Why so serious

I feel my eyes bulge in terror as a hand clamps over my mouth from behind. My heart begins to pound with such ferocity I fear it will beat a hole in my chest. I feel my body thrum with adrenaline and a scream begin to build. Suddenly the world is spinning and I realize my attacker has turned me to face him.

The hand has been removed from my mouth, but still, the alleyway is silent because the mounting scream has been strangled in my fear-stiffened throat. At first my mind rejects the image it is being presented, but slowly it comes to grasp the situation. I’m still in shock as he begins to chuckle. The sound is dark and full of menace.

“Hello there, beautiful,” he licks his reddened lips and grins. “You know, it’s not safe to be out this late at night alone. Let me walk you home.” He laughs, grabs my arm and jerks me in close to his face. I stare at his infamous scars, tinted strangely by the dim light at the mouth of the alley. He notices and his lips twitch into a smile as a strange light begins to dance in his eyes.

“Do wanna know how I got these scars? Well, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise me something first.” His breathing is ragged and the smile remains as he reaches up to smooth back his hair and for the first time, I notice a knife glinting in his right hand.

“You’ve got to promise me that you won’t scream, little chickadee. You’ve got to promise me that you’ll keep your pretty little mouth closed.” As he says it, he squeezes my lips together with gloved fingers and pulls my face even closer until we are just inches apart.
“Are you going to be a good, silent little chickadee,” His breath is hot against my face and reeks of neglect. Instinctively, I pull back and try to look away. He jerks my head back towards his face and I struggle against his grip. “Look at me!” he barks. The suddenness and force of it scares me back into obedience and as I freeze again, he puts his knife to my mouth. I feel the cool metal press into my flesh and fear thrills through my limbs as I wait to feel the blade’s painful bite.

“Or are we going to have to do something about your little voice box?” He traces his knife down my throat until he reaches the hollow impression between my collarbones. He lingers, staring with a look of pure longing and I’m positive he’s going to end it right here. But suddenly, his trance breaks and his eyes flick back to my horrified face. His smile widens and I feel the return of his knife to my mouth.

“Good. So, where was I? Oh, right. So, I had this lovely girlfriend. Looked a lot like you actually.” He licks his lips and presses the knife in slightly harder against my mouth. “She was a joker, that one. She loved to tell jokes. I could always count on her to cheer me up! She would always ask, always say, ‘Why so serious?’ and then she’d make a joke. She also happened to have the loveliest hair. Exactly like yours. Black as raven’s wings, thin as a willow’s wisp.” At this, he roughly runs his hand through my hair until his left hand reaches the back of my neck. He pushes the blade in even harder and I whimper in pain as I feel the blade just barely break the skin at the corner of my mouth.

His eyes light up with pleasure and he continues his story, “Just thinking of that lovely hair made me smile. I would walk around at home, smiling and thinking of her hair.” As he speaks, he tilts his head back, grins and closes his eyes. He stops and stays like that for a moment, and then he slowly opens his eyes and lowers head. As his eyes open, I notice a new malice that was not there a moment ago.

“Now, you see, daddy was a bit of drinker. Liked to take happy hour home and ‘share’ it with my mother and I. One night, he’s in a particular fit. He’s just thrown mommy-dearest into a dresser. She’s laying sprawled out on the floor, her hair splayed in every-which way. I’m reminded of a certain someone’s beautiful, flowing hair. And I smile.” His lids have drooped back down and are half-covering black eyes and he smiles maniacally. Holding the crazy expression, he continues, “Daddy doesn’t like that at all. He gets a kitchen knife, shoves me against a wall and says ‘You like smilin’, huh? Well, then let’s put a smile on that face!’” He imitates a deep, rough voice and sets his mouth in a grim line as he mimics his father and hisses out the last word.

He leans in really close. I’m so focused on the story and the proximity I don’t notice the blood now flowing down my left cheek. And the blood still in my body is pounding so hard in my ears that I barely hear his whisper, “And do you know what happens next?” And nothing in the world will keep me from finding out the answer.

I feel the sharpest, most excruciating pain in the world as the skin of my left cheek is cut into an eternal smile. I feel a repeat of the pain on my right cheek and hear the maniacal laughter of The Joker. As my life slowly drains away and flows down to the ground, I hear him whisper, “Goodnight, chickadee,” and feel him release my neck. I fall, in seemingly slow motion, towards the dirty pavement of the alley. The last thing I’m ever going to see, is the swish of purple coattails as my murderer calmly leaves me lying in an alley…