The paint runs down the sink. I remove even the last drop of makeup. The traces vanish and the cold water on my face brings me back to reality. I look up. I´m faced with a mirror once again. But this one is clearer. I´m home. Behind the makeup my true face reappears. Who am I, though? There´s still blood running down my nose and my lip is torn. My clothes…they´re all stained with red. I take them off and toss them intto a corner in the bathroom. The shirt, the vest, even the trousers. I leave only my underwear on. I have to get rid of everything, everything that has blood on it. My hands…my hands are also covered with blood!! Oh, damn color, impossible to remove!! I wash them frantically until I erase even the last trace. What happened tonight? My eyes fall on the bag. For a second I feel hopeful. Maybe none of this was real. Maybe I just got jumped as usual and this is all my own blood. But when I open the bag, I find the gun…and it´s empty. I did indeed do it… 

Luckily mom didn´t hear me coming in. She must be fast asleep, as usual. I don´t turn any lights on. I just light a cigarette and sit down to smoke and calm myself. My hands…there´s still blood on my hands. Even if they´re no longer stained with red, I can feel the sensation of that color on my skin. My legs shake violently and I feel a laughing fit building up inside me. What have I done?

-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

I take one of the cushions from the couch and press it against my face to drown the sound of my laughter. My forehead is covered with sweat and even though I´m almost naked, I don´t feel cold. 

-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

I bend over. My jar aches from all the effort I do to hold myself together. The laughing fit shakes up all of my body. I know the walls of the building are very thin and I just hope that no one can hear me. 

Knock knock.

I get up as if I had been hit by lightning. My heart races. No…please no. Sophie?

Knock knock.

-Arthur?

My eyes are glued to the door from where her voice comes. My feet retreat until my back hits the wall behind me. The table where I sit down to write my diary is next to me. My hand holds the back of the chair, I move it aside, get down on my knees and crawl under the table, covering my ears with both hands. My body rocks back and forth maniacally. I don't want to hear that sound. Sophie…please go… I can´t touch you with these hands…

I wake up on the couch and I can´t remember how I got there. Bit by bit, I replay the events of last night in my head. I take a bath with ice cold water and shortly after, mom calls me to help her out of bed and into the living room where she turns on the TV and watches the news, like every morning. She doesn´t notice anything. It´s simply another day, just like any other. I make breakfast in the kitchen, as I always do. 

-Happy, Thomas Wayne is on TV! Come and see! They´re asking him about some horrible killing in the subway last night. 

I nearly drop my plate as I hear this. 

- Why him?- I wonder and hurry over to the TV. 

There´s Wayne. 

-The three of them were employees at Wayne Corporation. I didn´t know them in person, but to us all our employees, past and present, are family. 

-Did you hear that? He said we´re family. I told you.

-Shhh mom, I want to hear!

The faces of those three men stare at me from the screen. I recognize them right away. 

-There seems to be an anti-rich sentiment going around in the city. It´s as if the less fortunate ones are taking the side of the killer.- says the reporter who´s interviewing Wayne.

- That´s why I´m running for Mayor, Gotham´s lost its way. People may not realize it, but I´m their only hope…

- What do you make of the comments of witnesses saying that the killer was wearing a clown mask?

 - It makes total sense. Who else would do something so cold-blooded? Someone who hides behind a mask! And until those people don´t change for the better, those of us who actually did something with our lives will look at them as nothing but clowns.  

- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

- That´s not funny!- says mom, annoyed.

But it is. I light another cigarette to calm the trembling of my legs. Of course it´s funny. 

I hit the streets as usual. Except that I don´t have a job to go to anymore. I feel weird. The day is dark and the wind blows strongly, lifting the fallen leaves from the ground. I walk the streets with my hands in my pockets. Every now and then I stand still, I feel like somebody is following me. I turn around but there´s no one there. I continue down the streets and find a group of people crowding around a newspaper stand. I walk over to them. The menacing face of a clown stares at me from all the newspaper covers. 

“Killer clown murders three men.”

I observe that image, fearing it might look anything like me. But it doesn´t. It´s a sketch, a clown with huge, sharp teeth. 

“Triple murder. Clown on the run.”

There´s clowns everywhere. People comment. Some say it was a man in a mask, others say it was just makeup. Everyone seems to have their own theory and nobody´s speaking about anything else. Each corner I pass, I see more and more newspapers. The headlines are many, but they all refer to the same incident.  

“Vigilante clown” 

“Vendetta against the rich”

It´s strange…the world doesn´t know I exist, to be honest, for a long time not even I knew if I really existed. But I do, and people are starting to notice. They´re all talking about me and they don´t even know who I am. The paranoid feeling that was holding onto me for a moment starts to fade away and I begin to feel something else…there´s a vague sensation of satisfaction that comes and goes. Yes, there´s someone walking with me, although not behind me…but rather inside me…I can feel it.   

-Happy, I wrote another letter for Thomas Wayne. I need you t mail it tomorrow. Can you do that?

I don´t feel like dealing with Thomas Wayne right now.

-Yes, mom.

I help her get to bed and come back to the living room. Mom left the envelope on the table. She forgot to seal it. I pick it up. What on earth does she write to Thomas Wayne? I hesitate for a second but curiosity gets the better of me. I open it and unfold the paper. Even though I read all the way through the letter, my eyes fix only on a few sentences. 

Dear Thomas…

…we need your help…

…you´re our only hope…

…your son and I…

I stop. I must have gotten it wrong.

…your son and I…we need you…

What´s this? Your son? Son?

…I´ve done a good job raising him…he´s always so happy…but he needs you…

…I love you…Penny.

I read through the letter three times. Me?? Son of Thomas Wayne? That´s impossible…why did she never tell me? All these years she never said anything!! She knew how badly I needed a father, how much I longed to know who he was and why he had left!! Why, mom?? Why??

-Mom!!!!

I´m surprised at my own rage as my fist hits the door. Mom locks herself up in the bathroom. 

-Calm down!!

-Mom, open the door!!

-I´m not talking to you until you calm down!!

I breathe. I breathe.

-Alright…alright. I´ve calmed down.

I lean my forehead against the door. 

-Mom…is this true? I need to know…

There´s nothing but silence for a while.

-Thomas Wayne is an extraordinary man, Happy…he´s a very powerful man. We were very in love. But you know…we had to keep up the appearances. They made me sign some papers. We couldn´t be together. You know what they would´ve said about me…what they´d say about you…

- What would they say, mom?

Would they despise me? They already do. Would they mock me, look down on me? They already do all of that.  

A man like Wayne, rich and powerful, how could he be the father of someone…like this…like me? If Wayne is my father, why did he abandon me? Why didn´t he want me? Why did he never try to find me? Maybe it was because of my condition? I always knew my father had abandoned me, but I never knew who he was or why he had left. I always wished for a dad, someone who´d love me and hold me…someone who´d feel proud of me. 

Maybe Wayne doesn´t know I exist…

Would he be happy to meet me? I wonder what he´d say…

I need to find out…