Paper Planes

II

"The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order the continuous thread of revelation."
—Eudora Welty

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Ember's hands balled into fists at her sides, a strangled cry wracking through her body as the tears freely flowed.

She was too young to die. Thirty wasn't old enough . . . thirty years on this Earth wasn't enough time.

What felt like hours later, the lock on the door suddenly clicked, a plethora of emotions overcoming the woman as she sat up quickly, shuffling backwards until she met the harsh surface of the uneven wall, her legs wobbling with fear as an abundance of purple entered the room.

He was alone. No clown masked figures, no bald man with inexplicable strength. Just the Joker himself, clad with his usual purple attire, a fresh face of paint, and a sharp switchblade in his gloved clutch.

Ember cowered against the wall, inhumane sounds spilling from her as the clown forcefully shoved the door closed with the heel of his boot, his tongue toying with the profound scar on his right cheek.

"Ah-ta-ta!" He scolded, waving the open blade back and forth in the air as the woman tried to back herself further against the wall, but to no avail.

He slowly sunk to her level, his face mere inches from hers as he intently licked his lips. He could practically taste the fear radiating off of her, and boy, did it drive him absolutely wild.

"What's the matter, pumpkin?" He taunted, his gloved hand darting outward to capture her chin, pulling her face forward forcibly, ordering her to look him directly in the eye. She squeezed hers shut in response, the tears falling in thin sheets as she lay broken beneath him.

"I don't wanna die." She admitted through painful sobs.

The Joker clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, an amused hum emerging from him as he gently carressed her cheek, his fingers darting upwards to pry her closed eyes open.

"Look at me." He calmly ordered, his thumb resting against her cheek as his index finger sat firmly on her forehead. He slowly spread his fingers further apart, tugging her tear-drenched skin along with them as he slowly pried her eyelids open.

"I said," he began, his tone firm with a hint of annoyance. "LOOK. AT. ME!"

Ember squeaked in response, her eyes flying open as she truly took in his appearance. Although his eyebrows were covered by the darkness of his black greasepaint, the lines on his forehead indicated that he was furrowing them at her, his bottom lip pulled tightly between his stained teeth as he stared deeply into her eyes.

"So," he began, rising to his feet as he tore his hand from her face, a sense of relief temporarily flooding through her as he turned his back to her, rotating the blade between his fingers as he muttered incoherently under his breath. "How should I kill you, toots?"

"P-Please don't, Mister Joker—" Ember pitifully begged, only to screech suddenly when he stooped back down to her level in a fraction of a second, his left hand cupping the back of her skull as his right hand rest nicely against her cheek, the coolness of the blade tickling her lips as she convulsed beneath him.