Chapter 2 Chapter 2

In fact, not only the disobedient black doctor who was ready to inform on other criminals in Gotham did not survive until the next morning, but also Mary Miller, the fat, greasy woman who was full of lies.

The house was not hers at all. The owner went abroad, and she 'walked into the wrong house' one day and found that the owner was not there, so she took it for herself. She was a woman who loved gambling and drinking. She sold all the valuables in the house, but used the house as her secret base.

After being hired by the clown, she did what the clown said - taking care of the child, cooking and cleaning. She just didn't care whether the child ate or not. After finishing her own work, she took his money to go out and play cards. When she came back and saw the child's uneaten food, she threw it out the door.

There were no trash cans on that street, so if you threw some food or something, someone would come to "deal with it" quickly. However, those people didn't dare to provoke Miller. They wanted to see what she was doing recently. After all, she became so fat because she had some shady businesses and some connections with some small managers. During the years when she was at the peak of her ambition, she dealt with many ignorant boys.

But her self-proclaimed glory and worthless life ended on this night.

Miller was just a small figure. Even after her death, countless people tried to fill the gap and divide her business opportunities. No fool in Gotham would stand up for an insignificant person. After all, even the Blue Boys didn't do that. Perhaps her greatest presence after her death was the signature of the medical examiner on the autopsy form.

How did he die?

——Shot to death.

Okay, that's all right, next one.

The Joker is too familiar with Gotham and its people. Shooting is the most common thing, and people die like this every day. The Blue Boys don't have the energy to track down every clue. They can be considered to have done their duty by taking a look at the social relationships of the deceased and simply judging the cause of death. Of course, this is just to make their year-end report documents look better.

But Miller should be thankful that she was clear-headed and did not disobey his orders too much, nor did she reveal the matter. Otherwise, she would not have died so quickly and without torture, and her body would not be intact.

He returned before daybreak. The lights in the black clinic were dim, and the patients who recuperated and underwent surgery shared the same bed. However, beds were in short supply before, and patients with only minor problems did not receive the same treatment as they do now. They either had to sit on the floor or become the living supply of the black doctors. But now, even patients who fainted from hunger could lie on the bed.

The clown sat on a chair beside the bed, his legs crossed and his chin supported by his hand, half of his body sunk in the dim shadows. It was unknown what he was thinking about. At some point, he raised his eyes slightly, and his expression changed almost instantly.

His face was torn into several deep wrinkles because of the exaggerated and ferocious expression. He moved closer to the child and knew that she had woken up, but still had her eyes closed.

She wasn't pretending to sleep, she was simply refusing to interact with anyone or anything in the outside world. However, her current state wasn't good at all. Her small body was curled up, and stomach cramps caused her to move from time to time, probably due to the aftereffects of not eating for a long time.

He could tell just by listening that hunger was causing excessive gastric acid secretion and gastric reflux. Weak children sometimes reflux bubbling liquid, which expands and can cause suffocation and difficulty breathing if not careful. She was in this state now. In order to avoid suffocation, she tried hard to swallow the bubbling liquid, and her breathing became more rapid.

She neither called for help nor spit out the fluid. The blood in the IV tube on the back of her hand was flowing back. She even went hungry and thirsty for several days, but she didn't care about anything, as if she was determined to die.

She was immersed in her own world waiting to die.

And what the clown does is - it doesn't matter if she doesn't open her eyes, he will help her open her eyelids, and that's all.

There was some blood on the gloves, which stained the child's face. She was forced to open one eye but still tried her best to close it, so only the white of her eye could be seen.

But when he exerted force with his fingers again, forcing her to look at him, the clown suddenly swung out the scalpel from the clinic with his other hand, and the tip of the knife stabbed towards her at an extremely fast speed, and finally was only half a centimeter away from her green pupil.

"Oh, don't close your eyes, or it will accidentally penetrate your eyelids and fall into your eye socket..."

"And then? Then your eyeballs will burst like balloons filled with water, spilling out water and blood. If you're even less lucky, the knife will pierce your brain. What will you scream then? One-eyed man? Hahahahahahaha!"

"No! It's a dead person."

The clown was telling his jokes, his pale face looking extremely scary. He loosened his hand that was holding up the child's eyelids, but his other hand holding the knife accidentally slipped down, and perhaps the tip of the knife was only a millimeter away from her eyeball.

But unfortunately, she still had no expression or emotions, but her eyes were open and no longer stubbornly closed. He regretted that he could not cut open her eyelids, and when her eyes were dry and she couldn't help but blink, the clown retracted the scalpel.

He knew what the child cared about and what she wanted to see, not him, but the weapon in his hand that could hurt people, so he started to tease her, waving the scalpel in his bloody hands. He also knew one or two small magic tricks, such as making the scalpel disappear, sticking it into the mouth and then taking it out. In fact, these were just effects caused by visual dislocation.

And she was like a rigid machine, staring at the selected target and turning her head around, showing no interest in anything else.

But why does she have a feeling for knives?

Could it be that this was the only murder weapon she had in front of her?

It was also very simple for the Joker to verify. He bent his hand inward and retracted it, with the handle of the knife placed between his index finger and middle finger. It was a standard knife throwing gesture. The sharp scalpel flew out of his hand as he moved, heading straight towards her, and finally stabbed her cheek.

The pillow was filled with cotton, and the blade swayed slightly when inserted into it, and her eyes were drawn to it.

Cold and broken, everything was disrupted and could not be reassembled. The soul that could be seen in those green eyes was dried up. She had exhausted all the power of "life" and was only heading towards "death".

Only death is desire, only death is belonging.

Her own shadow was reflected on the shiny blade, but she only looked at the blade. There seemed to be a slight change in her eyes, because she was very close to it, and death might come in the next moment.

But the clown didn't intend to let her have her wish. He casually pulled out the scalpel and threw it on the ground. He was very satisfied with his gift, this new fun. He pretended to pull the needle off the back of her hand, but did not stop the bleeding for her. He said hypocritically: "You must be hungry, hahahahahaha..."

"My child, how could I let you starve?"

He walked out of the clinic, deliberately giving her a few more minutes, and took a glass of ice cola from his subordinate. When he returned to the room, he saw her climbed off the bed and stood in front of the scalpel on the ground.

The blood dripping from the back of her hand spread from the bed to her feet where she was standing now, and also fell on the scalpel.

The slow-witted child moves very slowly, and she really has a mental problem, but it is the best thing for the clown. Her previous impulse has disappeared and become silent. Now it seems that she is seeking her own death, but the clown does not care. Even if she is given more time, whether she can do it is another matter.

The clown opened the plastic lid on the Coke cup and threw it on the ground along with the straw and packaging. He stretched out his arm to grab her, pinched her jaw hard to make her open her mouth, and then poured all the ice Coke into her mouth.

She choked once or twice, and he held her down and continued to pour her drink while she was still coughing. By the time she finished the whole drink, she looked extremely miserable.

What a small, pitiful child, so short that he was not even as tall as his waist. He was tortured to the point of shedding tears, coughing in a panic and rapid manner, and his lungs and entire body trembled under his hands.

The clown patted her pale and sunken face. Isolating herself and refusing to perceive does not mean that she has lost her physical senses. She will also feel extremely uncomfortable after being treated badly. Maybe she wants to die. Living is certainly more painful than death, so this is human nature.

He wanted to see her more interesting reaction. A child who hadn't eaten for a long time and had a weak stomach, drank a glass of ice cola when her stomach was cramping. She might roll on the ground in pain later. Without a doctor or medicine, would she continue to wait for death or...

"I have some questions. Let's try it out. I think you won't mind."

Of course, the child wouldn't mind, nor would she express any resistance or hatred. She was just like that, as if she could let others do whatever they wanted. She was his most docile little toy.

Her stomachache came very quickly. Before the soft coughing stopped, her body began to shake. She slowly became hunched over in pain, first squatting, then curling up on the ground. She pressed her stomach hard, unable to bear the pain, but she controlled herself and did not cry out in pain.

The stomachache was accompanied by reflux again. Tears and sweat fell on her face. Her throat made a gurgling sound and choked sounds. From time to time, brown water overflowed from the corners of her mouth and flowed down her face to the ground. If she continued like this, she would probably die from suffocation caused by throat blockage or water in the lungs.

And she didn't ask for help at all, and it seemed like she had no will to survive at all——

No matter what fate it is, she just has to accept it.

Even if death comes with pain, she will not refuse as long as the final outcome remains unchanged.

But that kind of death was too boring, and the Joker didn't want to waste the gift he had received on that, so he squatted down, pulled up the child curled up on the ground, and carried her back to the hospital bed.

The first thing to do was to make her spit out what she had just drunk, but she wouldn't listen, so he had to do it himself. The clown didn't even think about asking her or ordering her. He just laid her face down with her abdomen against his legs, and then put his hands on her back and pressed down hard.

This problem would be easily solved by forcing her to vomit until her stomach was empty. She wouldn't die, especially since he hadn't lost interest in her.

Then she continued to receive intravenous drips. There were no regular medicines in the black clinic, at least no medicine to treat stomach problems. Seeing her curled up on the bed with her eyes open blankly, holding her stomach tightly, trying to stop the spasms and pain, the clown was kind enough to give her a painkiller injection.

Before she fell asleep again, the Joker pulled out a small knife from his back. It was his knife, which he used for many purposes in the past, such as cutting important ropes, making surprise gifts with the blade, opening people's mouths, tattooing people, and ventilating people's suffocating arteries...

But now he placed it next to her pillow, and her eyes were completely drawn to it.

He could feel it—her pain had subsided before the medicine had even taken effect.

This is so interesting.

The author has something to say:

Don't be afraid, Megan can become like what is written in the text (rebellious but not beaten) because she is raised by a clown. I have written the clown into the MAX skill of raising a cub.