I DON'T OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS BESIDE MY OC. A/N: my first Arrow fanfic. I'm really excited about it(: deadshot has recently become one of my favorite characters on the show and I just had to write this XD please follow/favorite/review if you like!
If I could describe this patient in one word it'd be inane. The crazy haired blonde girl sat across from me wearing a devious smile. Shining pearly white teeth. "So cutie what seems to be your problem?" She asks. I shake my head impatiently tapping the notebook that laid on my lap. "I'm not the one in therapy, you are Harley. So tell me how you are doing? Anymore unwanted voices?" "Nah not UNwanted voices." Harley replies laying down on her bed. "So wanted voices?" A goofy giggle escapes the woman's lips. "Uh-hum." "Who is talking to you Harley?" Interested I lean forward. "Mr. J of course!" Mr. J, also known as her imaginary boyfriend. From what she's told me I can infer that this 'Mr. J' is the male figure she's never had. She describes him as her savior, the person who allowed her to be herself. The voice is her way of dealing with the criminal acts she committed. "What does Mr. J tell you to do?" Harley abruptly sits up her brows furrowed as she decides whether or not to speak. "He...he tells me to stay put." Why would the voice be telling her that? I open my mouth to press the subject hoping to dig deeper into her subconscious but a knock cuts our session. With a smile I stand up and shut my notes. "You did really well Harley." "Bye Miss. B." The tiny girl shoots up and pulls me into a tight hug. Laughing slightly taken back I slowly hug her back. "Bye Harley." As I walk out off the cell room I can't help but feel despair. I see these prisoners and the way they get treated and it pains me. Don't get me wrong I know they are bad, I mean we have a guy they call deadshot locked in here, but part of me feels like it's not entirely their fault. There comes a moment in life that alters your entire purpose. Someone or something corrupted these people into vile citizens and I refuse to believe there's not a chance that they can be saved. Anyone who is capable of feeling is capable of being saved. I was so contempt in my own thoughts I hadn't noticed the beefy security guard speaking to me as he led me to my next client. As we stopped at the cell door I recognized him as Christopher. "So um Malia what do you say?" He has completely lost me. With an innocent smile I cock my head to the side. "About what?" Nervously the raven haired man rested his hand on the back of his neck. "I just asked you out for drinks." "Oh." Was all I could say my mouth wide open. Why on earth would he ask me out? I'm awkward and-and not the prettiest girl here. "Is that a yes or a no?" Chris questions shyly. It's cute in a way. "I don't mix my work life with my social life." Instinctively I rest my hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry." His lips get pressed down in a thin line indicating his frustration. The cell door slides open and I could feel a strong presence behind me. I spin on my heels to face the man gripping my notebook tightly. He smirks down at me amused before lifting his gaze to Christopher. "Hope I wasn't interrupting anything but I do enjoy my um, sessions." "Not at all Mr. Lawton, shall we begin?" He kindly moves aside allowing me inside his cell. When I'm inside he blows a taunting kiss to the guard before the door slides shut. "You really enjoy testing authority don't you?" "And you really enjoy asking questions, don't you?" He arches a brow propping himself on the bed. I chuckle quietly my eyes darting behind him to the shrine he had. The girl was pretty and appeared happy. That's a good sign, he has someone on the outside he can turn too. "Who is she?" "It doesn't matter...I'll never see her." There's emotion flowing in his visible eye that sends chills up my spine. "Why not?" The moment I open my notebook any form of emotion leaves his features. "I don't think so sweetheart. You're not getting me to open up so you can report back to the bitch and tell her I'm weak." Floyd speaks with harshness that I realize as a defense. "Anything you say to me is confidential." Which he knows already. I highly doubt I'm the first therapist he's ever acquired. "Well that's not entirely true is it? This whole room is rigged with cameras. They hear everything, see everything." "Not during therapy sessions, they shut the camera's off." "Do they now?" Floyd's voice is full of sarcastic belief. My body tenses as he gets up and circles me. "So they can't see us right now?" Rough hands land on my shoulder, his hot breath brushing against my exposed neck. Damn me for wearing a ponytail! "You are very naive Malia." He whispers in my ear the same moment three guards rush in. One pulls me away from Floyd as the other two pin him on the wall rather roughly. "Guys it's fine." No one hears me, as usual. Christopher drags me out of the cell. In the distance I hear Mr. Lawton laughing as he says, "but we were just getting somewhere!" causing me to smile unwillingly. "Miss. Bradley a word." Amanda Waller called, her heels loudly clanking down the long hall. Like a child before an adult I bowed my head fearing punishment. "Care to explain what just happened?" "I-I was hoping to get deeper into Mr. Lawton's feelings-" "Feelings?" She let's out a humorless laugh. "I understand as a therapist you feel obligated to peel away these peoples layers but here you have other obligations." "Like what?" I tried my best to hide any attitude. "Like making sure they have their minds set on one thing and one thing only; the kill." I shift awkwardly. "I'm not entirely comfortable with that." "Honestly I don't care if it's against your moral code- Sebastian get them ready!" Amanda ordered a guard and instantly the cell doors open. "Ready for what?" She sends me a sweet smile. "I'm afraid that's above your pay grade Miss. Bradley. The rest of your sessions have been cleared. You are dismissed." "But-" "Dismissed." Reluctantly I exited the facility and drove to my crappy apartment. Exhausted I tossed myself on the memory foam mattress allowing my body to get pulled deeper into its coziness. As my eyes closed I saw Floyd and the others. There's so much pain hidden behind their masquerades. I refuse to let these criminals drown in the blood of their past. It may make me deranged to see the good in murders but I have to believe there's good in them. I have to. The more I thought the more I focused on my conversation with Amanda. Why does she want them to STAY killers? And what the hell was Amanda getting them ready for?