Her trembling hand reached for the open cupboard.

Paracetamol, Codeine, Zoloft, Proxan, her hand brushed over all of the bottles in her cabinet, even the unnamed boxes that were stolen from Gotham Hospital.

She wasn't supposed to have those boxes, he didn't want her to, but she pocketed them anyway. She pushed them all into her hands; all of the chalky little circles, inhaling the pills as if they were common cough drops.

One pill for the pain, one pill for the misery, she wished she had something that would make her stop loving him. Hell, she'd even settle for something to get rid of her memories, then maybe she wouldn't remember how he made her feel. She wished she could forget the butterflies in her stomach or the twisted smile on his face as he raised his fist.

Harley closed the cupboard; her likeness stared back at her from behind the shattered, mirror-covered doors.

She flinched and turned her face away.

She hated her reflection; she hated her face…. she hated herself.

Ever since she joined him, she couldn't bear to look at herself in the mirror. It wasn't because she regretted joining him; the best decision she had ever made was springing Mr. J from Arkam Asylum. When she allowed him to escape, she too was free from the shackles of her boring, mediocre life as Harleen Quinzel. But now she couldn't look at herself without seeing every bruise and every cut, symbols of the new shackles she was placed in.

Her own brain was turning on her, forming chains that added to the existing restraints. Her once pretty face was replaced by the image of a merciless echo of her past self, who's favourite past time was attacking Harley's optimism and bringing her to tears.

"You're a filthy slut, that's why he would never want you" The reflection screamed back at her, twisting and turning into a cruel demon until the face staring back at her wasn't even her own.

"It was all your fault…"

Those words cut the deepest.

Harley screamed in pain, swivelling her head in a desperate attempt to escape her own mind. She was trapped, the horrible words covered her thoughts like the bars from the asylum she escaped from. She writhed and squirmed, her knuckles white from gripping onto the dirty sink in front of her.

"Shut-up…. Shut up… SHUT UP!" Harley screamed, finally breaking. She fell to the bathroom floor, gasping for breath.

If this were a romantic drama, her prince charming would have rushed through the door at that very moment, bundling her up in his arms and assuring that everything was going to be all right. But this wasn't a romantic movie. There was no prince to come and save her from the world, her "prince" was the one who was inflicting this hell upon her.

And the worst part? She still loved him.

"Stop your crying!" Yelled a voice from behind the door, "You can hear everything through the walls in this Goddamn building!"

He forcefully rattled the doorknob, trying to open it.

"S,S, Sorry Puddin" She managed to stammer out, " I'll stop, truly, just don't come in"

Her hand flew to her mouth, she shouldn't have said the last part. The last time Harley tried to tell him not to do something she ended up with a broken nose and a death toll of eighty civilians on her hands.

The banging on the door became louder and with every purposeful shove the cheap, motel hinges became looser. He was screaming profanities in between his timed pushes as if creating a sickening rhythm.

Curse…

Shove….

Curse…

Shove…

Harley could hear her heat pounding in her chest, her shaking legs slowly found their way and she backed into a corner. She grabbed a razor for protection; and laughed at how little it would help. But she had to do something, her battered and broken face couldn't withstand another beating. Only a certain amount of blood could be shed in one night before she would crack.

The door fell to the floor with a deafening crash. The wind seemed to be knocked out of Harley as if she was a balloon that had been popped, and she held the razor out with a quivering hand.

The Joker laughed.

"As if you could hurt me" He cackled, knocking the razor out of her hand with a single swipe. "I'd like to see you try, bitch. Come on! Try to fight back!"

He shoved her against the empty doorframe, his hands gripping her collarbones. Harley let out a small whimper, too terrified to scream amidst her sobs. She could feel his warm breath against her cheek, and the sickly smell of whiskey and cigarettes burned through her nostrils.

"Come on, fight back… hit me, I dare you"

She shoved him, hard, as hard as she could manage. Grabbing the nearest coat she sprinted to the motel door.

"Get away from me!" She screamed, trying to open the lock with her shaking hands.

The joker ran up behind her, entangling his fingers in her knotted hair. He pulled at it, twisting her tear-stained face to meet his.

"Where are you planning to go bitch?" His words were starting to slur as the alcohol kicked in. "Nobody in this whole damn city wants you! So where are you going to go? To the police? To the Batman?" He burst into a taunting cackle.

His hand kept a tight grip on her hair and he turned her face away from him.

"You're disgusting," He said and shoved her face as hard as he could into the wooden doorframe.

Blood gushed down Harley's face, her nose was smashed and she couldn't see out of her left eye. She sprinted out of the door, leaving the joker and the curses he was screaming behind her. She could only get down a couple of steps before collapsing into a bloody heap, and was forced to crawl down the last of the motel steps.

After gaining her strength back, Harley ran down the street. The flickering streetlights became arrows of light as her vision blurred. She ran and ran; exasperatingly picking herself up every time she collapsed. Until she just couldn't do it anymore and crumpled into a sobbing mass, her screams echoing around her.