The Joker Imagines

Breakup

Imagine breaking up with the Joker

You paced the plush floors of the room you and he shared. You chewed on your already short fingernails. You had been dreading this for awhile.

He had been distant for about a year now. You had been in a relationship with him for about 5 years when he saved you from getting caught by Batman while robbing a bank. It had been amazing, being in a relationship with him. But lately, the Joker hadn't been around to show you any affection at all, and he was emotionally and physically abusive. Every time he came home from an unsuccessful attempt at robbing a bank or something, he would take it out on you, and then later try to make it better.

Well you'd had enough of all of it. You'd spent too many nights crying yourself to sleep, alone. You'd made too many trips to the hospital with critical wounds. And to top it all off, about one week ago, you'd caught him cheating on you with his ex; Harley Quinn.

So, here you were, pacing. Thinking about how you were going to do it. You decided that you were too afraid to do it to his face; he might beat you to death. But you didn't want to disrespect all the good parts of the relationship by breaking up over text. That was just shallow.

So you decided to leave a long note on the bed where he could find it. You don't know when he would find it since he never came home anymore. You actually had stronger relationships with the goons that stopped by to check on you then the Joker himself.

You quickly walked over to the desk in the right-hand corner of the room. There was a pad of paper sitting on the desk, with a clean sheet on top. There was a little cup with pens and pencils and strangely enough, a knife in it. You took the black pen in the middle and grabbed the notepad. You took them back to the huge bed in the center of the room and jumped up onto it.

You took a deep breath and began to write your letter.

My dear Mr. J,
I'm writing this letter to you instead of doing this in person; O thought it would be too hard. I really love you Mr. J, but I just can't do it anymore. When you look at me, there's no longer that light that used to be there. You haven't kissed me or even touched me in at least 7 months. I sleep alone. I see your goons more than I see you. And when I do see you, you're either yelling at me or beating me. I've woken up in the hospital with critical wounds and nobody there beside my bed. I've gone to therapist after therapist and none have been able to help me. Most nights, I hardly sleep because of my crying. I can't take it anymore. And that's why I can't be in this relationship anymore. I'm sorry. Maybe I'll see you in a few years when I've healed. But not for a long time. I truly, truly love you, my Mr. J.
                             Best wishes, (Y/N)

By the time you finished, tears were sliding down your cheeks and some splattering onto the paper, causing the ink to spread and parts of the blue lines to fade. You sniffed and tore the paper out of the notepad and set it in the middle of the golden silk blanket.

You got up and set the notepad and pen on the bedside table. You wiped your tears away and decided that you'd done enough crying over this man, and that it was time to stop. Now you had to pack. Before you did any packing, you found a golden suitcase with the letter "J" embroidered into it. You didn't like the painful memory, but it was the only one you owned.

You walked to the closet and opened the massive doors to reveal the bedazzled walk-in closet. You walked straight to the back wall with all of your clothes and shoes. The other walls had his clothes and shoes, which were more numerous than yours.

You had about 25 outfits crammed onto the rack and maybe 20 pairs of shoes beneath them. Along with these, you had 5 or 6 lingerie outfits that the Joker had made specially for you.

Your eyes began to well up with tears again, but you took a deep breath and focused on getting out of there.

You took all of the expensive clothing and stuffed them into the large suitcase. You then grabbed a duffel bag that was black with gold zippers and tried to fit all of your shoes into that.

When you finally got everything that was useful or of value to you, you took a deep breath and made your way down the spiraling staircase and got to the door. You took one last, longing look of the beautiful home and opened the door to start a new life.

To be continued...

Hi! Thank you so much for getting me to 50 reads in under 2 weeks! I'm very happy that people like/read my material! There will be a part two to this one too.

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Word Count: 900 words