Porcelain [ ᴊᴏᴋᴇʀ ]

Chapter 3: Snitchin'

(Originally published: October 2020)

(Rewritten: November 2024)

Crime & Chaos

" SNITCHIN' "

by house_of_gia

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Julie cowered around the corner, staring at the fat white door with a knife clutched in her trembling hands.

A couple hours passed and she became tired, her back sliding slowly down the wall. She dug the ball of her palms into her eyes, trying to rub away the fatigue.

Had I just escaped the Joker? Was that even him? 'Course it was; the same purple suit, scars on full-display, thin, green-brown curls...

She rubbed her wrists, then held them up. Red marks that were soon to form into bruises. They hurt like hell.

A trying turn of the door handle made her snap her head up. She hoisted herself up from the floor with a wince, never once letting go of the knife. With it pointed at the door, she waited.

The familiar jingle of keys made her cry out in relief and as the door opened, her mum stepped over the threshold, her blue nurse pinafore apron the perfect shade of reassurance.

"Julie, what--"

Julie dropped the knife and hugged her mum, unsure if she was even there, like she was an illusion conjured up by the Joker to mess with her. The blue pinafore apron turned dark and wet as Julie wept into it, clinging onto her mum.

"I thought you were—Oh, god, mum, he's after me. He's gonna—he's gonna kill me. Please—" A panicked chorus of inhales and exhales withdrew from Julie as she spluttered her words. Her mum grabbed her shoulders, shaking them impatiently.

"Who? Who's going to kill you?"

Julie blinked away the blur, looking up at her mum with wide, bloodshot eyes.

"The Joker" left her trembling lips, barely a whisper. If she said it another two times, he was sure to appear.

Her mum laughed. Julie's face fell.

"Why would a psycho like him go after a 17-year-old kid? I really doubt it, Julie." Her mum walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She hung her keys on the wall hook on the way, unperturbed and amused. "I don't need this lies after a 10-hour-shift."

The tears Julie had blinked back welled back up again, her throat threatening to close up. She followed her mum into the kitchen. "You--you think I'm lying? He chased me down the path, walked past the window! He knows where—where we live—I—"

"Come off it. He was last seen near the bank; he wouldn't be anywhere near here unless he took the bus like some civilised person?" Her mum scoffed, not turning around to look at her terrified daughter. "Anyway, you're not exactly that special." (You're just a special little thing, ain't ya?)

"That was like a day ago!" Julie frowned. "And how would that make me special?!"

Rolling her eyes, her mum grabbed the cup of tea and walked upstairs. "I don't know! Just go take a shower. You look filthy."

Julie stared at the spot on the stairs where her mum had just been standing, unable to move. She couldn't believe this.

An overwhelming sense of dread overcame her...