A lonely young women's life changes the very
night of Murray Franklin's murder, on live television and it is a change that her heart will never forget. When she spots a man passed out and bloody, in an alley, that same night and even when she sees...
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After his cigarette was lit she stood up and looked away from him and now she wanted a cigarette too, but suddenly realized that she had run out and never went to get more do to the circumstances. She turned back around and saw he was now leaned back on the couch smoking away and looking very content for someone who could barely walk, without almost falling over.
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"Hey, I ran out of smokes, can I bum one of yours...please?" She could tell he heard the nervousness in her voice and he smiled again and said
"Yes, of course", he said, his voice low and raspy, like someone just waking up out of a deep sleep.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a red pack of cigarettes and extended his arm for her to take one. She smiled coyly at him and took one and quickly lit it. She needed a cigarette after all of this insanity, especially after looking at this mysterious man's eyes.
Even though Joker was feeling a little better now that he was sitting down, but he still was feeling woozy and had to try and not move too much so he wouldn't get nauseous again. He also was unbelievably exhausted, but even when he would not be able to sleep for days and was very tired he still had trouble, or woke up on and off or had night terrors.
Night terrors that, up until recently, he had thought had no actual reason, but unfortunately they do and those memories that he had suppressed for most of his painful life were still coming up from the deep, hidden crevices of his mind. They were torturous.
"Oh, I completely forgot what I was doing" she stammered, as she put the pillows down on the couch beside him.
She put the towel over the one on top for him and hoped he would be able to rest, but she also didn't know what to do and was afraid he wouldn't be okay, or even possibly die because she didn't bring him to a hospital. He seemed okay now but she knew that didn't mean anything.
Iris saw him wince in pain when he tried to run his fingers through his wavy hair as if he forgot he had been injured. She also thought he might want to shower or something but was afraid he would fall and hurt himself even more, or worse. She did think enough to get some rubbing alcohol along with the wet hand towel.
