(A:N/ This is my first try at a TDK fic, let me know if you like and want me to continue.)

I knew I was breathing my last bits of air when the cold metal pressed to my lips. I had done the wrong thing, said the wrong thing one too many times. I didn't cry and didn't scream, as I stood, my back pinned to the wall brick wall, with no escape but in a body bag. If anybody found my body.

"What you got nothing to say now?" He snapped, laughing slightly, "You got nothing to say now, bitch." I didn't answer him, I knew better. It was a trap, a trap that I found myself caught in on numerous occasions. I felt the edge of his knife cutting into the corner of my lip, coppery blood dripping down my mouth. "Say something!" He screeched. What did he want me to say?

"Dad, please-" I murmured, my lip cutting more as I spoke. He was finally going to do it. After nineteen years of threats, and he was finally going to kill me. No one was going to help too, she was too deep into hell. Too deep into the Narrows, where nobody called the cops, at least not the good cops.

I was going to die in the dirty alley he had brought me too. It was only a couple blocks from our rundown apartment, he said we were going to the store. But some how along the way I had set him off. I had set him off bad.

"Dad please" He mimicked, and his arm jerked upward, slicing my cheek wide open. I suppressed the scream, but still cried out pathetically into the night. My face was on fire and there was so much blood. "Don't Dad me! You're no daughter of mine." The glint in his eye told me that he was more than just drunk,

He dropped me to the ground kicking me. I refused to make a sound. Refused to plead anymore. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction in my final moments of life. He lifted me back up, put the blade to the other corner of mouth. "Tomorrow you'll be on the news. Joker's Latest Attack." He laughed, "I'll go down, identify the body. And that's it. You're nothing. I won't even be a suspect."

"You know, I, uh, really don't like copycats." The voice came out of know where. Was I hallucinating? No, my fathers face paled, and he spun around. I allowed myself to slump to the ground, I was so tired. Leaning forward, I looked down at my hands. Blood dripped into my palms in morbid pools. I heard my dad shouting, and another man speaking in almost a whisper, all words were lost to my ears.

My vision was blurring, but I struggled to stay awake. I didn't want to die. I did the first thing that came to mind, pulling off my zip up hoodie, and pressing it to my face. I settled for resting my head on my knees, to tired to hold the hoodie myself. My dad wasn't shouting anymore. I didn't want to move my head to see if he was coming back to finish the job.

Soft hands tilted my head upward, definitely not my fathers. My father had hard calloused hands from years at a dead end construction job. My vision was blurred, and I couldn't make out the mans face, as he pushed back my hair. I heard him sigh, but that was the last thing I remember, before fading into complete darkness.

I woke up to a sharp pain in my cheek, I jumped slightly, and my eyes flashed open. My eyes met with the darkest eyes I had ever seen, which were enhanced by the kohl circles around them. I was face to face with the Joker. "Oh, my god." Was all I said, staying perfectly still as he chuckled, before continuing what he was doing. Wait what was he-OW. He pierced a needle through my cheek, he was stitching my face.

"You didn't, uh, pick the best time to wake up, doll face." He said, as I took in his painted face, and grungy green hair. He wasn't wearing the purple suit or the gloves, just a white under shirt and the pants. It was weird to say the least.

"Why-"

"It's best not to talk", he interrupted, "when somebody is sewing your mouth. It makes it difficult." I was captured by the emphasis's he made in sentences, like he thought about each word carefully before he spoke. I was silent from then on, until he finished and cut the string. "Didn't mommy and daddy ever teach you not to go walking into dark and scary alleys." He teased me. I bit back a snort of laughter. His eyes narrowed slightly, "Or maybe you're used to the big and the bad?" His eyebrow arched.

"What?" I said stupidly, wincing as the stitching tugged. He didn't answer, just stood and stretched his arms above his head. There was silence for a minute before I asked, "Why did you save me?"

The Joker looked down at me, his body towering over me, "You're little 'bf'" he used air-quotes mockingly, "was going to blame me for killing you."

" He's not my boyfriend." Did I have a death wish? Why was I conversing with the number one psychopath in Gotham?

"Well," He chuckled, "Uh no, not anymore. He's dead."

I bolted upright, my eyes widening, as the Joker laughed harder. "Really?"

"Really what?" He asked, as if he had no clue what I was talking about.

"He's really dead?" I tried to keep the hope and excitement from my voice.

"Yes he's really dead." The Joker cackled slightly, watching me. I think he was expecting me to freak out, to cry, or try to run.

A small smile crept onto my face, as I thought about the meaning to this. I was free from him, actually free. No running away and him finding me, no calling the cops and them being dirty. He was dead and I was free. "Thank you."