Chapter Eighteen

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Joker’s P.O.V

I walked up the stairs, feeling extremely proud. Jack was coming along nicely. Of course, I never let him know this, because then he might not try hard, but honestly, he’s coming along much faster than I did. I could thank River for that. If it wasn’t for her brain, Jack would not have come about, and what I had wanted to achieve in my lifetime would have not been achieved. It still won’t be, but that’s why Jack is here; so he can continue on my work for another thirty years.

I was excited. Tonight was the first night I was going to take my son out to cause some chaos. He was going to kill for the first time. I grinned. Normally, I would have a hard time containing my excitement and wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Well, not this time. This time I had River to entertain me.

I walked into my bedroom and called out her name. I noticed the bathroom door was shut. I smirked, then walked over. I was about to knock on the door, but slipped. Luckily, I didn’t fall, but regained my balance. What the hell did I slip on. I looked down, and my heart almost stopped. Blood. There was blood leaking out under the bathroom door. My eyes widened and I looked at the closed bathroom door in what I knew was horror. No….she wouldn’t.

I slammed my fist onto the bathroom door and started yelling.

“River! River, open up! Open the door! RIVER!” I grabbed the door knob and rattled it, my heart hammering hard in my chest. It was locked. She wasn’t answering. Backing up, I grabbed my gun from inside of my jacket and fired at the lock. It blew a hole in the door. Slowly, I raised a trembling hand and pushed the door open. I froze. The bathroom floor was soaked in blood. River lay in the bathtub, one arm hanging over the side of the tub, the other floating in the now blood filled bathtub. Her normal pale skin was now almost see-through, and her eyes had sunken into her head. Her mouth was slightly open, and her eyes had a glazed over look to them.

Slowly, I walked over to her, hoping inanely that she wasn’t dead. As I got closer, I could see the blood runs leading from her wrist onto her hand. Nothing more was coming out. I shakily took off my glove and placed it on her skin. She was cold. Colder than any human should be. I placed my fingers to her neck, still holding onto that last shred of hope.

There was no heart beat.

She was dead.

River was dead.

Jack’s P.O.V

I grinned as my father walked up the stairs. I could tell he was proud of me. However, the smile slipped off my face as I remembered my mother, and what I had said to her. It wasn’t true, at all. I loved my mother, more than anything. She’d always been there for me when I needed her; when my father had gone too far and made me cry, she’d been there. She’d comforted me. And then I threw it in her face. I would definitely need to apologise to her later. Preferably before dad took me out tonight. Sighing, I softly touched the wounds on my face. Dad had made them look just like his, the right one curving slightly higher than the left one. He’d stitched them up messily, telling me that he had to in order to make me look like him.

I sighed again, taking my hand away and instead running it through my hair. I hadn’t wanted dad to carve my face up. But I knew if I didn’t, he’d be angry. And I don’t like it when he’s angry. Because I get hurt. I could give him a good fight if I wanted to, but…..well, I couldn’t. He’s my father. It’s not right to hit our parents.

Just then, I heard yelling. Cocking my ears, I zoned in on it.

“River! Open the door! River!” I frowned. My father didn’t sound angry or sadistic like he usually does…..he sounded….desperate….

Then there was a gunshot.

Did something happen to mom?

My eyes widened.

I bounded up the stairs, praying that what I had said to mother did not drive her to hurt herself. I stopped outside my parents’ bedroom door. Father had always made it very clear that I was not permitted to be in there. However, that rule flew out the window when I heard a broken sob. My fists clenched together painfully, and I made my way into the bedroom. And stopped. The bathroom door was wide open, and there was my father…..clutching my mother’s blood covered body to him. He was sobbing. Never, in my life, would I expected to see my father so weak.

That was when the reality hit me. He was crying. My dad was crying. Over my mother, who was hanging limply in his arms. My mother was dead. What I had said to her had driven her to kill herself. The gunshot I heard must have been used to blow the lock off the door, judging by the giant hole that was where the door knob should have been. I turned and walked out the door, and didn’t stop until I was in my own room. Breathing heavily, I let out a piercing bawl and slammed my fist into the wall, making a dent.

It was a wooden wall. I looked at my hand and saw the disfigurement of broken bones.

I didn’t even feel the physical pain.

The only pain I felt was emotional. I had killed my mother. She was gone. All that was left was my father….I would experience no more love for as long as I lived. With that in mind, I let myself slip to the ground, burying my face in my hands. And I cried. I cried and cried and cried.

I would never see my mom again.

That was when I lost it. Everything in my sight I destroyed. The bed was ripped apart, the lamp was smashed, the mirror was shattered. My body was bruised and cut in places I didn’t even know I had. I sat in the middle of the room, dried tears caked on my face. The door opened, and I saw my father. His makeup had runs in it from where tears had fallen, and his clothes were covered in blood; my mother’s blood. My eyes narrowed. Now I know what he was teaching me. He was teaching me to hate; to kill.

It was his fault my mother had died. I said what I said because of him.

And now he was going to die.

I slowly stood up, cracking my knuckles, not even paying attention to the broken ones. He scrutinized me, and then I couldn’t believe it; he grinned.

He gave me such a sadistic, excited grin, I almost vomited. He had wanted this. He wanted me to kill him.

Well, he certainly was going to get his wish.

Joker’s P.O.V

He stood up slowly, and I could see the intent in his eyes. I could see the murder, the thirst for blood.

So this is what it took. This is the extra push he needed to make him like me. I grinned. This way, I could kill two birds with one stone; well, he could. He would become like me, and kill me at the same time.

I couldn’t live in a world where River did not exist. I knew that.

But, I wouldn’t be easy on him. I’d fight with every ounce of will power I had.

But, he would beat me. I knew he would. He was smarter than me, even at ten. I grabbed my favourite flick knife from my pocket, and opened it. This was gonna be good.

I walked into the room, circling him like a predator would with its prey. He didn’t flinch. In fact, he started circling me as well. The menace in him surpassed even my own. Oh yes, he was going to make a mighty fine Joker.