Mad Love <3
Her name drips from Lucifer’s lips and envelops her in the nightmare she can never escape. There’s blood everywhere. Beads of red staining the carpet and acting as breadcrumbs to lead to the soaked through bed sheets and crimson marked woman huddled in the middle of all the chaos. She hears his footsteps, quiet and calculating, as the door creaks open and she’s left on pins and needles for the looming figure to reveal itself.
‘Oh, Harley Quinnnn…’ she trembles at the voice, and does the only thing she thinks she can do.
He comes in and stops at the foot of the bed, blood smeared across his Glasgow grin like warpaint. His shredded mouth makes a tiny ‘o’ shape as he wordlessly questions the sight placed before him. It appears his little clown girl has grabbed the telephone and has begun unsteadily punching numbers with a tinted red fingertip.
She’s crying and crying and her mouth is bleeding and bleeding yet she doesn’t make a sound. The blood seeping through the sleeve of her tattered jacket is both that of her own and someone else’s. She feels as if she’s going to be sick.
‘And just who are you calling?’ he questions as his tongue nudges past his lip to prod at his bloodied grin.
‘Gordon,’ she says in hushed tones, ‘They need to know where you put the bodies.’
‘Harleen, where are they? Where is he keeping them?’ he growls at her, the man in the mask with the black rimmed gaze. He bears down upon old bruises from where her lover’s grabbed her once before but he fails in reaching through past the looking glass to the girl cradled inside.
She simply stares at him when the bombs sound off and the light reflects in the bat man’s eyes. There had been three of them; a man, a woman and a child, to prove not even innocence can withstand the malevolence of such a cruel world, he’d said to her the night before.
She’d seen it before. The life drain out from someone’s eyes, that is, and had become somewhat immune to it. This time, though…this time was different.
He shoves her aside just then and takes off to the abandoned building three blocks away, casting her out of the way like the spoiled painted doll she knows she is.
‘Oh, baby-girl. Sweet little harlequin…’ he coos as she hangs up the phone and dials again. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed at this point and she wonders for a moment when it was he’d grabbed her face in his blood-spattered grip. He takes a look at her; the corner of her mouth is sliced a quarter of an inch in, a punishment she’d decided for herself based on her newly recognized disposition on the value of human life. She hadn’t finished though. She couldn’t work up the nerve to mirror his mocking grin and believe she was just like him.
Cold, fathomless eyes stare into watery, baby blues.
‘Now you know you can’t do that, puddin’…you know you’re just as guilty as I am.’
A drop of blood paces itself down her cut cheek and she can hear the phone begin to ring in her ear. Blood stained clothes, bullets through flesh, pitiless torture and ransom notes with childlike kisses and hugs. He was the devil, and she was his willing sacrifice.
She thinks, just then as they gaze back at each other, that maybe this is who she really is and always has been. That maybe this was destiny or fate’s cruel joke upon the world.
With one shuddering breath, she hangs up the phone.
And really, that’s all it was. One, big joke.