Bloodstained Joker

A/N: Dedicated to one of my favorite authors on Wattpad! :D Enjoy the chapter!

When Amelia arrived in Atlanta, she stopped at the first beauty supply store and bought dye for her hair. Now she was just another skinny blonde nerd among the crowd.

Everything was going perfectly.

Amelia grinned. No matter what others thought, she would come out on top. She would defeat the police. Whether Julian was with her or not didn't matter. If he wasn't useful, she didn't care for him. Amelia had had enough of people dragging her down in the past.

A soft giggle burst from her mouth.

Oh how she loved life.

~:~:~:~

"What! How could you?" Akira said in a shocked tone. The chief of police shrugged. "Julian's father paid for Julian's freedom from now until the trial. He'll be living with his parents, under surveilence twenty four seven. It's fine, it's not like the kid can beat twenty of us."

"That's..." Akira was speechless. How stupid where these people? How could they let a killer leave just because his family was loaded?

It was so unfair.

With a sigh, Akira picked up the file on Amelia Jones. He flipped through it slowly, glancing from one page to another. "You at least notified the police in Atlanta to look for Amelia? And remember, she'll most likely be disguised in one way or another. Maybe wearing a wig, or dyed her hair, things like that."

"Er... yes," The chief of police said awkwardly. "We alerted them, but... they're too busy. They have enough criminals there, and there's a shortage of police officers, so..."

Akira threw his papers into the air in frusteration. "DAMMIT!" He cried. "At this rate, we'll never find her!"

Spooked, the chief sneaked out of the room, trying to leave before Akira directed his fury towards him.

Akira growled and fumbled with his cell phone. He quickly dialed a number.

"Yes?"

"Tristan, I need you to do me a favor..."

Akira explained his situation. When the other person replied, Akira smiled.

He would never lose. Amelia Jones was as good as dead.

~:~:~:~

"How did you two meet?" His lawyer asked. Julian fidgeted in his chair, grumbling. "I already answered all your questions about the victims!" He snapped. "Why do you want to know about how I met Amelia? It's not going to change the past!"

"How did you two meet?" His lawyer repeated. "I need to know if I'm going to defend you in court. Answer my question."

"I..." Julian took a deep breath. "Last year..."

Julian shot another punch at the twelve year old's face, grinning as the boy screamed. "How do you like that?" Julian growled roughly. "That's what you get for messing with my little brother, you little piece of shit!" He punched the guy again and again, each hit making him whimper in pain. Julian's knuckles were starting to feel sore, and any minute the skin would break and his blood would mix with the tween's.

"Stop it!"

Julian turned to see a girl around his age, her brown hair tangled, dirt spread across her cheeks. She looked familiar. Was she in one of his classes?

"If you're going to kill him," The girl said in a fierce tone, "Don't beat him to death! Use a knife or something. You could get your blood on him; don't you know that blood is the hardest piece of evidence to get rid of?"

Julian gaped slightly. He had expected her to scream, to sob, to run, to help the boy... but instead she was reprimanding him for not killing the right way?

"Seriously, you'll end up in jail if you kill like that!" The girl scoffed. "I bet this is your first, huh? Let me show you how it's done." She picked up a stick on the floor. The girl slowly walked over to the boy and took his chin in her hand gently. Like a mother forcing her child to eat, she pried the boy's mouth open and shoved the stick down his throat.

The boy gagged and threw up, vomit running down his face. "Please," He begged, tears falling down his cheeks. "Please, don't..."

The girl ignored him and shoved the stick in deeper down his throat. The boy struggled, clawing at her hands, until he finally collapsed.

The boy choked and puked again, this time blood mixed in with the vomit. He laid there on the floor, convulsing every few minutes.