#normal!joker

Another day, another long soak in the bathtub calling your name. Why did you buy another pair of boots when you already have over a dozen?

Well this one had belts, chains, and beautiful stitching along the perfect heel height. Tall but not slutty enough to draw unwanted attention. It practically begged you to buy them when you first saw them online. So, you resigned yourself to torturing your feet for the next month and a half all for the sake of fashion.

Yeah, beauty really is pain. The next song on your playlist blasted through your ears as you stepped onto the subway.

It was nearly full of Gotham citizens. Some were heading home after a long shift, whereas others looked ready to find the next party or worse, trouble. You kept your head down and shuffled to the last train car.

People came and went and your e/c eyes flickered with each newcomer that your paranoia mind deemed suspicious. It wasn’t the best idea to board the last train car this late at night, although it beat fighting for space to breathe.

Up ahead, people packed themselves in like sardines. Your anxiety literally could not. At least you had a seat back here.. even if it came with some consequences.

The subway went through an underground tunnel, and two men used the cloak of darkness to complete an exchange right there on the tube. The few passengers in this compartment were nodding off, blissfully unaware, except for one guy openly staring at you.

This was about the time you regretted not walking home or at least sucking up your anxiety to stand in the crowded, well-lit cars ahead.

His glare had a way of turning your alt outfit of black lace and leather corsets into something you wanted to cover up. You felt confident at work, right now, not so much. You shook off the ick as you checked which station the subway was arriving to next.

You would risk walking the rest of the way home than dealing with this creep. You stood up to exit the subway, not noticing he did the same.

The hooded figure seated in the very back also stood up, shadowing your stalker.

He had a routine of protecting the rear subway cars late at night. Dangerous things happened to sleeping passengers and even worse to innocent women.

The police wouldn’t see his deeds as heroic yet they did nothing to stop the crimes that happened at this station almost nightly. If the police wouldn’t do anything about creepy pervs harassing women, Joker would gladly fight crime with crime and give them homicides to investigate instead.

Joker waited two minutes before trailing behind the guy stalking you. They followed you, each with nefarious thoughts on the mind.

You stopped at a cross section to rummage through your purse, and Joker used that moment to strike—well before your would-be attacker could.

You had already crossed the street, dragging your aching feet along when Joker began his first (of many) exterminations of the night.

There was one less weirdo on the streets all thanks to Joker. He’d clean up the mess later. For now, he needed to make sure you made it home safe.

He hated working weekends. Sure the tips were good and it got him out of the house. No, Joker hated working weekends because obnoxious parties like yours always came in making his job a nightmare.

Why did people eat at establishments like this? Grady’s sounds exactly like what’s on the menu.

Cheap, greasy, questionable food—all available 24/7 in an old, all-American diner setting.

There was no vegan options. No low carb either. And definitely no substitutions—at least not on Joker’s shift, that is. He loathed being a server at Grady’s just as much as he hated the customers that came in thinking they were superior to food workers.

Were people really dumb enough to anger the person handling their food? Why yes, they were.

Joker thoroughly enjoyed tampering with rude customers’ food that he made it into a side-hobby. Snooty soccer moms, cringeworthy Karen’s, pompous CEO’s, and dozens of other stereotypes all fell mysteriously ill under Joker’s food recommendations.

‘Oh, our daily plate is to die for.’

‘Everyone raves about our pies.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s on the house..’

Joker plastered a fake smile each time he delivered a meal to a customer. In twenty-four hours, they’ll be dead.

Now he wasn’t randomly killing people. Joker let them get addicted to Grady’s slop to gain their trust as he ran an background check. Only after he judged them as a poor human being, would he deliver the final blow.

Revenge was best served piping hot, in his opinion.

His manager was none the wiser that his picture-perfect server was secretly.. openly.. poisoning people.

The chefs were in on it. The waitresses looked the other way. Some even threw Joker knowing looks as if to say, “Here’s another victim for ya.”

Another rude, heartless person gone from the world, was Joker’s justified reasoning. He only targeted people who genuinely deserved it. He was.. making Gotham a better place!

Which brough him standing in front of your table—awaiting a response to his question of “whaddya want?”

Joker automatically hated this group.

Half the table were staring at the sticky menus, trying to decipher the options available whereas the rest ignored him completely to talk amongst themselves.

Joker heard one guy mutter that the calorie count wasn’t listed on the menu. A girl hissed behind her hand, no doubt, badmouthing Joker about something else.

He heard “so not getting a tip..” and rolled his eyes.

So many victims…. yet his train of thought derailed when he heard your voice.

“Hi! How are you? I’ll have the Fat Boy burger with all the fixings. Oh and heavy on the fries, please if you can.” You met Joker’s green eyes and smiled.

Joker was torn. He already planned on poisoning the entire table but now he couldn’t bring himself to harm you.

Your sweet nature saved you, although you looked quite the opposite. Joker admired your alt aesthetic in intrigue. You stuck out like a sore thumb amongst your friends.

You were the only one who acknowledged him. The only one to smile and say please. You treated him like a person and bonus points—you collected the menus after each person ordered. This was a first.

No. He couldn’t kill you. So, Joker had to improvise. “We’re uh.. out of beef.”

“Seriously, what restaurant runs out of food?” The same girl from earlier mumbled. Joker was adding an extra dose of poison into her milkshake…

The setback didn’t deter you. With a pout you replied, “Oh, well can you surprise me with whatever you’d eat? I’m not picky.”

I wouldn’t eat anything in this place. Joker thought. He’d have to have a long talk with Ruddy in the kitchen. Do. Not. Tamper. With. Your. Plate. You deserved extra fries indeed.

Joker walked off without a word but he heard you scolding your friends as he left.

“He’s just doing his job and you idiots were being so rude! Oh yes we are leaving a tip Jessica! $40!”

Joker found himself smirking. Perhaps there was still good people in the world. A shame about your friends though.

What are the odds that your favorite dry cleaner gets shut down by the GCPD for money laundering?

And just your luck, your favorite pair of perfectly ripped black jeans are being held as evidence. If you didn’t get them back, you swear you’ll retaliate with violence.

The whole ordeal left you in a sour mood as you trecked to the shady laundry mat to wash your clothes for the week. The late hour guaranteed the place wouldn’t be crowded but this was Gotham, and safety was as nonexistent as water in a desert.

You stepped inside and scanned the room. A lady asleep by the dryers and a couple packing their clothes into baskets, preparing to leave. Near solitude. It was almost too good to be true.

You set to work adding in clothes, soap and softener, while being aware of your surroundings. An hour later the door opened with new arrivals. You didn’t like the guy that walked in with a smug grin and a single bag of laundry.

He leered at you the entire time and you were ready to call it quits when a familiar shade of green hair flooded your vision. When did he get here?

You kept meeting this guy everywhere, it had to be fate! If only he was more sociable and told you his name—but you kinda liked the mystery. Today he wore headphones and a signature frown as he shoved a sea of black into the washing machine. Funny, he used the same brand of detergent as you.

Taste in music wasn’t the only thing you two had in common. Sensing your gaze, Joker looked up. His eyes widened just a fraction before they darted away.

You tried not to let his rejection get to you but.. yeah. It kinda did. You went back to folding towels overthinking that entire interaction.

But you couldn’t have a moment of peace because the creepy guy from earlier got tired of staring and now wanted to talk. You tried to ignore his harassment, but he invaded your personal space by touching your arm. “Don’t touch me.”

“Aww, don’t be like that darling. I’m just being polite.”

This was him being polite?! You didn’t want to see his rude behavior. Before you could tell him off, your green-eyed hero swopped in and escorted the guy straight out of the laundry mat.

It happened so fast you didn’t have time to react. No one else in the vicinity batted an eye. Were you imagining things? Perhaps reading dark romance novels was messing with your head. All you could do was return to folding clothes and hope that everything was okay outside.

You were almost done with your last load when the sound of the door opening startled you from your thoughts.

The pestering rain did little to wash away the red on Joker’s hands. He made a point to stand next to you and, shockingly, begin to help fold your socks. You stared at him in awe.

This was your chance to talk to him! He was right there like an open invitation!

You nudged his side with a sly grin, “Did ya kill him in the alleyway or what?”

He was gone for quite some time—your dark mind imagined he beat up the creep and left him for dead. This was Gotham after all.

Still.. even if your crush was a textbook alternative guy: introverted and filled with despair, you could tell he was nothing but a softy. All emo guys were deep down. He probably wouldn’t harm a fly. Just your type.

You simply needed to break down his gloomy exterior before you sank your teeth in and claimed him.

You meant it as a joke, but Joker tensed up at your words.

“Did ya kill him in the alleyway or what?”

Was it that obvious? He thought he washed all the blood off in the rain before he came back in.

Joker didn’t mean to kill the guy but he couldn’t stand the way he lusted after at you all night making perverted gestures like groping the air near your body.

It wasn’t any of Joker’s business to intervene. He. didn’t. know. you. He should have just minded his own business like everyone else did. But he felt bad for doing nothing to help.

So when that guy touched you, Joker snapped.

Joker’s ‘heroic deed’ did earn him your attention and for that he was grateful. Joker didn’t have the guts to talk to you but he could stomach bashing a guy’s head in until it resembled a smashed pumpkin.

The Smashing Pumpkins. You really had good taste.

Joker liked the sound of your voice as you chimed off more music recs for him to try. All in all, it was nice to interact with someone for a change, even if Joker was staining your fuzzy socks with blood during the process.

Hopefully you wouldn’t mind. You were sick in the head just like Joker.

Gotham: a city that never sleeps and more importantly, a city of constant rain. Umbrella in hand, classic Docs shuffling along the cracked pavement, you were headed to your slice of nirvana.

The record store. They were making a comeback and the ‘cool kids’ aged like fine wine into nostalgic adults with plenty of adult money to spend. You heard the bell above the door jingle right as the smell of old leather, coffee, and cigarettes hit you full force.

It was an acquired scent, one that you embraced like an old friend. LegaCee’s been in business since records were invented. The owners passed down the shop and the adjacent recording studio throughout the generations to keep music alive.

It was more than just a record store; it was a historical site standing as a testament to music.

You were a devout customer—always stopping by after payday for an album and to listen to the local band performances held every Friday and Saturday nights.

Needless to say, if you were alternative and mad at the world, you knew about LegaCee’s. Popular enough to have a cult client base, but small enough that mainstream influencers didn’t have a clue about it, you always felt at home inside the smoke-filled store.

You cooed softly seeing the new arrival’s selection on display. Some local bands mixed in with underground artists, your manicured fingers were combing through the assortment in no time.

The hours always managed to tick away while you were in LegaCee’s.

A moody LP played on the overhead speakers as you browsed through the rock section in earnest. Your eyes widened seeing a title you’ve been hunting down for months, and you reached for it right as cold, metal clad fingers brushed against yours.

“Oh, I’m..” the rest of your words tapered off as twin orbs of jade pierced your soul.

Time stood still as the sound of teen angst faded into white noise. You found yourself caught in bubble with this handsome stranger as your center.

You boldly stared at the guy in awe. He possessed a beauty that was best kept a secret. A constellation of freckles across his hooked nose, pouty lips that never knew the concept of a smile. He pierced the corners of them (most likely to mask the scars on his cheek), and you followed the flash of silver up to his brows where another piercing adorned his face. And oh, his eyes.

You had never seen green eyes so vivid before.

The hue took your breath away, but the misery etched within tugged at your heartstrings. Dark, forest green hair fell on cue into his line of vision and you had the urge to push it away, just to feel how soft it was. Even damp from the rain you knew it was something to behold. You gravitated towards his melancholic aura like a lost soul adrift at sea.

He grew visibly uncomfortable the longer you stared and he cleared his throat—thus ending your art study.

You couldn’t bear to feel embarrassed. You had half a mind to thank him for his time.

“Go ahead.” He mumbled.

The words came as a shock. You heard him but the deep baritone of it had you near speechless. It took you a second to understand what he was saying.

“No! You touched it first.” you slid the vinyl from the display box and held it as a peace offering. “You should take it.” you stressed.

His eyes flickered from your easy-going smile to the record in your hands.

It was clearly used but Cee’s always verified vinyl’s before reselling them. Nothing but a few scratches and pops to enhance the niche record. Yeah, he wanted it, but it felt wrong to take it when you clearly wanted it more.

He saw how your eyes brightened earlier when you saw the label. Not like he was staring at you to notice! It’s just that you found the album first, fair and square.

He was not interested in you or the album. Joker knew when to cut his losses. “Nah, I.. I uh. I don’t deserve it.”

You watched in disbelief as he bolted from your side and out of the record store entirely. You were left scratching your head in confusion.

What just happened?

You tried to put the odd (but phenomenal) experience behind you. A week passed and you were itching to return to Cee’s to watch a local band perform.

You wore all black, ripped your fishnets, and cried until your eyeliner bled down your cheeks in the most dramatic way. This was your favorite Gotham based band; you had to show up and out!

The venue was a bit crowded, but you found a corner to call your own for the next two hours. The lights had yet to dim so people were mingling about before the set began. Right as you were pulling your phone out to check the time, someone bumped into from behind.

You had queued up a nasty remark until a flash of vivid green stole your breath again. “Hey! Wait!” you grabbed his flannel shirt, stopping him from fleeing the scene.

Tonight, your mystery man was dressed up. At least by hipster standards.

Baggy clothes, tasteful layers and.. was that a septum ring? That wasn’t there before.. You admired the accessories that accentuated his aesthetic. A black beanie (even if it did conceal his sick dye job) and gothic rings on his fingers.

You nodded at his 1-800-Antihero T-shirt. You loved that group.

“I didn’t catch your name.” it wasn’t your best icebreaker, but he didn’t give you much to stab at.

Complimenting his piercings felt too cliché and you wouldn’t dare strike up a conversation about the weather.

You weren’t that desperate. Wait..

He rolled his eyes but stuck around to grunt out a low, “Didn’t give one.”

Ohhhhkay..

A man of few words. You inclined your head, holding back a laugh. “Right. Well, I hit up Frost, the manager, yeah, he found a copy of the album we were both eyeing last Friday. He’s holding a copy at the register if ya wanna cop it.”

Another peace offering. You hoped that he accepted this one.

Instead Joker narrowed his eyes at you. Why were you striking up a conversation with him? A girl like you was way out of his league and even worse, you were going out of your way to be nice.

Personally reserving an album for him? Only VIP customers could do that, and you didn’t look the type.

Whoever let you out the house in that skimpy skirt and ridiculous fluffy boot combo should be shot executioner style. However, Joker did admire your unique sense of fashion.

He never liked normal.. and you clearly had the same outlook in life. Still, you shouldn’t be chummy with someone like him.

Joker didn’t know you, but he knew you deserved better than whatever he could give.

You frowned hearing his soft Thanks before he, once again, walked away.

You watched the back of his green hair disappear into the chanting crowd. The concert was starting yet you suddenly weren’t in such a headbanging mood.  

There had be a reason why your mother was so stupid.

Yes, she wants the best for you. Yes, you love her dearly and the feeling is mutual. However, you and your mom are polar opposites. She wears pearls like body armor. Her heels click loudly when she walks into a room, and her word is final as she locks down a business deal.

She’s a powerhouse in every sense of the word, but she’s just a woman. And that’s where common sense fails her. Because by her side, your father undermines her entire life’s work. He secretly works against her, ruining funding, handling illegal business deals, and tarnishing her career.

Your parents are both ruthless, power-hungry individuals. One works for the people, the other only for himself. Ying and Yang, covertly at odds yet madly in love. It doesn’t make sense to you.

Perhaps it never will. You hate your father—and yes, having daddy issues is a compliment. You go out of your way to embrace the ‘misunderstood’ lifestyle to aggravate your father.

Mom doesn’t mind; if fact she supports your dark aesthetic and gloomy persona. Well sometimes the heavy metal blaring from your room is a bit much… but she could never be disappointed in her only daughter.

But dad? Dad is the reason why it’s 2AM and men are breaking into the house hoping to ‘burn the corruption’ to smithereens.

You know he’s behind all of this bad press Mom’s had recently. He was secretly trying to take over.

You’re thankful Mom already left for a PR event, because Thursday is normally girl’s night. She lets you paint her nails black and vent about injustice in Gotham. She does her best to incorporate your ideas into real world solutions. In return, you let her play dress up and turn you into a ‘proper daughter’ aka, a mini her.

It’s not helping your cause tonight. You can hear thugs tearing the place apart; looking for your mother. You wore one of her tweed suits; in honor of girl’s night, you tell yourself..

It’s gonna get you killed.

You sneak around a corner, straight into a solid chest.

Joker barely recognized you based on how your dressed. His intel confirmed that the Governor’s family was home, but he didn’t know know you were the Governor’s daughter.

This put a wrench in the plans. Mainly because Joker didn’t wish to burn the house down with you inside.

Perfect political mother, corrupt businessman of a father, and rebellious daughter. You really are the black sheep of the family.

Why should you carry the sins of your father? You had nothing to do with this. Joker was growing soft..

You still didn’t know his name but his eyes… so green and troubled. You were about to ask Joker what was going on, when he knocked you out and heaved you onto his shoulder.

He would get another chance at killing your father; tonight, Joker was saving a life.

Friday night and you just got paid. A brand-new outfit clings to your sweaty body, and your knee-high platforms are sticking to the venue floor.

There’s a haze in the air yet no one in the crowd pays it any mind. In fact, it makes the sway of bodies flow more fluidly as dark melodramatic music weaves a spell on everyone present.

It’s the perfect scene for chaos.

Joker knows the job is shady. He knows working for the former psych doctor will only lead to ruin but money is tight and he’s already here so.. can’t back out now.

The instructions are clear. Drop the package and run. The gas mask provided is enough warning for Joker to know what will happen once he leaves.

However, he’s stalling. The main act isn’t on stage yet and Joker is actually enjoying the event thus far.

No one is complaining that the music is too loud, or that illegal substances are being used in plain sight. Just a den of morbid likeminded individuals blissfully unaware their night is about to take a turn for the worse all because the lead singer is a hypocritical scumbag.

They started out good, until greed and power did what it does best. They sold out for fame and that’s a shame given their stage name is Bl33d the R!ch.

Fitting.

So, Joker lies in wait for the perfect moment to strike. Some sacrifices are necessary for the greater good. He just wishes the venue wasn’t so packed.

And that’s how you spot him in the crowd. Brooding as always with that odd gleam in his eye. You can’t name the emotions swirling within. It’s a bit unsettling but it’s also kinda hot.

But you hold your breath. Because tonight will be the night that I’ll fall for you—wait...

You hope tonight is the night you finally learn his name, get his number, or perhaps sneak away for a moment alone. The endless possibilities motivate you to walk over. His vivid green eyes reel you in even as you stumble in your chunky boots.

Weird. The room is starting to blur.. and more shocking, he starts the conversation. “You need to leave.”

In the background you hear the cheeky mic test the band does to rile up the crowd. Their cheers sounds so distant.

“What? Are you security or something?” you tease. He certainly looks the part with black ripped jeans, and an Anti hero band tshirt hugging his frame.

Crossing his arms gets your attention more than his ominous words. “Things are about to get crazy and I don’t want you caught in it.”

Joker eyed one of the backup goons running out the back. He failed his objective which means the building is already flooded with Scarecrow’s toxins.

There is no time to explain. Joker puts his gas mask on and shoves you towards the nearest exit. “Leave. Now.”

The first scream tears through the air as the smoke, what was so innocent moments before, flashes a sinister purple.

You felt feverish. The bass invades your bones and whispers horrid thoughts you never dared to ponder. You wanted to claw your face off to stop the noise! What was happening? People were hurting each other and and and

and through it all the color green brings you back. Your hero.

You fainted right into Joker’s awaiting arms. Good, it was time to go.

Just because Joker wears headphones doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of his surroundings.

He prefers heavy metal, the kind that makes old grannies croak over if they hear it. The lyrics are immoral and are literally being screamed into his ear. The bass alone can cause permanent hearing loss however Joker doesn’t mind.

It drowns out the day-to-day garble of Gotham City.

Why are so many people eager to strike up a conversation? Can’t they see Joker wants to be left alone?

Joker is not a sociable individual, and he even went out of his way to ensure he doesn’t look approachable to any bystanders.

His hair stays dyed dark green all year long and various facial piercings adorn his gloomy visage to really drive the message home; Do not talk to me.

He thought about getting tattoos, yet none resonated with him enough to commit. There wasn’t much to obsess over these days, so Joker never put any effort into trying. Caring about something required too much energy and he honestly can’t be bothered to try.

Joker keeps his head down, headphones on as he shuffles through life. Nothing more, nothing less.

Today wasn’t any different. Joker loitered around the house and noticed he didn’t have any milk. Great.

That meant a trip to the corner store aka… human interaction, something Joker avoids as much as possible.

It took him forever to look adequate for society’s suffocating standards and once he left his apartment, the doorman, the mail carrier, a neighbor, and some random old lady walking her dog just had to stop and say hello.

Then Joker looked like the bad guy for walking off without saying a word.

And that’s how he found himself walking into the local bodega caught in a state of chaos.

People were hiding behind cheap aisles of junk food; others were crouched on the floor—hands shielding their heads. Joker paid the scene little mind.

He boldly strolled past the chump waving a gun at the cashier and headed towards the row of refrigerators in the back. All he wanted was milk. None of this put the money in the bag mess.

The problem arose when Joker returned to the front and the robber pointed the gun at him.  

If only the guy would do Joker a favor and pull the trigger but when has Joker ever been lucky? Maybe someday..

Joker’s headphones were on full blast and the violent lyrics motivated him to bash the guy’s head in with the milk jug. Surprisingly, the plastic remained intact. Just a dent or two, really.

You and the other patrons watched in disbelief as Joker stepped over the unconscious robber to toss some cash onto the counter for his purchase.

“Keep the change.” Joker mumbled. He was long gone when the police arrived and started asking who the hero was.

You still didn’t know his name.

Dull, lifeless.

Tears began to escape from your eyes, the fear of them destroying the man you loved had become too much for you.

“(Y/n)…”

You opened your eyes and looked down at him, his cold hand reached up to wipe a tear from your cheek. He had a faded smile on his face as he stared up at you. He didn’t look at all shocked to see you here. Something was wrong, you got him to sit up and immediately his hand went to grip his head. He took a few moments to collect himself before he looked to you again.

“(Y/n),” his smile returned but his eyes remained clouded. “You’ve come to visit me again,” his gaze went to the clock on the wall that you were sure was broken. “But you were here only an hour ago, you should probably go home.”

You shook your head, he thought you weren’t real. What had they done to him? Your eyes moved to the machine that was in the corner of the room. You recognized it and knew what it was used for. You swallowed hard and quickly moved over to Jack, taking his hands in your own as you tried to get him to look at you.

“No, Jack. It’s really me,” you told him but he started to shake his head.

“Stop torturing me…” he whispered as a grin spread on his face. The sight of that insane smile terrified you.

“Jack, I’m not trying to hurt you. It’s really me, I’m real.” You made him look at you. “I’m here, I’m here…” his smile faded and something changed in him. His clouded eyes cleared and he looked around the room before his eyes settled on you.

“(Y/n)…” he suddenly pulled you into his arms, holding you against him. “I didn’t think I’d see you again…well the real you…”

You could hear the pain wavering in his voice, it killed you. “Frost helped me, he gave me the push I needed to come get you.”

He then shook his head, “I can’t come with you.”

“You have to,” you told him. You didn’t think you’d ever have to convince to run away with you. You thought he’d just agree with you and then the both of you would be out of this nut house.

“This is too dangerous,” he argued.

“I don’t care if it is!” You shook your head back and forth, you didn’t want to listen to this. You just wanted to leave with him, the more time you wasted, the more worried you became.

“Your father would never-”

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyes went wide at your admission. At first he was sure you’d been joking, but your expression never faltered. “(Y/n), I…”

“I don’t want our child to grow up not knowing it’s father,” you smiled sadly at him, hoping that he wouldn’t make you do this alone.

“What about your father?” He asked, his hand squeezing your own.

“I’m never going back there. Not after everything he’s put you through. We’ll leave together and never look back,” you put your hands on the sides of his face and kissed him.

He sighed and smiled at you, “You’re not lying to me, right?”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Of course not, I wouldn’t lie about something like this. I was so worried that I was never going to get a chance to tell you.”

He placed his lips against your forehead, “Well you don’t have to worry, I’m never leaving your side again. I’ll always be with you,” his hand pressed against your stomach, “Both of you.”

“Then lets get going,” you helped him stand, listening to his jolts crack. You pulled a change of clothes you’d brought for him out from your bag and waited for him to change. After he was changed, he took your hand pulled you through the asylum and outside. You’d both managed to evade the security and you were pretty glad for it.

Unfortunately, neither of you noticed the blonde who was sitting in the darkness of her car, waiting in the parking lot. She watched you and the patient she’d spent so much time with as of late. Her lipstick coated lips tipped into a smirk as she glanced down to the screen of her cell phone. She typed in the phone number and brought the device up to her ear, listening to it ring.

The two of you got into the car after Jack insisted on him driving. You didn’t really argue with him, allowing him to take the drivers seat. It didn’t take long for the asylum to disappear from view. You let out a sigh of relief before you moved your eyes to glance at Jack.

“You okay?” He asked.

You smiled and you realized that this was the happiest you’d been in months. “Yeah, I’m alright. Specially now.” You noticed the small smile on his face and that made you feel even better. “Jack…I want you to know that I’m sorry for everything that my father has done to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. But…everything’s going to be better now, I promise.”

“As all as we’re together, everything will be perfect.”

Blinding lights approached the car, you rose your hand to shield your eyes. Before you had a chance to say anything, another vehicle slammed into the car. You force of the impact sent the car rolling. The air had been stolen from your lungs and your mind couldn’t keep up with what was happening until it was too late. Your head smashed into the window, causing darkness to engulf you as you passed out.

—