There's A New Joker in Town

Free from Confines

Chapter 1

The walls blurred. Faces danced and laughed before my eyes. The lights twinkled in and out of existence. A zany laugh escaped the confines of my dry, deprived lips. I was going hysterical and I knew it. I wanted it. It was the only thing that would keep the pain away. That, or death. I didn't want to die by my own hand though; I wanted to die by someone else's. Murder. It'd be so much easier. So much more...glorious. I chuckled and tucked my head into the crevice of my folded arms bound together by the tight white straight jacket holding me firm and useless and sang the song my mother would sing to me after tucking me into bed.  

If only, if only 

The woodpecker sighs 

The bark on the tree was as soft as the sky 

The wolf waits below, hungry and lonely 

He cries to the moon 

If only, if only 

I began to sob hysterically and buried my head even deeper into the cold fabric I wore. The buzzing sound of silence that once filled my ears was blocked out. All of my senses were gone. I had no one. I had nothing. Life was pointless. I wish it were over, but I won't do it by my hand. It's too messy, too wrong. Too hard. Rough hands grabbed me and hauled me up. Where did these people come from? Why are they here? I never saw them come in. Never heard them.

The hands pushed me out of the dim, empty room I'd been held captive in and into a bright, spacious room. "Let's go, Deliah. You're bein' moved," a voice said. I whipped my head around widly, searching for the strange voice, but saw nothing. Nothing but bright lights. "Who are you?" I slurred. "You're bein' moved. Come on, go!" I stumbled along as the rough hands began to push me even harder. The floor began to melt into itself. The feeling of falling overwhelmed me. I tripped over my feet and fell onto the floor. Aching pains spread throughout my midsection. I'd been kicked in the stomach.

"Get up!" the voice commanded. "Get up, I said!" My arms were bound; I had no way to hoist myself up. My body was so weak and the jacket so heavy, I couldn't just lift myself with my weight. I could only wait. Wait for someone to pity me enough to help me up. "Stop that, you're going to hurt the poor thing." Elderly. Fragile hands, not rough this time, hoisted me up. Grateful. Thank you. "This way, dear. Don't worry, we'll get you all fixed up. See ya, Larry. "

They led me into a place where cool air blew all over my body and the floor was solid and concrete. Outside. I heard a clicking sound and was placed into a plush seat. I fought to undo the straps on the straight jacket. "Oh no, dear. We don't want you to take those off. That'd be very bad." Afraid. You don't really care. I hope you die. Die; die like I wish I could. Die, and leave me alone.

**6 years later**

I wore no straight jacket. My mind was eased, no longer fogged with the depressing memories of my former life and what I once was. For once in my life, I was a free woman. What they didn't know though, was that I was still mentally deranged. I'd learned how to fool their simpleton minds. It was easy; just be a good girl and they'd let me free. It worked and as long as I stayed the way I was, they'd never find out how easy they were to trick. So easy. So easy.

I smiled and waved at the clerk at the Psychiatric Department counter. Inane fools. They couldn't even tell how fake my smile was. The buzzer on the door rang as I opened it and left the institution. Freedom ring. I watched as a bevy of established people passed by me, deeply engaged in a conversation, some talking to others, the rest on their phones. After they passed, I crossed the street and walked to the apartment I'd called in to place rent on to be my new home. It was beautiful. It was large, and spacious. I set my bags down and looked through all the rooms. The bathroom was the biggest and the bedroom after that. I think I could like it here.  

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The next day, I went in for my interview. I'd applied for a position to work under the billionaire, Bruce Wayne. He was one of the most famous in all of Gotham City. As I went in, dressed in a black pantsuit with embroidered blood red designs on the sleeve cuffs and inside of the jacket, workers looked up in surprise at the 'high class' newcomer. All of them were high class themselves, but I'm sure they didn't expect someone to come in so early on in the year. And most of all, if anyone's leaked what my record looks like, my psychological record, that is.

I simply smiled and boarded the elevator along with everyone else and waited for my stop on the upmost top floor. Stepping out, the hall was empty until everyone on the elevator rushed out, which wasn't many. They obviously didn't have too many upper-class workers. Bruce Wayne's office was dim and he sat on the edge of his desk, chatting sweetly into the phone. Cute, you're a sad sap for love. 

I knocked lightly on the door and watched amusedly as he jumped and tried to discreetly rush off the phone. "No, I'm sorry. I've got an interview now. Okay, bye. Yes, I love you too." He hung up and sauntered over to me and held out his hand for me to shake. "Hello, I'm Bruce Wayne. Deliah right?" "Yes sir." We sat down and he interviewed the regular things and then picked up a sheet, reviewing it carefully. "It says you're fluent in French. Can you prove that? I know a little myself." "Ah, Oui, comme je le disais, je suis très couramment en français." He nodded and continued to scan my resume. "Well, you check out, Deliah. I'll see you tomorrow then, eh?" My forehead was crinkled. "Uh, Mr. Wayne, I noticed you overlooked my psychological records. Is there anything wrong?" A serene small crossed his lips. "Nothing at all. The way I see it, you've been checked out of there. Therefore, you seem perfectly fit to work here at Wayne Corporations." 

I was awestruck. No one had ever done that for me before. They always cringed away at the thought of my past and what I had done. I stood upright and shook his hand as he led me out of his office. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne. Thanks a lot." "Please," he said, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, "call me Bruce. Everyone does." He expected me to blush and skitter off, dreaming of him. Instead, I nodded and headed back to the elevator. "Will do...Bruce."