Driving up the big hill and sitting in the shadow of the enormous building wasn't a problem. It was forcing myself out of the warm, safe interior of the car that was a challenge. My mind cried out for the comfort of the taxi we drove up in, but my legs wandered up the steps and into Arkham Asylum.

It was a place where only the sickest, most vile of all humans in Gotham were locked up. A tall building that warned all who looked its way of what lied within, with a haunting 19th century look to it's outside. Once we stepped inside, it looked like any other insane asylum would look like in the movies. The walls were a pale green, with linoleum tiles that squeaked underneath your shoes to add to the eery feeling.

A nurse at the desk asked for us to sign in. She was tan, with light brown eyes and flowing strawberry blonde hair. Her smile was almost forced, but just look at the place she had to work at. The scratching noise the pen made as it scraped against the paper sent chills down my arms. Looking down at my signature, it felt foreign and strange, as if it wasn't mine.

Harleen Quinzel.

Every single hair on the back of my neck stood on end as we walked further down the hallway and into the actual hospital. We turned a corner, and the visiting area sat before us. Tables with fold-out chairs were placed in the center of the big room, with benches lining the back wall. A few other families were visiting, hunched over and whispering to each other. They were about as thrilled as the nurse was.

All of the patients were downstairs, in the room with us. Those who had no one visiting them sat on the benches along the back wall. A quick scan through the patients, and my breath was taken away. I spotted my brother, pale with light purple bruising under his eyes, but that wasn't what struck me.

Sitting to his right, a patient in handcuffs leaned back against the pale green walls with a smirk on his face. A guard with a shotgun stood next to him, making sure to glance down every other minute. It was his face that stood out to me. It was covered in face paint, like a clown, black eyes and a big red smile. As we got closer, I noticed that the red smile was actually covering scars shaped into a big smile on his face.

A chill ran down my spine as he turned his head in my direction. His hazel eyes scanned my body up and down, and then he looked me right in the eyes. I felt my hands shaking at my sides, and then I heard my cellphone fall on the floor. The patient threw his head back and let out a loud, mocking laugh — bringing a picture of a hyena to mind.

"Harleen !" Sam, my older brother, wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. It was back to reality: he was in here because he had tried to kill himself, and that was the only reason I was here too.

A nurse escorted us to the table nearest to the clown, and I was forced into sitting with my back facing him. I could feel his eyes burning into my back, and everytime I snuck a glimpse at him, he was staring right at me. A knot had formed in my stomach, and I had to get up and ask for the bathroom.

A nurse showed me to a bathroom with only a toilet and a sink. No mirrors for obvious reasons. I leaned against the wall, trying to make the nausea go away.

Calm down, Harleen. He can't hurt you.

Once I had regained my composure, I made my way back to the table. Again, I could feel his eyes on me as I walked across the room to my chair. I tried my best to ignore him.

"Harlequin." I turned quickly to look at him. He was smiling, his yellow teeth showing and the red smile reaching from ear to ear. "Harley Quin."

"Excuse me ?" Breathe. I forgot to breathe and I nearly choked on my own words.

"Harleen Quinzel becomes Harley Quinn."

A chill ran down my spine, turning my legs to jello. I fell to the floor, causing the guards to grab hold of the clown. A couple of nurses ran over to me, helping me into a chair. They dragged the clown, who was laughing with his head thrown back, out of the visitor's area.

That was the first time I ever met Mr. J.

It took my family a month to convince me to go back to Arkham after that night. They threw things at me just to get me to feel guilty about avoiding the hospital. Your brother misses you. He can't make any progress if you won't see him. How do you think he feels being locked up and not able to see his baby sister ? Would you like to be in that situation ? Think of someone else for once.

Finally, I had surrendered and forced myself to find the will to go. Every hair on my body stood on end as I signed in. I pressed the pen down hard, trying to prove to myself that I was Harleen Quinzel. Just cause he called me something else doesn't mean I had lost my identity.

Again, Sam sat by the clown, who now had two guards on either side of him. He cocked his head my way as I sat down at a table three yards away, with my back away from him. A big, yellow grin formed on his face before he began to roar with laughter once again.

"Hey, Harl." Sam gave me a weak hug and slid into the chai next to me. I kept my eye on the clown, but shot Sam a smile.

He noticed me staring. "He calls himself The Joker."

"What ?"

"The clown. He calls himself The Joker." Sam repeated, motioning towards the clown. "He's a psychopath. Kills for fun, steals and then burns the money."

I would be lying if I said that it surprised me, hearing that he was a killer. And obviously he's insane, just look at him. I gazed over to The Joker and froze when I saw him watching me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and switched the focus back to my brother.

"So, do you know when you're leaving ?" It was a desperate question, but it was lingering in my mind.

Sam flashed me a white smile. "Actually, they said maybe I'd be free to go by next Tuesday. Said I've been making lots of progress."

"That's great."

"Yeah, it is."

"You'll be home soon."

"And everything will go back to normal."

At night, I was haunted by dreams of The Joker. In my dreams, I would be on the rooftop of the Wayne Tower. The clown would be holding me over the edge, just barely gripping my arm hard enough to keep me from falling. And then, with another piercing laugh, he'd release his grip and I'd fall to my death.

"No !" I sat up in bed, with a layer of sweat covering my face. My heart stopped beating when I realized who was standing at the end of my bed, grinning down at me. The lightning outside flashed, and he was gone.

I sat in bed, trembling and trying to work up the courage to reach over to my nightstand and turn the light on. I did, and the warm glow of the light calmed me down a bit. I rolled out of bed and went over to the window, making sure it was locked.

"Have a bad dream, Harley ?" A gloved hand covered my mouth, muffling my screams of terror. The cold, sharp edge of a knife was pushing against my neck, threatening to cut open an artery and kill me.

"Scream, and I'll kill you." His voice was rough, and the stench of gasoline and smoke filled my nostrils.

He wasn't in the Arkham uniform, but instead he was wearing a nice purple suit. His hair seemed greener than ever under the moon's light, and his smile seemed even more dangerous.

"Get your things and the car keys. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes." He turned to leave, but I grabbed him by the arm. A picture of my family ran through my head.

"Don't hurt my family." Tears welled up in my eyes, making my vision blurry.

He stared me in the eyes for a moment, not saying anything.

"Please."

"Just hurry up."

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, but for now I needed to grab some clothes. I pulled my duffel bag out from under my bed and began throwing in clothes, shoes, anything I knew I would need.

At least, I knew I would need them if he didn't kill me.

I threw the bag over my shoulder and slipped on a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a sweater. I quietly crept down the hallway and down the stairs, and found The Joker rummaging through our fridge. He stuffed his mouth full of food from dinner.

"Are you ready ?" He spat, his mouth full of pizza. I bit my lip and thought, not wanting to mess up.

"Yeah, the keys are on the table by the door."

"Get them and let's go."

We walked out to the door, me following him. I knew this was the beginning of something knew. And I liked it.

Due to the silence between us, the long car ride was awkward. I watched the neighborhoods we drove through, not recognizing any in the darkness of the night. Every few minutes, I would glance towards The Joker, trying to catch a hint of cruel intentions before I was killed.

It had been five minutes, and I glanced over once more. He caught me this time. "What ?"

"I'm sorry."

"You can call me Mr. J if you want, Harley."

"And you can call me Harley, I guess."

He threw his head back and laughed. It sent a chill down my spine, but I liked the fact that I could make him laugh. It eased the tension between us, but my muscles remained tense. I still had my nails digging into the leather seats.

"You know, when your brother would talk about you, I never imagined you'd be this pretty doll." He talked with his hands, his eyes not on the road. "And then, you walked in. That's when I knew I needed to have you."

Another roar of laughter.

"I'm like...a cat ! I saw you in the fishbowl, and I just had to snatch you." He laughed once more. The way he talked about me as if I was food was beginning to scare me.

"You planned to steal me ?"

"Do I look like a guy with a plan ?" He stared at me with a blank look on his face. We were going sixty miles per hour in the dark, and he refused to watch the road.

Yup, I'm going to die.

"You know what I am, Harley ? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do if I caught one !" It was worse when he took his hands off the wheel. "I just do things."

The car swerved and I screamed. Mr. J finally went back to watching the road, but it was too late. We were heading straight for a tree. He did a sharp turn to the right, sending me flying into his arms. We sat there in the middle of the street, catching our breath.

"Oh, Harley. I didn't know you felt this way." He cackled, it was so loud it actually hurt my ears.

"Just drive." I snapped.

"Harley, are you mad ?" He tried to act all innocent.

"You almost killed me."

Bad choice of words.

"Oh, you're surprised that I almost killed you ?" A knife appeared out of nowhere, and he began to rant. "You're surprised ? Really ?"

I pulled away, reaching for the car's door handle. I should've kept my mouth shut, cause now he was really going to finish me off.

"You're surprised ?!" He roared, coming at me with the knife. I brought my leg up and kicked him in the chest, sending him back to his side. The window cracked as he hit his head, and I could see the few drops of blood left on the glass.

I held my breath as he touched the back of his head, and then stared at the blood on his hand. Time stood still.

"You're feisty," He chuckled, the knife's blade shining in the moonlight. "I like that."

Oh yes, this was the beginning of a very long friendship.

Just as the sun was beginning to rise, we reached an abandoned apartment building. It was only four or five stories high, with faded red bricks on the outside, and dozens of boarded up windows. The main entrance had been closed off, but now there was a gap between the wooden planks. It reminded me of a drug house you would see in a movie.

"Home sweet home." Mr. J threw his head back, laughing hysterically at his own joke.

Almost every floorboard inside creaked, and it was almost impossible to breathe with all the dust lingering in the air. Broken pieces of furniture lay scattered in what was once the building's main lobby. I followed Mr. J up the staircase, which also happened to creak with every step, and onto the fourth floor.

At the end of the hall was my new home. It was an average size apartment, nothing too fancy obviously. The bare walls had newspaper articles here and there, with a big goofy grin scribbled onto Batman's face wherever he appeared. There was a rugged, brown couch and a TV set. The kitchen was decent; it had a stove and a refrigerator and a microwave. I could see there was only two rooms, and one was some sort of office or den.

"Go to bed, Harley." Mr. J threw himself down on the coach and began flipping through the channels. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

Taking his advice, or following his order, I dragged my feet into the bedroom. Exhausted from tonight's mayhem, I simply threw my duffel bag under the bed for now and collapsed onto the matress. The last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep was Mr. J's laughter.

It was cold when I woke up a few hours later, and the sun was just barely peeking out from behind the clouds. I sat up and remembered where I was. In the corner of the room, Mr. J stood by the window looking out. He turned to check up on me and smiled when he saw me sitting up.

"Oh, so you aren't dead ?" His words were meant as a joke, but I felt the paranoia begin to build up once again.

I rolled out of bed and stood up. Normally, I would grab my clothes for school and head for the shower. But what was a normal morning routine for The Joker ?

As if to answer my question, Mr. J walked out into the living room and turned the TV on. I followed him without thinking, and leaned against the back of the couch. He watched without moving, carefully taking in every word he was fed.

"Do you want anything for breakfast ?" I mumbled. He motioned for me to go away, but spoke or turned to look at me. I sighed.

Some of the doors to the cabinets were missing or hanging on for dear life, and I could see what little food supply we had. An empty box of Apple Jacks sat on top of the refrigerator, and inside there were a few open cans of soup. I threw it all away and sat by Mr. J, but then my stomach decided to make a growling noise.

"Can I go get some groceries ?" He looked at me out of the corner of his eye briefly.

"Later," He said. "For now, we watch the news."

At last, the commercial had finished and we were back to watching the news. Footage of Arkham Asylum popped up, along with a picture of Mr. J. They rolled some security footage of him escaping, slicing the throats of two security guards before finally reaching the main entrance.

"Authorities are saying that The Joker escaped from Arkham around midnight last night. There is no word on a possible location, but authorities are asking that you all keep an eye out for this man."

A different photo popped up on the screen, and this time it was of me. It was a recent shot; taken about a month before Sam went into Arkham. It was obvious that I was much happier and healthier back then. My skin was not as pale, there was no purple around my eyes due to lack of sleep, and I was smiling.

No one would recognize me now.

"Harleen Quinzel went missing last night as well. She was last seen going to bed, according to her mother and father, around nine o'clock. When they awoke this morning, Harleen was already gone. There has been no sign of forced entry, but authorities have noticed that a large amount of clothes and personal items were taken along with the family's car." Oh shit, they could trace the car down and find us. "Her disappearance is being considered as a runaway case."

"We're going to have to dump the car into the water by the docks." Mr. J turned the TV off and began to pace in the kitchen. Back and forth, back and forth. "And we'll have to chop off your hair and dye it black so that no one can recognize you."

"Alright." I didn't care what he wanted to do at this point. It was a bit exciting to be on the news for once, to shake things up a bit.