When Jerome Meets Harley

Chapter 11.

I woke up, groggy and very much confused. I opened my eyes only to see a familiar scene before me. I filled with dread. I was back home. But how? Why? I felt the familiar feel of the satin sheets beneath my fingertips, saw the familiar mirror with lipstick stains all over it and then saw my messy appearance staring back at me. I also noticed my mallet sitting on the window sill.

I looked around my room for any clue as to who could have dropped me off and discovered a note that read ''Decide.'' And that was all. No clue as to who could've possibly left it.

Great. That's just great. Mysterious note, mysterious situation.

I hesitantly open my bedroom door, not ready to face my parents if they were here.

And as luck would have it, they were here. Of course. Just my luck, not.

I make my way down the stairs, deciding it was now or never. I can't cower from them in fear forever.

As soon as the last step creaks, it causes them to look up at me. My father glares and my mother looks indifferent.

''Where in the hell have you been? Your mother has been worried sick!'' He screams in my face, spit spewing out of his chapped lips.

I peak behind him at her. ''She looks fine to me.'' I said with a smirk. I folded my arms over my chest.

This causes even more anger to radiate off him. I can feel it. So can my mother.

He removes his belt from around his waist. ''That's it, Harleen. I'm done with the disrespect.''

''John...'' I hear my mother begin with a weary voice.

''Shut up, Elizabeth.'' He sneers, coming closer.

What do I do?! I can't just take it. I won't. I refuse. I look around for anything that would suffice as a weapon. Anything. And then it catches my eye. My wooden baseball bat. How did it end up back here? I know I took it with me when I left.

To late to ponder on that thought, I had to act fast. I ran to the corner and grabbed my bat, it caused my father to laugh. ''you think you're gonna hurt me? Try it, Harleen. I dare you.'' He threatens, thinking I will get scared and back down like usual. But not this time.

I simply twirl the bat around. ''I'm not gonna hurt you.'' I promised, fake sincerity slipping out my high voice. ''I'm gonna kill you.'' I said, smirking.

Fear flashes in his eyes and my mother shrieks as I wail on him. Again and again. I laugh manically as I bash his brains in repeatedly. My mother continues screaming and crying and begging me to stop. I don't. Years of abuse flash through my mind, over and over. It's over. It's finally over. I sigh and blow the hair out of my face. I hold the bat over my shoulder.

I turn to face my mother. I know at this point I look crazy. My hair is sticking up out of my pigtails, smile wide as can be on my mouth, my eyes glossy, and scariest of all, is my fathers sticky blood splattered all over me.

''Harleen, don't do this. I'm your mother.'' She begs.

''And he was my father and I had no problem offing him.'' I reminded her.

Her eyes widen. I walked closer, she stepped back. I rolled my eyes. ''I'm not gonna touch ya, ma. I'm leaving.'' I said. I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. ''Goodbye.'' I said, brushing away the tears that were rapidly racing down her face.

''I already called the cops, Harleen. You won't get away with this.'' She said.

I chuckled as I turned around to face the door. ''Oh but, I will.'' I said.

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I made my way through the dark alleyways. I had my bat swung over my shoulder, skipping through the streets happily. I've never felt more alive.

Then I heard the loud wail of a siren. Damn it. How am I gonna get out of this?

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*Harley's Mom P.O.V* (during the murder and after)

I watched as my daughter or the shell of my daughter wailed on her father with the baseball bat he bought her as a young girl.

I cried, screamed, begged for to stop. When she didn't and when the intial shock wore off, I grabbed my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and silently called the cops. She was so caught up in the act and her laughter, she never even noticed.

''911, whats your emergency?'' The dispatcher questioned.

''My daughter is murdering my husband.'' I said.

''Cops and an ambulance are headed your way.''

''No need for the ambulance.'' I said in a monotune and hung up the phone.

After about a minute later, she stopped. Then she sighed and turned around to face me. Her blonde pigtails were everywhere, her smile wider then the Cheshire cats, eyes deranged, and the blood of my husband-her father-all over her.

''Harleen, don't do this. I'm your mother.'' I try to reason with her. What happened to my blue eyed, blonde princess?

She scoffed. ''And he was my father and I had no problem offing him.'' She reminds me. My eyes widen, she steps forward and I step back. She rolls her eyes.

''I'm not gonna touch ya, ma. I'm leaving.'' Her thick Brooklyn accent leaking through her high voice. She lent forward and kissed me on the cheek. I let her. ''Goodbye.'' She whispered, her voice full of a foreign emotion. She took her right hand and brushed the tears off my face. I leaned into her hand subconsciously.

I wanted to scream and tell her to get away from me, she's a monster. But then another part of me wanted to hug her tight and tell her I still love her. But I couldn't do either of those things, instead I said ''I already called the cops, Harleen. You won't get away with this.'' I warned.

She simply chuckled darkly and turned to face the door. ''Oh but, I will.'' She promised and blew me a kiss as she left.

---

About 2 minutes later, the police arrived. Two men entered my home and asked me questions. While two others examined the body.

''Hello Mrs. Quinzel. I'm detective Gordan and this my partner Bullock.'' He introduces.

''Hello,'' I whisper. Still staring at my husband's lifeless body.

''So, you told the dispatcher your daughter did this?'' Bullock questioned.

I snapped out of my trance. ''Uh yes, my youngest daughter, Harleen. She's 17.''

A look of familiarity passed through both of their faces. ''Does she by chance have a nickname?'' Gordan asked.

''Why is that relevant?'' I asked.

''Humor me, please.'' He says.

''Um, sometimes she likes to by Harley.'' I said. ''We never call her that, but her friends do. Her sister does.'' I explained.

''Excuse us for a second.'' Gordan says.

----

*Gordan's P.O.V*

''Do you think that's the same Harley we met at Wayne manor?'' Bullock asked.

''Wait a second and we'll find out.'' Gordan said. He turned his attention back to the grieving woman.

''Mrs. Quinzel, can you give me a description of Harleen's appearance?'' He asked.

''Um yes, she has blonde hair. Almost always in pigtails. She dyed the end of them blue and pink. Blue on the left, pink on the right. Blue eyed, about 5'6. 130 pounds. Loves to wear red.'' She says, tearing up at the thought of her daughter.

Gordan nods and turns his attention back to Bullock. ''That's definitely her.'' He says, remembering the blonde pigtailed childlike girl at Wayne manor.

Bullock shakes his head. ''Kids today and their murder.''