This story was adapted from Kendra Luehr's Screams and Whispers.
Harley is not like she is in the comics and or cartoons. She is mostly dark, and sophisticated. I depict her to be about 20 even though the comics say she isn't. Just so she's not a pedophile. Tate is 19. This is 10 years after Violet told Tate to leave. Chapter 1 is following Kendra's. Oh and in my version the ghosts of the house can go wherever the living inhabitant is.
Original- .net/s/7589774/1/Screams_and_Whispers
Third person
Harleen Quinzel's oceanic optics scanning the aged landscape of her soon-to-be home for the time being. She gently pushed on the wrought iron gates and stepped onto the property. Her low heels clicked as she came closer to the worn front door. Harley bit her bottom lip as a sign of nervousness and looked at her shoes.
She wasn't paying attention to the things in front of her when she twisted her ankle and fell to the ground. She cursed lightly under her breath, retrieved her fallen heel, and stood up. The warmth of a fresh wound spreading throughout her knees.
Her eyes stayed glued to her broken shoe as she tested her walking capabilities. She kept staring at her foot for a solid minute and a half then she scolded herself for stalling. She resumed walking with a slight limp. She reached the porch and started climbing the steps when the door opened it revealed a elderly woman with flaming red hair and a grey eye.
Harley smiled lightly and extended her hand. "Harleen Quinzel. I'm here for Mr. Langdon, Is he here?" The woman nodded curtly and gave her hand a small shake, "Follow me Miss."
Harley's blue pools scanned the vast house and all of its amenities. Persian rugs, Tiffany window fixtures, and all redone rooms. "What a lovely home you've gotten Miss _?"
The woman smiled as she led her throughout the house
"Moira Miss." She paused and gestured towards a pair of French doors, " Moira O' Hara."
Harley gave a small nod and pressed against the silver doorknobs. She scanned the room and saw him leaning on the wall on the other side of the room.
She coughed and he whipped his head around. His mouth set in a grimace, he trudged slowly over to the leather loveseat and sat down. She hesitantly took a seat across from him in the recliner.
After a moment of silence Harley stretched her ivory hand out and said "Dr, Harleen Quinzel. I'm here to-" Tate cut her off "I know why you're here. To try and sort out my fucked up mind right? Or to try and help me with one of those god forsaken mind tricks? Am I getting warmer?" She curtly shook her head and pursed her lips.
"Those kind of accusations must get you in trouble. Is that true Mr. Langdon?" Harley said confidently.
Tate scoffed like she had said the most ridiculous thing in the world. He knew she would break within the month. She continued anyway "Do you know that you've been having dreams about killing people?" He gave her a stare that just said 'Are you fucking kidding me?'
"It's just a question Tate." She assured him. That earned her another glare. "Of course it's only a question. I'm batshit crazy not stupid." He said brazenly.
She stared at his stony, yet vulnerable face. He was hoping she wasn't going to judge him. She never had an intention to. "No one ever said you were crazy, Tate." He laughed scornfully and replied "Then why does it say that on my file?" She started to become defensive of Tate , mostly because she was breaking him down. Harley knew this because his voice was faltering and cracking.
"A piece of paper means nothing. Actions speak louder than words." She tried to make him see that by trying to give examples. She came up short. "Listen Dr Quinzel. May I call you Harleen?" She nodded slowly.
She felt like she needed him to be as calm as possible or something terribly wrong would happen. "Harleen, I can't be helped, nor do I want to be, so if you would please allow me to exit it'll all work out great." A sneer entered his features as he started to stand and walk away.
Harley's tolerance level lowered dangerously. She huffed, got up, gripped the hem of his sleeve and pulled him closer to her. Her head was at his shoulder so she had to crane her neck up to look at him.
The speech she had been building upin her head vanished and in it's stead stood pure anxiety.
He was just as breath-less as she was because he did jot utter a word of refusal. The started mutually moving closer to one another . "We're done for today, Tate." She said quietly turning to collect her paperwork.
He stood there, staring at her, making no move to leave whatsoever. It wasn't until she brushed past his shoulder that he moved, but only to turn his neck and watch her walk into the kitchen.