How did the Joker those scars

There was laughter. A young man stood in front of the mirror and cackled, watching his tangled locks and the splatters of blood vibrate on his face as he did. In his hand, a straight razor still feeding a crimson pool on the tile floor one drop at a time. Behind him, laying in the hallway, were the husband and wife that helped raise him, the same pair that left him to the madmen at Arkham for his formative years.

They had struggled. The walls were lined with holes, with objects they attempted to use as weapons to defend themselves, with blood. A cracked container of detergent had spilled its powdery white contents sprayed along the walls, the floors, and the man laughing maniacally at his own handiwork.

Mad, they called him. Dangerous, even. He wasn't crazy, he often reassured himself. He was simply, unburdened. Unburdened by the pressures of childhood. By the savagery of his fellow man. By the ill-defined distinction between society's notions of right and wrong. This was not a crime scene; it was a beginning. It wasn't death, but birth.

Those, things, decaying on the floor weren't people. People don't abandon their child. People don't sell their progeny to the insane. They weren't victims, they were obstacles. Obstacles that were now behind him.

As his laugh echoed through the lifeless house, he came to a realization. He was happy. It was joy. Pure joy. But that face. That thing staring back at him wasn't happy. The white powdered complexion and the red smears looking like lipstick on a clown weren't enough.

"Smile!" he ordered the image, bearing a twisted grin. It wasn't enough.

"I said, SMILE!" he repeated the grin, eyes wide in a mix of rage and ecstasy. His arm raised the blade to his mouth and in a swift motion extended it on the left side. The smile never faded.

"Not. Good. Enough." The words were muffled as a stream of blood poured freely from the extended mouth.

Another swipe, this time to the right.

The laughing stopped and the smile vanished, the blood kept flowing. The man just stared at the mirror, studying his new face.

"Why so serious?"

And then he broke out in an uncontrollable cackle again, collapsing onto the floor. Pleased for the second time that day.

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