Cruel (A Joker Story) [UNDER REVISION]

45: The End (Revised)

(Author's Note: BEFORE YOU FREAK OUT, I may be writing a sequel depending on your comments and feedback. Actually, as I am posting this, I see your comments on the updates I published less than an hour ago and I am quite surprised this story has such a loyal following. So, there's a huge, huge chance this is getting a sequel because you guys are just so awesome. Thank you so much for your love and support. I would be nothing without you guys. <3)

-----

I looked into the mirror with my hollow eyes as my fingers traced the new set of scars on my face. I could feel the swollen flesh rise up to greet my fingertips in an agonizing, throbbing pain that was not familiar to me, but would grow to become me the same way they became Joker.

The crazy, blood red smile etched into my face forever. There was no running away. There wasn't any ability to wipe my face clean of these, they'd mark me for eternity, and bind me to my place.

My nurses managed to stop the bleeding from the back of my head and my face, but they were unable to properly stitch up my face to prevent major scars, so some parts of my scars were slightly raised. It was a miracle I didn't suffer a bad concussion, but I already knew I wouldn't. From the moment I was attacked I analyzed the wounds, if I had a concussion I would've had Joker drop me off at the hospital, and would have told the staff it was a hate crime in Downtown Gotham.

When it first happened to me, the sting of the cool blade and the tearing of skin, I was hoping there would be a way to fix it, to stitch it in a way that wouldn't make the scars so obvious, but after a few hours of recovery and letting it all sink in, the fact that I was marked, I didn't care to change them. I didn't care to hide them. They'd be here no matter what. And it was time for me to love them. To love my new self.

There was no room for an innocent, lost soul like Lucy anymore.

Life was cruel, wasn't it?

Well, I was used to it.

Sometimes, I think to myself that I shouldn't have left Metropolis. That I should have stayed a nurse, but then I remember how far away that life is from me now and that no matter what, some set of circumstances would have

led

me

right

here.

Joker told me to choose my life. To choose my daily routines of stitching people up, of sleeping next to the world's most intricate madman, to choose the fact that Lucy died long ago, and there's no way to resuscitate her. There's no need to. She would have been fed to Joker's hyenas and there would've been no more story. The end before it even began.

I had to fully choose him over her.

There was no more choices left with these scars. There was no running away now. No turning back. So it was time to accept fate as fate had wanted me to, it was time to become the me I was always meant to be.

I didn't think of this as fate forcing me to give into Joker, I thought of it more as a final push to accept this life. Even if I did choose normalcy before these scars, I would have gone home, and driven right back upon realizing a fact I could no longer shake, a fact I could no longer run from.

I was made for this life. I was made to rise up in infamy as Miss Morphine, and I was made to dominate Gotham as if it were beneath me, as if it were a bug under my shoe, and baby, I was ready to take my rightful place as the Clown Princess of Crime.

Well. . .

I chuckled into the mirror, even though it hurt my mouth to move. I didn't care. I liked the pain.

There was no way I could choose another life now.

I was here whether I liked it or not.

I wasn't sure if it was my recent facial scars or the medication I was on, but I could feel my insanity grow the longer I looked at myself in the mirror. This was my fate. This was my life. No matter what, Lucy was dead. Long gone. And I didn't miss her.

Screw my old friends. My old life. My old home.  My family.

They wouldn't love these scars. They wouldn't accept the life I lead. But fuck them, I didn't need them anyways. They wouldn't love me. They'd want the old Lucy who used to allow people to step all over her, the Lucy that would be overly generous to people who didn't care for her affection in the first place. The Lucy that almost allowed herself to die in the worst apartment complex Gothamites were ashamed to claim as something in their own city.

I heard footsteps enter the room, and turned to look at Joker in the eye as I felt my heart quiver in pleasure at the sheer sight of him. Those messy, greasy faded green locks, the messed up white face cream that revealed his skin color in the creases of his forehead, the small streak of black sliding down his eyes and onto his cheeks. The red, scraggly scars and lips that I loved to kiss. That powerful, purple suit.

He shifted on his feet while wielding his knife, head tilted to the side as he waited for me to speak first, but I pointed at my raw scars as reason not to speak, so he spoke first, realizing and probably remembering what it was like being hurt like this as well.

"The first few days are going to hurt like hell," he spoke, confirming my thoughts. He walked up to me as I looked into his eyes with my hollowed stare which was starting to crack into a look of pure love. We were connected now more than ever. "I'm sorry I didn't kill that guy sooner, and I'm sorry I gave you hell about—" I place my finger on his lips. It was unlike him to apologize, and I didn't want him to start now. I didn't want the sweet man underneath the Joker's mask, I wanted the Joker himself.

"The past is the past, and it should stay in the past," I spoke, searching his eyes before turning back to look at myself in the mirror. "Lucy is gone. You were right." I traced my scars with my fingers once more.

He placed a kiss on my forehead before turning me to look at him instead of the mirror. His eyes bore into mine.

"You are still beautiful," he spoke. I knew he was attempting to comfort me. But I didn't need his comfort. I didn't need his sympathy.

"I've been thinking that the whole time I've known you," I answered. "So I know I'm still beautiful. Scars don't make a person ugly." I traced his now. "Is this how people are driven to complete insanity?"

He cackled at my words before he gently placed his lips on mine. This action hurt so good that I let out a soft moan.

I gripped onto his arms as I felt something take me over. "Let's destroy this city."

He seemed to be pleased about my enthusiasm as he pulled himself away from me to study my face, kissing the scars on them. "Your wish is my command."

I grinned, I could feel this action cause blood to slide down the scar and down my chin as I pushed past him gently to walk out of the hospital room, putting my hat on as I walked down my hall and out of the building, feeling the sunlight on my face.

Exposing my new face.

Exposing the new me.

I turned to see Joker walk out as well, closing the door behind him as his dark eyes watched me curiously, his red-painted mouth smirking as he held up the car keys. "First course of action," I spoke, turning my eyes to look at Gotham. From our view, we could see all of the skyscrapers and helicopters in the sky along with the parting clouds and rays of sunshine that popped out of them. It made me so. . . Hateful. "Kill Riddler."

"Kill him?" Joker questioned, taking my hand.

"Kill him." I growled as I felt my heart darken, I pulled him into a fierce kiss before swinging the door open, and sitting inside of the car. "Let's go, baby."

~The End~