Scarred (Joker X Reader)

Chapter 13

You panicked and dropped the pistol, thinking you’d killed her. You didn’t notice your dress lift up slightly.
  “I didn’t mean to-!” You stopped and gaped at the sudden pain setting your back on fire. Your eyes teared up as you looked at the Joker who seemed to be rushing toward you in slow motion. You looked down and saw Deadshot’s arm wrapped around you, and the pocket knife you’d taken was implanted in your back. Your hands felt around, covering themselves in your warm blood. Deadshot released you and you fell to the ground, Joker catching you before you hit. Deadshot went to Harley, tending to her wounds. You put a hand on Joker’s cheek, assuring him that it was alright, that it would be okay. Blood smeared across his cheek and jaw. You were friends, and he didn’t need to be afraid of losing you. He started to cry as he picked you and ran back to the car. You were terrified, scared of dying alone. You passed out before he climbed inside.

  When you woke up you gasped loudly, looking around. You were in a grey room with machines attached to you, Gotham General hospital. No one was there. Fear gripped you as you tried to call out for Joker, but you couldn't. You started rejecting the tube in your mouth, trying to breathe. A nurse came in and removed the tube, allowing you to breathe easy. You started to cry, what was going on? The door opened again and Beth walked in, thanking the nurse before showing her out.
  “B-Beth? What’s going on?” You asked shakily, wiping your eyes. You were so happy to see her.
  “You were stabbed, honey… It’s alright, I promise.” She leaned over the bed to give you a hug.
  “Please don't leave me alone…” You pleaded. Beth pulled away from the hug, her face sympathetic. She hated to see your emotional state deteriorate so fast.
  “The boss has been mighty worried about you.” Beth said softly.
  “Where is he?” You asked, trying to climb out of bed.
  “He decided it's best… That you go home.” Beth said, moving closer. You shook your head as she kept you in bed.
  “I don't want to leave!” You whimpered.
  “Yes, you do… You're suffering from severe Stockholm Syndrome.. You wanting to stay here with us is just a reflection of that.” Beth explained. You knew Stockholm Syndrome. It was the fear of separation from a kidnapper or assailant after prolonged exposure to torture and psychological trauma. It didn't matter to you, because you still didn't want to leave.
  “Please..” Was all you uttered. Beth pet your hair.
  “Bye, honey…” She injected something into your IV, holding down your arm.
  “Please! Please!... Please…. P..” Within seconds you were unconscious.