1 . Arkham Asylum
_**ARKHAM ASYLUM* *_
I'm sitting at a table, talking to one of the most twisted minds in
the world. What am I doing with myself? It's probably a dream. I'll
wake up soon. The Joker is never who everyone suspects him to be, he
always makes a different story for each doctor who talks to him. Am I
different? Probably not, but we'll see.
"Hello, my name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel, I am a psychiatrist at
Arkham. I'm here to help you" I say, though his pale white face
screams at my eyes but I do not show panic, nor fear.
I sit, anxiously waiting the reply from a psychopath.
"Harleen Quinzel? Such a terribly formal name. Tell me, do your
friends call you Harley? I think it's much cuter. If you wanted to
make it official, why not call yourself Harley Quinn? Now that sounds
much more appropriate. But then, that's just me" he says, staring at
my face with lust.
Maybe it's a sign of affection, but I can't assume anything yet. I
try and stay professional, despite feeling uncomfortable with the
situation I find myself in.
"I don't really have any f riends ... Anyway , why are you here?" I
say .
He's flirting with me, is this a strategy to get me on his side? To
make me fall for his story? I wonder.
"Why, to tell you my story! It's a wonderful little tale, I'm sure
you'll enjoy it. But if you don't then... well don't tell me what you
thought of it" The Joker replied to me, gritting his teeth and making
his eyes kill me inside.
I need to choose my words carefully.
"I'm ready to listen to you, please, tell me anything" I hope this
shows my compassion and understanding, even for the criminally
insane. His scarred mouth makes a smile.
"Well, Harley" he winks, as he continues explaining his back-story.
"I would like to start out by saying you have an incredibly beautiful
voice. I could talk to you all day. But... Oh, yes! My story! Well,
you see my parents were murdered in front of me, and I was told by my
dad, I should smile more. So I took his word in his dying breath and
carved a permanent smile on my face. That way, I can always be happy.
And make others happy too" he stopped smiling. "It's not just clown
makeup, it's a real scar. Painful, maybe but quite the conversation
starter ... I ' m surprised you haven't brought it up yet actually" he
has such a confidence in his words.
It's certain he's sick, twisted too. I only hope he's telling the
truth .
"Oh my, I'm sorry you had to go through that" I said, trying to
reassure him once again I'm here to help.
"Don't be, I was the one who murdered them!" he laughs, loudly.
For the duration of the laughter I feel my heart skip a beat. He can
see my fear, he _loves _it . He knows what I want to say, but I won't
say it.
"Mhm, crazy right? Well maybe everyone's got a little craziness
bottled away, it's healthy. You must want to know what it feels to
let out the insanity. To give in to the little voice in your head
that says 'do it' and once you actually kill someone, you know you're
free . Free . "
I swallow nervously and although petrified, I find myself drawn to
his explanation. True or not, the level of psychological trauma he is
showing me is fascinating.
"But why, why did you do it? What lead you to act in such a way?" I
asked, but I found myself lost in his presence.
"Why do you do anything, Harley? Revenge? Boredom? No, you do it
because you feel like it. And maybe because my parents disapproving
of my depression was aggravating to listen to... all the time. I
granted their wish though, I now smile and laugh more. Must be a win
win! Of course, well... now they're dead. But that's hardly my problem
anymore. But tell me about you, Harleen. It's boring to talk about
myself in such a positive light all the time."
He gave me chills. Actual chills.
"I want to understand your reasoning, your motive and most
importantly, I want to help you." I say, writing several notes on a
piece of paper positioned on the table.
Joker is tormenting me silently with his glare. I can't see his eye
contact directly. I can feel it.
"You have such a beautiful voice, I could listen to you all day." he
said, edging his chair closer to the desk and putting his handcuffed
wrists on the table.
"Uh ... thanks " I say, accepting the compliment awkwardly.
His green eyes are locked firmly on me.
"Harley, why would you put yourself through a job you don't enjoy?
Why don't you let yourself be free? Be happy. I can tell you're bored
and it's not because of me, I'm way too fun to be boring!"
He makes a valid point, I really don't like this job. At all. I've
always wanted to enjoy the freedom but what is he suggesting?
Romance? Escaping? I can't, I won't. He can see I'm in
denial .
"I... I can't... I won't" I find myself stuttering, I want to say no
but in my brain it screams for me to say yes.
It's agonizing too, his words are like daggers into my heart and each
one is splitting my sanity open. I somehow think he's being genuine.
I think he's actually telling me the truth.
"Come now, such a beautiful young girl like you should be out there
ruling the world, with me. Harley, come with me. I promise you it'll
be okay. Nobody has to know. Nobody needs to know"
I cannot fault his affection any longer. Joker puts his handcuffed
wrists towards me.
"But of course, I can't do this without you" his words are so sincere
it ' s sickening .
The key to his chains is in my pocket. I have the key to his
f reedom . . . and maybe mine as well.
"Okay" I say slowly.
I get the key out of my pocket and unlock his handcuffs. He stands
up, moves over to me. Closer. He embraces me softly. I suppose he
could've killed me if he wanted too, but he didn't.
"Thank you" he said.
I found my arms slowly admitting affection towards The Joker.
"You may not have many friends, Harley. But you have me now" he
kissed me on the cheek.
Did I just give up my sanity? I don't know, it's so crazy my mind
can't process what's going on right now. But my eyes meet his and we
exchange a discreet kiss on the lips.
Harley? I like that name. I like The Joker.
2 . First Date
_**FIRST DATE**_
I feel dizzy, unsettled. I can't move, my eyes are blurry. What's
happening? I try and look around and I see tools. Sharp ... tools .
There's a bright light above me, looks like I'm on a surgery bed.
About to die. Then... he emerges from the darkness and right in front
of me. The Joker. My god, what have I got myself into? I should've
seen it coming. I knew I shouldn't have trusted this psycho. Too late
now, I guess now I pay for my mistake ... with my life. He touches me
on the cheek, he's wearing a purple surgical glove on his hand. It
feels smooth on my skin. I want to scream, though my mouth has been
taped shut.
Screaming wouldn't change a heart of a criminal, not even love.
Unless this is revenge for his past, or being locked up in Arkham. He
brushes the strands of blonde hair from my face with his fingers and
then smiles at me.
"Good morning, my dear! Goodness, you are adorable when you sleep. Of
course...! couldn't risk your betrayal so I had to make sure you were
genuine. Don't bother struggling, screaming or whatever. Harley,
you're mine. And you'll always be mine, but right now... well you're a
little too 'perfect' for me. I like my girls with some bad blood in
their body. Some real attitude. I know this isn't how you pictured
our first date but don't worry! It'll be fun! Well, for me anyway" he
lets out a maniacal laugh.
I hate my empathy towards him. Surely he wouldn't kill me, right? I
mean he was too nice to me to end me so quickly. Oh no . . . I bet it's
going to be torture. Actual torture, all the signs are clear. I
swallowed and began breathing heavily. I could only use my trust to
pray that he wouldn't kill me.
"You're scared, aren't you? It's to be expected. Heck your boyfriend
just turned on you! Oh! What a back stab huh? Not the case, my dear.
Not the case. I just wanted you to be a bit more 'evil' if you know
what I mean" he smirks.
His smirk kills me inside. I see him as I try and follow him around
the room with my eyes. He picks up a knife, licks the blade in-front
of me and heads back over to where I'm restrained... against my will.
He unbuttons his maroon long sleeved shirt half way. I can see the
tattoos on his chest. I saw the intensity of the green hair dye, and
the 'damaged' tattoo on his forehead. His body was muscled, he was in
good physical fitness. That was clear to me.
"You know, I told you a true story, Harley. I said that my father
would tell me to smile more. So when I was killing him, I carved a
smile just like mine on his face, I then asked him 'why so serious?'
and then as his lifeless body fell to the ground I felt a boost. A
huge moment of adrenalin and it was amazing. But don't worry, I'm not
going to kill you. I might just hurt you though. A lot" another
maniacal laugh echoes the darkness in the room.
I start trying to struggle more violently and the muffles from my
mouth under the tape are still just muffles. He rips the tape from my
mouth. Painfully.
"Why... what did I do to you?" I muttered, sadly.
I don't expect cooperation from him anymore, I don't expect anything
anymore ... except pain.
"Nothing you did, Harley. Something your parents did, though." he
smiled, putting the blade of the knife towards my throat.
I tried to stay perfectly still. If I struggled, my throat would be
sliced open. I would die within minutes. But what does he mean? What
did my parents do? I hope he isn't going to kill them. I try and hide
the tears running down my cheeks. Always assume the worst ... that ' s
what my parents told me. I'm guessing he feels my intellect must be
punished, and the ones responsible would be my parents.
I feel weak and powerless. I can't do anything. If I say anything
he'll probably hurt me. He takes the knife away from my throat and
wipes the tears off my face with his hand. The hand which isn't
holding the knife, luckily. He threw the knife at the wall. The knife
landed on a picture. A picture... of me. He picked up the knife from
the fresh hole in the wall and placed it on the table next to me. He
came over to me. He removed the glasses from my eyes gently. He
placed the glasses on the table.
"I want to admire your beautiful blue eyes. You don't need glasses.
You don't need anything, anyone. You have me" he took off one of the
purple gloves and stroked my cheek with his hand. "You have me" he
repeated softly. "Now then, on to more important business matters.
Tell me, Harley." he picked up the knife from the table and continued
talking . "Have you got any worries? Concerns? Anyone who you want
dead? I would like to point out that I am not eligible as an answer
to this question" he moved the knife close to my chest. "I hate
doctors you know, they always tell me what I can and can't do. You
wouldn't do that, would you Harley?"
"No" I said nervously.
"No what?" he demanded a more lengthy response.
"No, sir" I replied.
"Please, call me J. Sounds more romantic" he looked at my flat
chest .
Which was apparently nearly naked. I could feel a chill, I was only
wearing a short cropped t-shirt. I didn't realize he almost made me
naked. Almost.
"You know, Harley. You would seriously benefit from some ink. Some
tattoos would spice up your dreadfully dull and formal persona. Don't
you think?" my heart skipped more than one beat at this moment.
I really hope he wasn't implying that he would use a knife to carve
'tattoos' onto my skin.
"Come to think of it, add some makeup and a bit of hair dye, a change
of clothing and some tattoos and you'd look drop-dead-gorgeous."
"I don't have a choice...do I?" I said, painfully preparing myself
for the torture I was about to endure.
"Harley, you always have a choice. I'm just making the choice for
you!" and there is that maniacal laughter again.
Signature laughter, really unique tone.
"Now, if I unlock your restraints are you going to try and escape?"
he asked. "Though if you try and escape or attempt to kill me then
well. I'll have no choice but to kill you. So what do you say?" I
could tell he wasn't in the mood for games, I didn't have a
choice .
No matter what. Harleen Quinzel had to go. Then it hit me, the actual
acceptance of a new, darker persona. And personally, I think I was
ready. No... I knew I was ready.
"Sure thing. Mister J" I said, seemingly not caring about anything
anymore .
Mister J was more adorable than J, or Joker but also slightly formal
too .
"That's my girl." The Joker removed the restraints from my arms and
legs .
I sat up. The choice I had was escape and be killed or stay and live.
My mind was made up.
"I knew you were in there somewhere, that's my Harley." "Jester
fashion is so in season right now. Wouldn't you agree?" he asked
me .
"Oh yes. I love it." I said, hugging the tattooed criminal closely.
Whispering in his ear "I love you. Mister J."
I felt free. It was so odd, yet so exciting. He handed me some white
face-paint and a small brush. He held up a mirror for me, this was my
moment. My big transformation. I took the brush and started painting
my face pastel white. It looked incredible. He then offered me some a
selection of makeup.
"Where did you get this? How did you get this?" I asked.
"It's beautiful" I said.
"I stole it, for you" he replied, smiling as he handed me blue
eye-shadow .
I applied the blue eye-shadow to my right eye. I smudged the blue
eye-shadow for a messy effect. I was never messy. I then did the same
for the other eye, only in pink eye-shadow instead of blue. My red
lipstick smudged onto the white face paint, made it look like I had
blood near my mouth. Of course. Mister J had me covered and offered
me a bright red lipstick to coat onto my lips. Though, I liked the
look of the blood on my face. I couldn't tell if I liked the new look
or not. Mister J smiled at me.
"You already look so much better, Harley." he said.
"Why do you wanna change me. Mister J? Don't you love me the way I
am?" I asked.
"Of course my dear! It's just that, a change is a good thing, it's
like we're putting your old self to bed and welcoming a brand new
Harley Quinn. I for one, love the new you" he replied.
It was true, as Harleen I didn't have any fun, any friends or anyone
who thought I was beautiful. Now, I can actually love myself. My new
self .
"Before you say it, I know. My hair is boring. It's boring and it's
not fun. Well I agree, I thought you'd say it. I suppose you want me
to change my hair too?" I asked, slightly annoyed at him for wanting
to change so much of my appearance.
Though I didn't disagree with his reasoning.
"Harley, I love your hair! But why not make it, as you say 'more
fun'. I got some dye!" he said excitedly as he pulled out a bottle of
blue and a bottle of hot pink hair dye.
"Oh my gosh, I love those colours!" I squealed with excitement.
"I knew you would" he smiled.
He went and got two containers and tipped a bottle of dye in each
one. One blue, and one pink.
"Fancy some dip, dying?" he smiled.
I looked at the containers full of brightly coloured hair dyes and
smiled at him. I partitioned my hair into two halves. One half I
dipped in blue dye, about a third of the hair was coated in blue. I
then dipped the other half of my hair into hot pink hair dye. I took
both halves out of the dye and let them drip. I remembered I had a
couple of spare hair ties in my trouser pocket so I tied my hair in
two separate tails, one at each side. Not loose, tight. The dye was
dripping onto my body. It felt incredible. Though this is only the
beginning, I'm so happy Mister J is making me do this.