So, here's the end. Of book one, of course. I've gotta say, thanks sooo much for all of the support I've gotten from all of you, especially those of you who've reviewed each chapter and commented. You small handful know who you are!!

Thanks for the reviews, the author alerts, the story alerts, all that jazz. It's made me sooo happy to write here!
I'll update with the sequel soon!! I'm already halfway through with it, so updates should be quick.

Reviews are my homeboys. ... something like that...

Epilogue

It was here that screams crawled up the walls, begging to be released. It was here that fear was a lifestyle, not an emotion. It was here that sugar plums dancing 'round your head was a fact, and sedatives were common. It was here that grime and mildew became a part of the upholstery. It was here that murderers lurked and mad men roamed in padded cells and starched, white jackets. It was here that if you weren't quick, you were dead.

It was here that The Joker resided. It was here that he sat, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for the straight jacket. It was here that he plotted, his chaotic mind swirling with endless possibilities of ways to escape. It was here that he smiled, the Cheshire sneer curling up around his cheeks, stretching the scars around his red mouth. It was here that The Joker laughed.

They couldn't contain him for long. He could go in and out of the insane asylum like a man stuck in a revolving door, but he never stayed for long. They couldn't keep him here. Their backwards sense of "justice" kept him alive, and kept him well. No, they couldn't kill a man who didn't know what he was doing.

Oh, but The Joker did know. He knew exactly what he was doing as he rolled his eyes, glaring balefully at the bright white room. He knew what he was doing before he had even begun to murder; it was a part of him. It was like breathing air. There was no planning, there was no point. He just did it.

He just lived.

And no one, not even the cement walls he leaned against could stop him from living. Only one man could have the right to kill him, and it was the one man who never would.

The Joker let his smile widen as he suddenly began ramming his head against the cement wall, cackling. There was a red flashing light above the holding cell's door, and in rushed the orderlies, their faces set in determination. A large guard followed, a gun in hand as the blurs of white began struggling against him, their yells echoing around the nearly bare room. The Joker struggled, his face distorted into a satanic leer as he repeatedly slammed his head against the wall, not in a fit of insanity, but a fit of excitement.

Yes, The Joker thought, soon… very soon.

Dr. Harley Quinn smiled as she adjusted her glasses on the bride of her nose. She was being given the case of a lifetime, and she could hardly contain herself. Excitement made her laugh slightly before she turned on her professional attitude and opened the door in front of her.

"Well hello, beautiful."

Ah, there you go. Yes, Harley will be in the next one. I've read a lot about her, so I'm pretty excited. Reviews are still welcome, haha.