The rooms in Arkham always felt the same it didn't matter which room it was, it was a plain room, with chairs, or bars, nothing seemed to change. Even the mind games felt the damn same. The Joker's eye board deep into Harleen's cautious blue eyes, the smell of death thick in the air, as he held her by the scalp. She knew it was sick, that's what made it so sad, knowing. What she thought was worse? How much she loved it. They played this game often, most would call it Chicken, in here she called it Playtime. It'd been six months since she's accepted her fate, she would eventually lose her job at Arkham once they found out, her friends and family would shun her…like a leper. She never meant to find and obsession in the Joker—fascination, sure. Obsession, no.
Flash backs to the good old days, as he sat across from her ass on the couch all tucked inside his straight jacket, back when he use to cackle at her, for trying to be a good doctor.
Then she looked at herself now, in his grasp. She let him out of his straight jacket's during their 'sessions', she let him torture her, her let him ruin her life as she knew it…and Harleen loved every minute of it. She loved it so much, she burst out laughing as he drew his hand back from a painful smack across her face.
Pain was funny here. It was devious. She begged for more, and he gladly supplied it, with his own demented laughter, together their laughs made a sort of music. Music of the Mad, but music none the less.
She never remembered when it exactly y happened, or how it happened, when she really lost it; however there was always one detail that she always had down: Joker was there. He made it better. He took the pains she hated, and replaced it with a new found glee. That's what stuck out to her the most.
The Joker pulled her up harshly off her knees, she stood close to him, face but inches from his. His breath heavy, on her pink glossy lips.
"For me?" He motioned to her lipstick.
"Always." She replied breathlessly.
He kissed her roughly pinning her against the wall, their lips colliding in a broken harmony. Their broken harmony.
"Doc." A voice intrudes harshly into her thoughts. Harleen shook her head violently, pushing her glasses up on her nose to focus on the patient in front of her.
Joker sat tightly in his straight jacket on the brown couch in front of her, the yellow notepad balanced on her lap still empty.
Her head snapped to the clock on the wall next to the door, their time was up.
"W-well, that was good for a first session." She said nervously, standing up, walking slowly to the door, opening it for the guards waiting outside. The guards grasped onto the Joker, roughly removing him from her office. As she watched him be dragged down the hall, she whispered to herself, "See you tomorrow…same time."
