Cruel (A Joker Story) [UNDER REVISION]

1: It's a Horrible Life [Revised]

I was never the best decision maker in the world.

I knew that now as I sat here in my dirty old apartment. The walls were stained with some brown substance that was here before I bought this place. The floor's carpet was dirty, and it felt thick as if something had dried inside of the fibers and had grown mold now.

My window had bars on it, all the windows did in this apartment structure. Many people tried to rob this end of the city, and I wasn't sure why. I had not a penny to my name, just the clothes on my back and the fifty-four dollars I held in my pocket. Maybe it was the lack of security that appealed to the robbers of this damned city, or the knowledge that my type of people had nothing left to live for. They could pick off our remains, our belongings like vultures pick off of carcasses.

My phone rang, cutting me off from my thought process. I frowned in surprise, I hadn't received a phone call in months. My family had refused to keep in contact with me after I left Metropolis City.

I picked it up and placed it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Lucy, hi," the voice responded, a high feminine voice I recognized. "It's Charlotte. Er, I've heard you've been in quite the bind. I can't believe I actually reached you this time, you've been gone so long." Her voice sounded eager, and a bit concerned.

Charlotte. She worked at Metropolis General Hospital with me. We were both registered nurses, and we always worked during the same times for five years. She was the closest thing I had to a friend, and I thought I had lost her when I moved, like I lost everyone else.

"Oh, you have no idea," I sighed. "Hold on," I spoke, placing the phone down on the linoleum tiled counter to run to the dining table, grabbing the creaky, unbalanced chair from it to pull it to the phone. The phone wasn't cordless. I sat down at the phone now. "Okay, I'm back." and I was also probably going to receive a complaint from Mr. Bert downstairs for running across my apartment, but that was the least of my worries.

"So how's Shaun?" she questioned.

The name set me in a state of silence as I felt my eyes start to overflow with salty, hot tears. I took in a shaky breath.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to upset you—"

This was the first time in a long time anyone was actually concerned with what I was going through. The first time in a long time that anyone was concerned for me, and my well-being. It felt so weird, but it was just what I needed in a time like this. "Charlotte, oh God, it's been so long since I had someone normal to talk to," I breathed, placing my elbow on my thigh and my head in my hand. I rubbed my forehead tiredly. "Shaun is gone."

"Why don't you just come back home?" she questioned me. "Work with us again?" I felt the ball in my throat now.

"Because they won't accept me after what Shaun did to me. . ." I spoke in a whisper.

"What? What did he do?"

"Oh, Charlotte, he stole a car and I took the fall for it. . ."

"Lucy! W-why would you—"

"I-It's a long story, Char, but now I'm considered a felon. I just got out of jail, I'm lucky I only got one year and probation, they usually give two years of jail time, but the judge took pity on me."

"So you broke it off with Shaun?" She asked quickly.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "That's the worst part of all of this. He left me for a stripper. Before I went to jail. He just, he just gave up on me, on us, and left."

There was a silence on the other end for a brief moment. "Lucy. . . Oh my god, Lucy. . . Where are you living?" Her voice sounded distressed, and worried now. I was surprised she hadn't hung up already, surprised that she still cared.

"The same, shitty apartment. All these months of payment, pissed away to the landlord while I was in jail, while I wasn't even living here! And, and I can't fight him or anything, because this is the only place that accepts felons," I spoke, then started crying. "Oh, god. . . And now I can't afford this month's rent, I only have fifty-four dollars, and the rent is one hundred and five. So I'll be homeless. . . I—"

The lights in my room flickered before shutting off, and the phone in my hand flat lined, and my digital clock shut off. The power went out.

Just my luck.

I heard all the residents in my floor start to loudly complain to each other as I numbly stood from my chair, then let out a dry laugh. Of course that would happen to me.

My life was horrible, and I was meant to be alone.

I walked out of my apartment, closing the door behind me and locking it before turning left to walk down the flights of stairs. The smell of cigarette smoke made me nauseous, but I was getting used to it. It was as if everyone in this entire building structure smoked, and I was the odd one out. The air was thick with smoke, and I was almost positive I'd eventually die of secondhand smoke eventually.

At least it'd put an end to this wretched life.

I walked down six flights of stairs before I hit the bottom floor. I pushed open the brown entrance, looking around me with a miserable sigh. I took a step forward, and realized I was surrounded by a bunch of hookers. They waited for customers outside of my apartment, I nearly forgot about that. This was the first time I had the courage to leave my room at night since Shaun lived with me.

"Hey, sweetie, this is our turf," one of the ladies spoke to me, cigarette in hand, blonde hair disheveled. She looked like she had seen some messed up things in her life.

"Oh, n-no, I'm just. . . I live here," I spoke, pointing to my apartment. "I was just walking out, I'm not—"

The sound of a purple van with a picture of The Joker painted on the side screeching to a halt broke our conversation short, as the back doors opened to reveal men in clown masks. "I choose this one," one of the men spoke, grabbing me by the arms and shoving me into the back of the van. He jumped in with me, and I could only assume the other guy got in the front. I started screaming as the doors closed, and it became dark, the moonlight shining through the tiny window on the doors and I tried to use it to my advantage as I tried to fight the man who brought me in here. "Funny, ya don't look all dressed up. Must be 'cause it's cold outside. The boss will like you, though. He always does like brunettes."

"No, please!" I shouted as I felt the van start to drive away. "I'm not a—!" The man put a piece of cloth to my face, and I passed out.

--

When I woke up, I was laying on the cold floor. I opened my eyes and stretched my hands out, groaning. What was going on? I was laying on cement, but I was indoors. I looked around me to find a broken down, indoor roller coaster. It was a faded green, with what looked to be a baby clown on the front of it, the image was dirty but still clean enough for me to make out the image. The tracks were broken in half, but in a sad attempt to fix it, someone had put wood in the center of it. 

I quickly sat up, looking around me at the tacky, green and purple walls. I felt a presence but I wasn't sure who, or what it was.

I got up on my feet, trying to steady myself as I stood in the center of this empty, crazed carnival-like room. "Hello?" I questioned.

I remembered the van. The image on the sides of it. The men in clown masks. What was this? Some fucked up amusement park?

The sound of laughter cut me off as I heard footsteps, I turned my head to the shadows underneath the roller coaster. I couldn't make them out just yet, not until a purple foot escaped the darkness and revealed itself in front of me in the light. The person fully slipped out of the dark.

I tried to hold in a scream as I looked up at the man. The man with green hair, pale skin, black eyes and a red mouth. His purple suit was stained with blood, the green vest underneath dirtied as well. "Oh, hello dear, feeling better after your. . .Nap?" He joked before letting out a loud, crazed laugh.

It was none other than The Joker.