He pressed his head against the cool glass of the bathroom mirror, allowing his breath to fog the glass. His mind was working furiously and tingled were running up and down his spine.
He meditated for a moment, focusing on his breathing and keeping his mind calm. There was that thought. “Calm”. He could never be calm, or was it that he was always inwardly calm? He wouldn’t know until the transformation was complete.
He pulled his face away from the mirror and studied it closely.
“I know how you got those scars,” he muttered to the reflection, “I know.” He laughed; a high giggle that filled the tile room and caused the neighbor’s dog to bark pitifully.
He turned and glared out the small, high window. “Shut Up!” He shrieked at the dog, the he giggled again, this time more quietly. He didn’t want the Batman to find him. No, no, he did. The Batman was fun, and he liked fun. He licked his lips, and then he pulled the carving knife from its sheath where it was lying on the commode.
“Bottoms up,” he said gutturally as he ran his tongue along the broad side of the knife. He liked the feel of the cold steel in his hot mouth.
“I am the Joker,” he murmured, closing his teeth on the knife. Icy spikes ran from his teeth to the base of his spine, “Yes I am.”
He was the SUPERFAN. Heath Ledger’s legacy was to be his alone, and he would follow him to the ends of the earth.
He grinned at the face in the mirror.
“You wanna know how I got these scars?” He said, menacingly, “I’ll tell you.”
He rested the blade of the knife in the soft flesh of his right cheek.
“I like the pain!” He shouted, drawing the knife up in an arc, cutting his lips and cheek back into a sort of half-wicked smile.
He licked the blood flowing from the area and spread it on his lips.
“Nice, very nice,” he sputtered, Blood flowing down his chin, “Now, to smile forever!”
He swung the knife around and cut into his left cheek.
“Two down!” he cried, happily, smattering the mirror with blood. He put down the knife and ran his fingers along the whole length of his new, altered mouth. His nerves stung and burned as they were compressed by his fingers and exposed to the elements, but he did not feel them. He was in ecstasy.
He was perfect; He was beautiful.
“Oh, yesh,” he said, blood trailing down his chin in a stream of bubbles and dripping thickly into the sink.
“Yes, this is how I got the scars.”
Quadara Boom Community Member 
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