"Code Red in the West Wing, room 331" the voice announces over the speakers as medical personnel and guards race by the open door of the staff lounge. Harley glances up from her notes and turns to me, rolling her eyes. "That'll be J again," she says shaking her head, "I should probably go see what's up." She stands, sighing, and quickly puts her blonde hair into a loose ponytail. I study her face; she looks tired. She always looks tired nowadays. Harley looks like someone else. She had taken the Joker on as a patient a few months ago, and ever since then she had been different. Distracted. Out of her mind exhausted. She's always talking about him, going on and on about how he had a rough childhood and shouldn't be punished for things that really aren't his fault. Whatever. We used to talk all the time, about stupid things. Boys, booze, whatever. It didn't matter because it was us talking and we were together; inseparable. Now she wants to spend more time with the Clown Prince of Crime than me. Sometimes it felt like she wasn't the same person that I met in college. Of course, working in an asylum with some of the cities most notorious and dangerous criminals takes a toll on you, but this was something else. "Alright, be careful H. I know he's taken a certain, erm…fascination with you, but apparently he's in a bad mood today" I said, referencing the announcement. She offers me a small smile as she picks up her notebook and places her hand on my shoulder as she walks by me. "I always am Summer," she said before disappearing out the door and into the hall.
I turn back to my computer, analyzing the files of an incoming patient. Cat Woman. Again. Great. Against my better judgment, I open a new tab and begin to hack (illegally observe) Joker and Harley through the security camera footage. The way she talks to him is different than anything I've ever seen. She has a bad habit of bringing him gifts – this time a plush kitten – and showing immense sympathy for his psychotic ways. Sometimes when Harley's telling me about his sad past and messed up childhood, I forget who she's talking about and feel some empathy for him. Then I remember and tell her she's crazy and that I feel nothing. I always say that I feel nothing. Do I always feel nothing? This happens quite a bit. It's very concerning. It's also what I tell my therapist.
I put my headphones in and listen in to Harley's conversation with J. He's asking for a machine gun again. Honestly, I'm not sure how much longer I can work here. Especially because of these two yahoo's. Oh my God, yahoo's? I sound like my dad. Anyway, I need to go home. Tomorrow's my day off and I can't deal with Harley being an idiot anymore, as much as I love her. That being said, I sit and watch the rest of the session before jetting home. Ah, home. Complete with a walk-in closet and the world's smallest bathroom/shower, it's a pretty great home considering how much I'm paid every year. I walk in and collapse face first on the couch. Dear God. "This pillow smells like my dead cat" I say aloud, a curious look on my face. Figures. I turn on the television, take off my bra (my favorite part of the day) and snuggle into my couch ready to sleep all night and all day tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I went to med school and studied phycology for years alongside Harley, but it's always freezing in the asylum. And there are no windows and I'm somehow always find myself listening to Harley and "Mr. J" talk about their twisted….friendship. I can't think about this anymore, it's all I ever think about. My eyes slowly shut and I lull myself to sleep thinking about my messed up life and best friend.
I wake up to countless texts and missed calls from the asylum. Is today not my day off? Shit. Shit fuck shit balls. Oh Jesus. I quickly scan over the texts. Wait, what? They're saying there's been an attack at the asylum. Oh shit. I call Derek, a fellow doctor, and wait anxiously for him to pick up. He does on the fourth ring. "Derek? Oh thank God. What happened? I'm not supposed to be in today. Oh my God. Is Harley okay? Oh my God. I should be there. I should come. Why aren't I there? I'm coming right now don't tell me not to becau-" "He took Harley, Summer. She's gone" he interrupts. I'm not sure what to say to him. I take a deep breath and say, "Who are you talking about Derek? Who took Harley?" praying that I wasn't right. Praying that the person I think took her, didn't take her. I hear Derek sigh over the phone before responding, "You know who Summer. The Joker took Harley."
