I'm not crazy. I'm not. (Joker Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 4

“Open the damn door!” the guard shouted, his fists banging against the glass. This had been going on for a good hour, hour and a half at most. It was around dinner time when they had noticed my absence and I could hear them freaking out through the walls of my cell, curtesy of the chips in my fingers. They registered vibrations in the hallway, turning the glass door into a microphone, so to speak. 

It was part of the agreement that if I stayed here I would have to be accounted for at every break and meal time in the course of the day. I was not to be alone in my cell during these times for fear of harm to myself or other personnel, blah, blahdy, blah, blah. 

Like I’d adhere to those ridiculous rules. 

I’d been rolling around on the floor at the hilarious string of curses pouring from the doctor’s mouths as they realized I’d changed the doors lock. What added another bit of comical goodness was that they could not break the door down, unless they had some explosives in their possession. I could faintly hear Joker volunteer these, followed by a series of shouts from the guards and a hysterical Joker cackling, “you can’t take a joke!?”

“Ms. Blackwood,” a familiar voice called from outside the door. My head snapped in the direction of the door, eyes narrowing at the use of my state given last name. 

When I didn’t respond, the voice tried again.

“Open the door,” he said, and I faintly registered the cocking of a gun. 

I pried myself off of the bed and pulled back my make shift curtain a fraction of an inch. Gordon stood, gun pointed at the wrong side of the small entrance, a scowl adorning his face. When he saw me I swear he almost wet himself. I would have too if I was the one on the receiving end of my not-so-pleased expression.

“Open the door, Azalea,” he stated, holstering the pistol. I bared my teeth at him. No one was supposed to know, let alone use my real name. Ever. Red clouded my vision as I stared down the worn police commissioner.  I could feel a wave of anger washing over me and knew I was in the grip of one my fits. 

A fit of rage.

“You want the door open!?” I shouted, backing up as far as the room would allow. “Then fine. I’ll open up the freaking door!”

With a huff I launched myself at the foot-thick pane of glass, reveling in the sound of the metal restraints popping and cracking as I shoved the door from it’s frame. I let loose a strangled howl as the door stopped its procession outward. 

Muttering under my breath, I backed up a few inches and flung my foot square into its center, sending the door flying across the way and into another cell with the force no human is supposed to possess. 

The small crowd of officers, doctors and guards stood in horrified silence, as I stepped past the threshold of my partially destroyed abode.

“There,” I spat, brushing a few stray hairs behind my ears, “the door is open.”

Some of my cell mates had their faces nearly pressed wholly up against the glass as they tried to get a better look at the scene that had just unfolded. 

Gordon stared at me in open mouthed astonishment, eyes flickering from me, to the door and back again. 

I arched one eye brow waiting for someone to speak, but all was silent save for the ragged breathing of a few trembling nurses. 

I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

“Now, what was so god damn important that you needed me out of my cell?” I asked, my words harsh and biting. 

No one knew how to answer that. I knew I had violated the agreement but I was known to do such things so it shouldn’t have really surprised them. I mean, come on. I nearly killed two of their colleagues within the first five minutes of my stay. Not coming down to dinner was to be expected, and if not, at least tolerated. 

“Someone clean this up,” Gordon mumbled, waving his hand at the guards. It took five of them to lift the door up and carry it out the wing. The doctors scurried after them, casting me worried glances over their shoulders as they went. 

This was countered with a none to friendly gesture of sign language, also know as flipping them the bird. 

“This is what you need to learn to control,” Gordon said, trying to use his ‘stern’ voice. The effect was kind of ruined when his voice shook. I sighed, running a hand down my face.

I would admit that my anger came in spontaneous, non-sensical bursts. Once I I threw a  rack of 50 pound dumbbells across the training room because another girl had spilled a bit of water on my clothes...

To be fair I wasn’t in a great mood that day anyway.

“I’ll...try,” I said, stumbling over the word like it was poisonous. 

“Thank you. We’ll see if we can get you a new cell,” he said, sounding relieved that I hadn’t yanked his head from his shoulders. 

“But never use my full name again, Gordon,” I said as he passed by me, “or you will wind up like that door”.

He gulped, nodded, then high tailed it out of there, leaving me among the criminally insane.

“How in the hell did you do that!?” someone exclaimed, and I turned to find a woman a bit older than me, staring at my torn up cell with...excitement.

I shrugged my shoulders, eyeing the wild mane of red hair that sat atop her head. It looked like a fox had died, then sewn itself to her scalp.

“Can you get us out of here?!” she asked, gesturing towards the others. 

“No. Plotting escape plans with the criminally insane is not part of my job description,” I quipped, sitting against the wall across from her. 

“We’re not crazy,” Joker snapped, standing menacingly behind his pane of glass. My eyebrows rose in a disbelieving expression and he sighed, before saying, “Well maybe that guy down there is, but we...uh....aren’t”.

I turned slightly to see a man rambling on about his “Alice”, as he proceeded to knock his head against one of the walls. 

“So, you’re saying you aren’t crazy. Correct?” I asked, not just to the Joker but to the whole group, some of which I couldn’t quite see but could hear moving around. 

“Yes,” a deep voice rumbled from the cell beside me. I glanced up to be met with a burly man, a mask covering the majority of his face. 

I stood, taking my merry time, and walked to the end of the hallway. They all awaited my response with baited breath.

“Well, that’s a shame,” I said, prying open the double doors, “because I’ve heard only the best people are.”

With that, I walked out, letting my nose guide me down to the cafeteria. Tearing up doors really does take a lot out of you.