"Twenty-six"

"Twenty- seven"

"Twenty-eight"

"Twenty-nine"

"Thirty!" I screeched, clapping my hands at the thirtieth time I had paced around my cell block. It was the only form of exercise I could get in this shit hole and every lap was a tiny success to me. I missed the outside world so much and being inside this place had made me long for the earthy smell left after rainfall, the sound of chirping birds and general elements of freedom that i had taken for granted only weeks ago.

If you're wondering why i am no longer subjected to the outside world its because I am a certified. fucking. psychopath.

But that's just up to opinion, isn't it? I don't quite remember exactly how I got into Arkham Asylum but since I'm in here and I haven't spoken to another person in a while, I'm supposing I must have done something bad. Really, really bad.

My memory is equally as disappointing because it can't recall a single event or hint of a life before I ended up here. Of course, they're key parts, like my name is Harleen Quinzel and i'm a 20- something year old girl who is now locked up in a mental institution.

Seems kinda weird, doesn't it? If I think about it, I come to the conclusion that I was definitely the teacher's pet type. You know, a privileged lifestyle, loving family, bright future blah blah blah?

But, for some godforsaken reason, I had ended up in a fucking mental institution! No matter how hard I try, how hard I think back to my life before the Asylum, my stubborn mind prevents me from remembering, which makes me seriously question what the hell I did.

The only thing I knew was that it's been about 3 weeks maybe, maybe a little more since I was wheeled down the halls into the Asylum. It always came to me in a dream...

I woke up in a wheelchair with my feet strapped and my wrists tied to the sides of the chair, digging into my veins making my hands throb purple. My head was in a restraint too with a buckle around my chin and forehead preventing me from moving in any direction

'Whe-where am I" I slurred, my vision making the room look like a merry-go-round. The hallways were dim-lit, almost completely dark but with a slightly blue and green tinge making the atmosphere appear ill, churning my stomach like a dishwasher. The scent was almost clinical if it wasn't for the bitter aroma of sweat that melted into my pores and tasted bitter on my lips.

The clicking of heels on the floor and a slight giggle echoing behind me had snapped back my attention,

"What's going on, answer me!" I screeched again, before aggressively shaking my hips and lunging forward and backwards, swaying my wheelchair into a discourse.

I heard a few murmurs around me as the wheelchair suddenly stammered to a halt and a man began circling around the wheelchair, his fingertips brushing my exposed shoulders as he walked.

"We are just introducing a little anarchy sweets," he snarled into my ear sending shudders up my spine and causing goose bumps to form on my skin.

I chose not to answer but squeal and throw my body around in contorted movements attempting to break free.

"Oh pretty pretty pretty you don't want to be doing that," he turned to face me, his nose inches from mine as he squatted on his haunches to look intimately into my eyes. He pulled down the blue surgical mask and gave a light snicker, his breath minty on my tongue as I hauled my head slightly back to speculate the man who was silently glaring at me with warm chocolate eyes.

Even in the dark, he was undoubtedly the most beautiful yet most unusual man I had ever seen. What struck me the most was his pristine white complexion complementing his angular structure and high cheekbones with slightly green, scraggly hair sticking attentively to his face. His lips were carved into an elongated smile, his lips so red they appeared to be lightly smudged with lipstick. He smelt minty and of expensive cologne, drawing my in even closer to him.

I had to admit at first he scared me a little. But what scared me more was that I didn't want to turn away in fear, but to touch him out of pure interest and desire.

"Well, that depends, whatcha gonna do about it Mister…" my eyes fluttering down to his name badge reading 'Joker,' "J?" I pouted my lips out at him, unsure if I was being intimidating or juvenile.

"I'm going to treat you to something real nice sweets…thank me later" he said in a velvety tongue, before grabbing my arm aggressively and digging his nails into my pale flesh. He pulled out a thin and small needle filled with purple liquid from his chest pocket and dangled in front of my face before bopping it on my nose. He traced it from my nose, down my lips and along my neck, slightly scraping my skin as he reached my swollen forearm.

"See you soon" he swooned, kissing my skin before inserting the needle as a sudden alarm erupted in the halls, blaring red flashing lights around us.

I shot him my best attempts of a smile in the last efforts of intimidation before my vision began to blur back out. His stretched out smile the last thing I saw, and a whirlwind of laughter and cackles swarming around me, filling my ears in a chilling yet mesmerising way…


Hey guys! Let me know what you think of my introduction to Harley in Arkham! Currently a little confusing but i will be uploading new chapters depending on reviews and levels of popularity! Please, please, please review and give me your thoughts! Greatly appreicated xoxo