Why so serious?

[Masquerade]

This is a short story written about how the Joker from the Dark Knight got his scars. I based it off of his first story he tells people, because, in a way, I find it to be the more likely.


The door slammed open.

Shuffling feet brought along the thick stench of whiskey shots and urine like a noxious cloud. It clung to the peeling wallpaper and darkened the floor. Slippered feet slid across the cheap linoleum and white hands clenched the counter. Mother gasped as the light flickered.

“Where’s... m’ ...booze?” his voice cut through the air with slurred words. Mother shook her head. Her white hands were shaking and holding on for dear life.

“I said...where is it?!” he was shouting now. Shouting and reaching for an empty bottle on the table. He threw it at the cupboards, smashing it into sparkling crystal.

“WHERE-IS-IT?!” Louder now, and shaking too. Shaking with intensity only fury could unleash.

“G-gone.” Barely audible under the smashing of more glass and footsteps getting closer. One more step and her white hands shot across the counter. A knife gleamed in the flickering light.

“D’ you think you’re gonna CUT ME?” Angry laughter filled the room. “b**ch, you wouldn’ DARE.”

Struggle. Breathless struggle as she fought. Sweat gleamed on her forehead as she became the animal he forced her to be. He yelled in pain as red flashed across his stained shirt. No triumph was reflected in her eyes.

And then he broke her. Beating and punching her again and again, watching the knife fall from her hand, but not once reaching for it. Tears and blood mingled into streams down her cheeks, staining a face that hadn’t been perfect for eighteen years.

The knife gleamed in the flickering light.

Laughter pounded though the kitchen as he struck her, increasing in volume to cover her screams. It became the room. It filled it with terror and mad glee. And it only got worse as he picked up the knife.

My mother’s lifeless eyes stared at me, tinted with a life of remorse. Greasy strands of hair fell into her face, but I couldn’t move to push them away. Laughter echoed all around me.

“Why so serious?” he asks me turning and peering with dark eyes, his mouth laughing still.

I didn’t answer. There were no words left.

His eyes glare as his mouth smiles, his feet stepping closer and closer to me.

“Why so serious?” he shoves the blade into my mouth, it’s edge slicing at my lip. There was no happiness left. Laughter pierced my skull, invading all that I had left.

“Let’s put a smile on that face!”
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Insomniac depression or Ryan Ross obsession?<3

Things have changed for me. And that's okay. I feel the same. [There's nothing wrong with being Pretty. Odd.]