I used to be labelled by my doctor as an insomniac. During my early teens, I'd experienced sleep paralysis much more than once and there were lots of times where I'd end up going to school without having a night's sleep beforehand. The sole cause of that was my phobia of drowning. I'd have constant dreams, reoccurring ones, where I was trapped in a glass tank, with hundreds of people watching me. Laughing at me. I was a circus act. Then one night the glass tank was an ocean. A deep, dark, vast ocean. The thought of the unknown endlessness of the earth terrified me. One night I woke with a panic attack.
This time, it was the Joker that gave me sleepless nights.
The thought of him daunted me. His tall, strong build; his grim face; his dark, eerie eyes; his smile... that same, hellish grin. Those damn scars.
After I'd gone home that night, I remembered my mom already being in bed. I was too scared of sleeping alone. I was too scared of being alone. I'd dragged my pillows and blanket outside of her door and slept sat against the wall. I was terrified of being alone.
I was too scared to sleep.
The morning after was rough. Here I was, sat in my psychology lesson with my eyes feeling like two hollow burnt holes in my skull. I sat at my own desk today. I got a few stares but I didn't dare tell a soul about what happened. I was too fearful of what'd he'd do if I said anything. I didn't call the police out of fear that I'd get more involved and in more trouble than I already was. I was most likely the only girl in Gotham with the slightest idea of the Joker's whereabouts. And he most likely knew about mine. He was probably tracking me right now.
"Stella?" Some kid who went to elementary whispered over to me from another desk. I turned my head towards him but my gaze shot straight through him, like he was transparent. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
My eyes stayed pried open wide. My mouth stayed in a still straight line and madly, I just nodded. I'd listened to his comment but I didn't know what to say. What could I say? 'Sure, I'm doing great. By the way I just fended off the fucking Joker last night and ended up not sleeping a wink. How about you?'
His face turned blank, like he was... scared. Scared of me. I wasn't surprised, I scared myself. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I stared back at the board, trying to mindlessly absorb the information. Trying to distract myself.
Some girl in the front raised her hand. "What about insane people, miss? Like murderers?"
The teacher gladly answered, "Now that's a different topic, but an interesting one. Many say that..."
As she spoke, two boys behind me whispered.
"You heard on the news, right?"
"What?"
"About the guy who stuck a pencil through this guy's face."
Head. It was the head.
Why was I defending his actions?
"Oh, yeah. The, uh... Joker, right? He escaped from the loony bin on Arkham Island, I think."
Oh God, he'd only just escaped from an asylum? Why was it me who had to be cursed to sit by him on that bus? I felt sick just hearing the name and I was certain I would've emptied up my already hollow stomach onto the table if I wasn't so... petrified. I was stiff. I barely moved.
The boys continued to whisper. "You seen the scars on his face?"
Yes.
"Nah, what do you mean?"
"Christ, it's some real creepy shit. Look," He said, then cleared his throat loudly. "Uh, ma'am?"
She glanced at him, "Yes?'
