking devils. And something within, the part that always aches for the blood and the mess behind it, smiles. So I pinch myself, and push that urge back under.

The blood comes from a woman, sobbing on her cell floor. It's pouring out of little holes in her legs. There is so much coming at once that it looks almost black. I go down on my knees, and the woman shivers back, afraid that I'll hurt her by maybe touching the wounds. I raise my hands in some sort of peace offer, and she nods. The sweat pouring down her head almost in the same amounts as the blood. I take off my shirt, and know what to do by the lessons my mom gave me when I was little.

Put pressure on the wounds, so the blood can't stream any longer.

I hear her voice almost in my head. And I tie the sweater sleeves together around her leg. It's good that it's a sweater and not a shirt, it has more strength and layers to hold back the blood.

"Thank you", the woman stumbles over her words, on the edge of losing consciousness. I stand back up and take her arms, lifting her on her bed. When I bring up her legs too she screams in pain and faints. That's okay. Now I can at least do it without her screaming. I cover her with her blanket, like she's a kid with a fever. And leaving her now red floored coloured room I feel nothing.

Nothing. No hunger for more of the red fluid on my hands. No pride of me probably just having saved her ass, or leg. Nothing. I just blankly get back into my cell, following the red shoe steps I have left from the splash in front of my cell. Baldie is gone and I'm glad. The asshole made a mess and put the cleaning duty on me? When me and Jokey get out of here, he'll be the first to have some dynamite in his pocket.

And if it's on me. I hope that moments is close.