Emmeline [Joker X OC]

Chapter One

A/N: Hello! Welcome to my new fanfiction! I have been wanting to get his story out with my own characters, but I think the Joker is perfect! (He makes his apperance in Chapter Two and the story really kicks in with him in Chp. 3, but PLEASE push through I promise it is worth it!) That being said, you don't have to really know the fandom well, since I'm only using the characters and no story line. I hope that you enjoy this new fanfiction (I have a lot of this already written, so I will be able to make consistant updates) and don't be a ghost reader! Your opinions, stars, and shares are greatly appreciated.

P.S. If you guys can make a better cover or description, that'd be great appreciated!

Enjoy!

I was exhausted. Running away from them created a powerless sensation in my body. The excessive amounts of adrenaline took a large toll on my strength and health. I wanted to slump onto a bed and sleep my fears away.

    But I couldn't. A bed would have to wait - even if my body argued with that fact. My stomach growled. I fell onto the river bank, dunking my hands into the murky brown water. As I sipped the water, I didn't care about the bacteria promising to enter my body. The river  tasted wonderful slipping down my aching throat.

    I laid down my head, the prickly green grass scratching my tanned neck. I didn't want to relax - I felt unsafe and vulnerable, but my mind thought otherwise. My eyes closed, and for the first time in two days, I fell asleep.

***

    Rough tweed rope bound my hands together. I tried pulling at them, hoping my strength would pull me free. I looked around the room. Instinctively, I realized I was located in a warehouse. Large cardboard boxes lined the steel gray walls, towering couple stories. Crates scattered randomly carried plastic bags filled with white power - what I assumed to be crack.

    The air was chilly, and I  felt the wind whipping my bare shoulders. I was barely dressed, wearing a ripped tank top and short pajama pants. Looking back at my hands, I noticed dried blood dripping. I drew my breath, my heart pounding.

    Where was I?

    My head ached, and as I looked back at my shoulders, I saw more blood dried along my neck. A tremor began in my hands, moving along the rest of my body.

    I couldn't remember anything. It was like just being born. My first sight of life - being trapped in a warehouse, fearing for my life. Although I didn't remember anything, my emotions were intensively present. My breaths continued to be deep and staggered, and tears ran down my cheeks.

    My mind races, trying to remember anything possible. Nothing revealed. My heart raced faster, and a panic attack threatened to begin.

    "Oh, Miss. Reine! I see you are up!" a voice whispered from behind me. I jumped, and a small whimper crept from my cut mouth. The man chuckled, putting his hands on my shoulders. I cried in pain as he tightly squeezed them, massaging the purple bruises.

    "What to do with you?" he asked, his hands moving to my neck. I stiffened, terrified. He let out another rough laugh, and I sensed how much he was enjoying this. I craved to see his face - to see whose rough hands touched me freely.

    "You can let me go." my voice sounded foreign. It was weak and fragile. I didn't recognize the voice I heard. It wasn't mine.

    The man squeezed my neck in anger and I choked, gasping for air.

    "Let you go? After what you did to my nephew?" he let go of my neck, smacking my head. I cried loudly in pain, and felt the trickle of blood sliding down my back.

    "What did I do?" the voice emitting from my body squeaked. The man suddenly moved from behind of me to face me. His tallness surprised me, as did his muscularity. His salt and pepper hair fell past his eyes, accompanied by a prickly beard. A long scar resided on his face, running through his mouth. His green eyes stared at me with such anger and cruelty. He was ready to kill.

    "What did you do?" he mocked me, his giant body trembling from anger. He raised his hand and slapped me, making blood seep from my mouth. I whimpered, and he struck me again.

    "You stupid bitch! What did you do?" he roared, retrieving a small knife from his pocket. I felt my heart thumping against my chest, and my head got light and dizzy. The man placed the knife against my throat and  nicked my neck

    "The only revenge for a murder is murder. But I'm going to make yours slow and painful." he laughed, putting more power into the knife. I pulled my neck as far back as I could, but my relentless shaking caused the knife to create more cuts in my neck.

    A gun shot exploded, echoing along the metal walls. The man in front of me fell backwards, dropping his knife onto the floor. I looked at him, and saw a wound lodged between his dead eyes. I screamed, but a hand clasped on my mouth. I bit the flesh, and another man cried in pain.

    "Em! Stop!" he yelled, and picked up the fallen knife. Sweat drizzled down my forehead, along with blood. I spat at the man.

    He had a more scrawny figure than the dead man on the floor. His features were more boyish, and his brown eyes held a kindness and fear that slightly comforting me. On his right arm was a tattoo of a name, but it hid beneath his red t-shirt.

    The man stood up, knife in hand, and I closed my eyes, ready to be hurt again.

    I felt the rope on my arms being cut and soon I was freed from the wooden chair. I stood up and kicked the man in his shin. He stuttered backwards, surprised by my reaction. However, he regained himself quickly, and pushed me against the wall, holding my wrists back.

    "I'm trying to help you." he whispered, as I tried to squirm out of his grasp.

    "Who are you? Who is that?" I cried, tears pouring down my face and stinging my cuts. My head was clouded, trying to process everything that happened.

    "What do you mean?" he asked, confusion in his chocolate eyes. I cried out as he refused to let me go.

    "What is going on?"

    I  heard footsteps running from upstairs. The man also did, as his body stiffened. He let me go and ran to a small table. He picked up a purse, dug into his pockets and came back to me, holding out the purse, two bus tickets and some money.

    "Here. Run. Go. First stop is to Hampton, and the second is to Gotham. In Gotham, try to contact with Olivia Glossin. My sister will help you. Bus station is straight down the street. Go to it now and find the bus. It leaves in 7 minutes." he shoved the objects into my hands, and ran up the stairs, leaving me alone. It took me a few seconds to realize my only way out was to run down the stairs.

    I slung the purse onto my shoulders, and began sprinting down the stairs. Reaching giant metal doors, I pushed them open. Inside, I heard a few gunshots, and then silence. I knew the man was dead.

    Running faster than I have ever ran, I reached the bus stop right before the bus left. The driver looked at me with fear plastered on my face, but I didn't care. I shoved a ticket into his hand and sat down.

    My entire body shook as the bus pulled out into the street. The tears, however, had dried up on my face, and my bleeding had also stopped. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who I was.

    But I did know, I was running for my life and I was terrified.