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

Chapter 3

Main Character's (Not yet named) P.O.V



"Too slow," I sang, as I leant back into the moth eaten couch. The man next to me scooted over a bit, allowing me more personal space. I was thinking it was more for his benefit than mine.

The demented clown stared at me in awe for a few seconds, before snapping himself out of it. He approached me cautiously as if I was a rabid animal poised to strike. When threatened, I have to admit the description was not that far off.

"How did you do...uh...that?" he inquired, stopping his procession a good ten feet from me. I eyed him for a few moments, deciding on which story I wanted to spin this time. From this close up I could see every nook and cranny of his scars. They twisted his face up into a grisly imitation of a smile that was almost physically painful to set my eyes upon. At this moment in time I hated my enhanced vision with a passion.

Red lipstick covered the scars and his lips, with white grease paint around the rest of his face. Black was smeared around his eyes and I was vaguely reminded of a raccoon.

I sighed and tapped my chin in thought. Maybe I'd tell him the 'I'm a vampire' one. That always startled a few of the newbies that trained at the facility...

Or maybe I'd tell him I fell into a vat of radioactive sludge. That one didn't cause much fear, more fascination. I totally blame spiderman for that. After a moments debate I decided to tell him the one I found most interesting.

"Well, you see, I was raised by wolves," I stated leaning forward to rest my elbows against my knees. "Wolves have spectacular reflexes, agility, hearing, the whole shebang."

He stared at me with a dubious expression, obviously not believing a word that was coming out of my mouth. But he stayed put and listened, much too determined to find at least one ounce of truth that could possibly lie within the fictional account.

"As a human child I had to learn to adapt. It was adapt or die– always was, always will be. Any who, I hunted with them, ran with them, fed among them and I learned certain things. The brain is a powerful piece of machinery–" I said, but was rudely interrupted by a burly guard who stood by the entrance of the room.

"Break time is over, ladies! Let's get a move on!" He shouted, turning slightly red in the face.

Clown man growled in annoyance, looking about ready to rip the guys throat out. I surveyed him, my eyes coming to rest on his, scrutinizing the malice swarming around his irises, and knew he'd have no problem doing just that.

"Calm down Joker. We'll be back here tomorrow. She'll finish the story then," a woman reasoned from behind me. I didn't turn, preoccupied with matching this carnies name with a face.

"Joker," I whispered under my breath, too low for anyone to hear. The name sounded weird on my tongue, but seemed to fit this man perfectly.

"Joker," I repeated in my mind, and the name set off a few dusty bells. I racked my brain, trying to find the source of the recollection but I was coming up blank. I was now a bit unsettled, but shook off the feeling. I'd figure it out sooner or later. It's not like I was in a huge rush.

"Until tomorrow my lovelies," I chirped, standing and wiggling my fingers at the clown. Then I turned and waved at the man and woman who had been burning my back with their stares for the past 5 minutes.

Without waiting for a response I walked from the room, my strides long but not necessarily purposeful. The guards by the entrance had cast their gazes to the floor as I passed, not wanting to wind up like their friends.

Smiling, I made my way to the 'crazies' wing of the asylum, and walked into the only room that had the glass door covered. I'd done that earlier, and was only allowed to, for fear of what would happen if I was denied my request.

It was covered from the inside with a plain white bed spread. Wait, that was a lie. It was more off white, for reasons I sincerely did not want to know.

The sheet was stapled to the space above the door, while the rest effectively covered the glass, creating a barrier between myself and the rest of the world.

I slammed the door shut, sighing in content as the lock clicked into place, sealing me in. I'd changed the passcode while I was putting up the sheet. The security around here was absolutely pathetic.

If I decided this place wasn't to my liking, getting out would be a piece of cake. It also meant that there would be less blood splatter during my escape. You'd be surprised at how hard it was to get the smell of blood from your hair...