A/N: Oh lord, this book is going to have so many trigger warnings.
Trigger warning- suicide attempt. Also I swear my writing gets even better, the first imagines are always low key cringe.
It's been five weeks since I've known the Joker has been unfaithful. It wasn't that I expected him to want to settle down and marry me or anything. It hurt nonetheless to know he was running around town with his old flame while I was at home in his knife room. I lay with my head surrounded by the waves of blades, sinking slower and slower into a prison of my own making. He had loved me once. He told me the day I walked out on him, that he had sat in this very room, desperately searching for me. His search was over and mine began.
I picked up one blade and pressed the blunt edge across my mouth lightly, outlining a cold smile over my lips. "What are you doing?" A chuckle echoes throughout the room and I drop my arm by my side, placing the knife back in its place. I sit up and see the Joker crouching on the steps and looking at me with an enchanted grin, although there was a disturbed look in his eyes. When I look at him, my heart aches. His lips have been on her lips, his eyes have gazed into her eyes and his heart has been beating for her. I look away, too ashamed of myself for not staying away when I had left those many months ago. Ever since Harley came back into the picture, he hasn't been able to look at me the same way. He walks different when he escorts me to our room. I trace my fingertips along the cold walls as we walk and think about the nights his eyes would never leave mine. Where were those eyes now?
"Just... Enjoying myself," I reply and pick my self off the floor.
"I want to take you to an event, shall we call it?" He throws a beaded, long black dress at my feet. "I'll be back at 6:07 to get you. Be ready" reaching for the door knob, he pulls it open with a chilling creak.
"Are you going to see Harley," I meant to say it in my head but it reached my cracked lips instead. He stops in his tracks. His eyes flicker to meet mine and he runs his hand through his hair, craning his neck as though in pain, before he says the cruelest words I've ever heard,
"Toys shouldn't talk this much".