I woke up dazed and confused. It was pitch black outside and my mouth was dry. I turned over and winced with pain as the side of my head touched the pillow. What the hell? Then I remembered. His fist connecting with my temple. I frowned. No one hit me like that. No one. The pain was gone for the most part, and someone had taken off my bandages too. I sat up, then fell back again when a wave of dizziness hit me. Come on, Harley. It's not that hard to get out of bed. I sat up this time, slowly, and lifted my arms up to inspect them. They were a pure white, like snow. I inhaled sharply. I lifted up the blanket and slid out of the bed so that my legs were dangling out. I was wearing some sort of hospital gown, but that wasn't what I was interested in right now.
My legs. They were the same colour, a milky white. A sickening white. My face. Oh Jesus, my face. I scrambled up in a panic and for the first time, fully comprehended my situation. I wasn't Harleen Quinzel anymore. She was long gone. I was Harley Quinn. Inexplicably, I grinned. And it wasn't a nice one. He had done this to me, so I might as well be the perfect psycho. All I needed to do, all I needed to let go of, was that last remnant of sanity that was clinging to me. That voice of reason which begged me to run out of this place and find my parents and find the police and find a hospital.

I looked around the room. The carpet was a deep red, and the walls were painted white. A small white dresser was at the side of the bed, along with a mirror. I approached it cautiously, my feet sinking into the carpet. My breath caught when I saw myself. Yes, I thought, yes there was no place for reason anymore. Look at me. I grinned at my own pale face and blue eyes, my pink and blue hair tipped hair. My hand came up instinctively to my face, and I touched the smooth, soft skin on my cheeks. I wasn't burnt, just bleached. How fitting, if my skin was bleached, then it might as well bleach out all that was left of Harleen Quinzel. Let her go. I stared at myself. Let your sanity go. I smiled and closed my eyes. For the first time in my life I opened that door in my mind, the one where you keep all of your darkest thoughts, those terrible thoughts which society says only belong to evil people. I opened Pandora's box and let those thoughts swarm my mind. She deserved it. I would like to kill him. If only the bus would move a little to the left. I want them to die. Sanity, the bare bones of it that were left in my mind, disappeared. I opened my eyes. There was a glimmer in my eyes now, the light of evil showing itself. Let society fuck itself. I was on the other team now.

But there was another matter at hand. The joker, if he thought he could just, just treat me like that, he was wrong. I clenched my fists. Oh I loved that man, but sometimes you have to stand your own ground. I looked to the wooden door in the corner of the room. There it was, the door to my new life. With a flick of my hair, I walked up to it and swung it open, before marching through into a huge expanse of a living room. The jokers bright green hair immediately caught my attention. He was just sitting there, gazing at a huge glass window that overlooked the dark green sea.

"Mr J." He didn't turn around.

"I thought you were awake. I was waiting for you." He got up, and grinned at me. Everything melted away. Almost.

"You...you hit me." He frowned, shocked that I would question his actions.

"Would you rather I hadn't" He stepped towards me menacingly, purple shirt on now, unbuttoned at the top, tattoos jet black against his pale white skin, arms wide open. "Would you rather I left you there screaming in pain until your own brain started to shut off?" He was in front of me now, hands clenched over my face, daring me to look into his eyes. "I could have. Maybe I should have. I did it for you, Harley" It made sense, everything else just fell away and I accepted his logic, his story.

"By the way, you need to stop calling me Mr J. Not appropriate for our relationship, isn't it?" He laughed manically.

"No" I grinned, and then pouted. "What exactly is our relationship?"

The Joker stepped forward and closed the gap between us. His hand came up and he cupped my chin, then dragged down my lower lip with his thumb. He leaned forward as if he was going to bite it, then drew back and smiled. My eyes fluttered and I realised that I was holding my breath. I exhaled, then let my hand slide across his chest, my fingers gliding atop his jet black tattoos. He looked down at my hand, teeth bared but not moving.

"You know, Mr...J, I really do wonder what you look like underneath this shirt."

His head flicked up towards the ceiling and he laughed.

"Now, now, Harley, we can't be that forward. People would get the wrong idea." He gazed down at me with that guarded, yet open, look. I drew back and raised an eyebrow.

"What, then, is the right idea?" I inquired.

He paused, then grinned. "There's no right and wrong. This can be whatever it wants to be."

I frowned, then smiled and looked up at him. "I want it to be...bad."

He smirked. "So do I."

Then he turned, and walked out. I watched him go, then collapsed on the couch, waiting for my heart to slow down.