Killer Dolls

Chapter 1. Therapy

A group of about ten women sat in plastic folding chairs arranged in a circle inside a large grey room. They were all different ages, races, heights, and weights, but one thing they had in common was that they were all wearing the exact same pale blue pajamas with the word ARKHAM stamped across the chest in big black letters. That is because they were all inmates at Gotham City's leading mental containment facility, Arkham Asylum, and part of a group therapy session. The topic was "violent women who love violent men" and Dr. Gates, a stern looking female doctor with short brown hair and horn rimmed glasses, was leading the group from her comfortable upholstered office chair.

"Okay, that's good, Jenny," the doctor said to a heavy set woman with red hair who had just finished sharing with the group. "And do you think it was the fact that your father was a butcher that led to your over eating habit as well as your attraction to men who have a penchant for knives?"

"M-m-maybe," said the woman. "I never really made that connection."

"Well, that's what we're here to discover, ladies," said Dr. Gates to the group at large. "The root of these unhealthy and perverse desires."

She had a calm, patient, condescending voice. Like she was talking to very slow children.

"Okay, let's move on," she said as she jotted something down on the clipboard she had in her lap. As she wrote, the silver wedding ring on her finger glinted in the fluorescent light of the dingy room.

"Let's see, who haven't we heard from in a while," said the doctor as she surveyed the group. "How about you, Harleen." she pointed with her ballpoint pen at a petite blonde woman with pigtails and a far off, dreamy look on her face, who sat in her chair with her legs crossed, rocking back and forth to a tune only she could apparently hear.

"Oh, me?" said Harleen, after noticing everyone else was staring at her.

"Yes," said Dr. Gates. "Harleen, you've been in and out of this institution many times over the years. And everytime you come back it seems it is due in large part to your relationship with the serial killer known as The Joker. Tell us, is this what has brought you back to us again this time?"

"Well... sorta," Harleen said in a nasally Brooklyn accent. "Ya see, last time I got released I decided that was it, I would get my life back together and put Mr. J in the past. I got myself a job at a used clothing store, got a small apartment in The Narrows, even got a little hamster I named Bill. Everything was going fine, even if it was kinda boring."

"And then?" prompted Dr. Gates.

"And then he called," said Harleen. "I don't know how he got my new number, but Mr. J phoned me up one night and said that he was down and out and needed help. He asked me to come to a chemical plant on Bulsher Avenue to save him. I know I shouldn't have, but he sounded like he was in real trouble, so I had to go. Of course when I got there I found out he'd been using the plant to produce Joker venom he was gonna use to lace postage stamps with and he only needed my help because he needed someone to drive the tanker truck he'd stolen and filled up with the stuff. I told him 'No!' and put my foot down."

"Good for you," a few of the other women said.

"But then..." continued Harleen. "Then Batman showed up."

Harleen balled up her fists and made an angry face.

"Ooh, that Batman. It's all his fuckin' fault," she said.

"Harleen!" admonished Dr. Gates.

"Sorry," said Harleen. "But it is. He comes swooping through the skylight as usual and attacks Mr. J. So I go runnin' outside to get the truck thinkin' I can maybe drive it in through the wall and run over Batman or somethin', but as soon as I get outside I hear this explosion and when I turn around the whole building blows up and knocks me on my butt. Then out of the flames comes Batman who puts the cuffs on me and now I'm here. He's the one who should be in here. He murdered my puddin'!"

"Now see, Harleen, your projecting again," said Dr. Gates, calmly. "Batman is not the problem here. Not in this particular case anyway. The problem is your obsessive need to please others, particularly those who routinely take advantage of and mistreat you."

Harleen started to object, but Dr. Gates held up her hand to silence her and when she did so, her silver wedding ring shone.

"There is a difference between a functional relationship and a dysfunctional one," said Dr. Gates. She seemed to be speaking to everyone in the group at this point. "For instance, me and my husband of ten years, Ted, we have what is defined as a functional relationship. It's based on trust, mutual respect, and the willingness to put each other's needs ahead of our own selfish individual needs. Our marriage is a partnership, which we both work to help strengthen."

The women of the group looked at the doctor confused and unimpressed. Harleen just looked pissed. She slouched in her chair with her arms folded and went, "Hmph."

"We'll work on you some more in our next session, Harleen," said Dr. Gates, making another note on her clipboard. "For now let's hear from someone new. Ladies, I'd like you all to meet the latest addition to the group," she said, indicating a woman who sat far off to the left of everybody else and who had been completely quiet throughout the entire therapy session. She was a round faced woman in her late thirties or early forties with blonde hair and dark roots, and even with the baggy blue pajamas she wore on you could tell she had a voluptuous figure underneath.

"Would you care to introduce yourself?" Dr. Gates asked the woman.

"Oh, me?" said the woman. She had a smokey, soft voice that almost sounded like a whisper. "My name is Tiffany."

"Hello, Tiffany," said the other women in unison.

"Hi," Tiffany said, awkwardly waving at the group.

"Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself, Tiffany," said Dr. Gates.

"Oh, there's not much to tell really," said Tiffany. "I'm from New Jersey. I'm a Virgo. I like romance novels and sewing. I'm kind of a boring person."

"Okay," said Dr. Gates. "How about you tell us how you ended up here at Arkham Asylum, then, and why you decided to be a part of this particular group. You have a past history with violent men?"

"Only one," said Tiffany. "Chucky. Chucky was the love of my life."

"Was?" asked Dr. Gates.

"Oh, he's dead... currently," said Tiffany, looking only slightly sad.

The other women made sympathetic noises.

"I see. Tiffany, let's start at the beginning. What was your childhood Like?" asked Dr. Gates. "Your relationship with your parents for example."

"Well, I never really knew my father," said Tiffany. "As a kid it was pretty much just me and my mother, who always used to say that we were better off without him anyway. She was a tough woman, but also very wise. She was always giving me advice and teaching me life lessons in between working her waitress job at the diner and hanging out down at the biker bars. It's actually because of her that I met my Chucky."

"Mmm hmm," said Dr. Gates, making a note.

"You see, I was nineteen years old and I was working with my mother down at the diner. Her psoriasis was acting up this one day, so she asked me if I could finish out her shift for her so that she could go home to our trailer and rest. I said okay, and went over to one of her tables to take the customer's order and sitting there was the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen. He had long, dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and as soon as I saw him I knew he was the one I would spend the rest of my lives with."

"Life," said Dr. Gates.

"Oh, right," said Tiffany.

"But Chucky was bad, was he?" asked the doctor.

"Well, it's all in how you look at it really," said Tiffany. "My mother always used to say that everyone has both good and bad in them. Chucky's real problem was his temper."

"Was he physically or verbally abusive to you?" asked Dr. Gates.

"Not at first," said Tiffany. "I mean, the sex could get pretty rough sometimes and he always did have a mouth like a sailor, but no, he reserved his violence for the rest of the world mostly. That's how I knew he loved me and I was special."

"But then things changed?" asked the doctor.

"Yeah. Eventually my mother... died and I decided to move with Chucky to Chicago. He had a friend named Eddie there and the two of them were going to start a partnership together. I guess in retrospect I was just getting my hopes up, but I always figured once we got to new surroundings and Chucky started his new... venture, that he'd mellow out and me and him could settle down together. That didn't happen, though. What happened is that he ended up abandoning me right after we got to Chicago. I didn't see him again for almost a decade after that. And when he did come back he was a complete ass."

As she talked Tiffany got madder and madder and her voice began to rise.

"We fought more then than we had ever fought in the past. He even hit me with a shovel one time."

"No!" said a black woman sitting next to her.

"Yes," said Tiffany. "But I stabbed him, so..."

"That's always how it is," Harleen chimed in. "They love ya, then leave ya, then when it's convenient they want ya back again."

"Yeah," agreed all the women.

"Now, ladies, let's calm down," said Dr. Gates.

"Anyway, to answer your question," Tiffany continued, composing herself, "The reason I'm in here now is because after Chucky died recently I decided to reinvent myself, much like Harleen was talking about."

Harleen smiled at Tiffany.

"I decided it was time to focus on me again, so I came to Gotham City. Unfortunately I had a little run in with the law as soon as I got here," continued Tiffany.

"Yes, it says here you punched a patrolman in the face when he tried to give you a speeding ticket," said Dr. Gates, as she read from her clipboard.

Tiffany smiled. "Yeah, and due to some past indiscretions on the books from when I was younger, the courts decided this was the best place for me instead of regular jail."

"Hmm," said Dr. Gates. "Okay, well, I think now is a good time to bring this session to a close for today, ladies. Next time we can pick it back up with you, Tiffany. I'm sure the more we learn about your relationship with this Chucky, the better we'll be able to help you confront whatever emotional and mental problems you might be having. And we'll all do it together, right ladies?"

"Right," said all of the women of the group like trained seals responding to a command. All except Harleen, who stayed silent.