Chapter Two: Ice
A tall, grizzly man with an obnoxiously huge beer gut, long oily Kid Rock-esc hair, shoots into my mind first. The mere thought of him repulses me to my core while hatred and disgust. The image of me, the sixteen year old pops into my head; tall lean body, tight blue jeans, black Chuck Taylors, ripped up Slipknot T-shirt. My long blond hair is up in pigtails, my bangs in my face. The shit-hole of a place that the party was at that night appears next, the graffiti on the brick outside, sluts and drunken druggies liter the floor inside. The furniture is both out of date and unusable, with tatters and tears in all the fabric, the wood of the end tables is rotting and chipping away. Great place for a party.
My cousin, Pamela, I called her Pam, replaces the slum. Her long red curls hang down her back, her little, tight green dress that barely covered her ass. She was the one who talked me into going with her, because I didn't want her to go by herself and end up hurt, funny how things turned out. Pam had brought me to this party and then once we got there she took it upon herself to leave me alone with a bunch of strangers, just so she can get high, drunk, and fucked.
After about two hours of fighting idiot drunks who took it upon themselves to come onto me, I decided to leave. I hadn't cared that my house was six blocks away, or that it was 2 o'clock in the morning, or that I was alone. I trudged on. I took off down the hall way, pushing people out of my way, anger biting at my manners. My black combat boots assault the concrete sidewalk. I had walked for what seemed like forty minutes when the sound of shuffling feet and low voices bounced off of the walls. Low humanistic growls echoed around me. Searing pain took my breath away, and then my face had rushed to meet the concrete.
From there the memories come tenfold; the cold leather chair, the sounds of his knuckles, the smell of tobacco, the excruciating pain in my sacred area between my legs, the screaming, crying, yelling, begging. The memories last longer than I care to accept. Uncontrollable tears stream down my ashen face. I have made my way to the not-so-comforting comfort of my bed. I wrap my arms and legs around my pillow and sobs start racking my body.
My alarm clock wakes me from an empty and restless sleep, alerting me that it is seven o'clock, time for work. Tripping on my hangover all the way to the bathroom, I find my head in the toilet. After that lovely debacle I brush my teeth and then apply my makeup, to hide the night before. I don my black pencil skirt, white button-up, black heels, white lab coat and I pull my hair back into a bun. I pick my car keys up from the floor and head for the front door. My little black bug, although ancient, is quite durable. I slide in and my kitten purrs to life. The ride to Arkham serves as more time to my thoughts, which is dangerous. Thoughts of med school run through my head; I absentmindedly look at my name tag, 'Dr. Harleen Quinzel, PH.D.' Eight years of nothing but pain and stress for that title.
My first day as a psychology resident is bringing unwanted memories also. How very nostalgic I am today. Guy Kopski's face in my head almost makes me wreck. His sweet and handsome features invade my thoughts. I pull my car over and cry. Guy was my college boyfriend, the very typical physics major; tall, slinky, handsome with his beard and glasses, very nerdy and amazing. I loved him… and he loved me too. He was the epitome of brilliant; had developed a wonderful sports and mind enhancing energy drink he called, 'Think Drink'. He also had an ingenious thesis his graduating year called, 'Chaos Theory'. Everything was panning out for him and me the way it was supposed to.
My professor, Dr. Markus, was threatening to fail me, for no reason might I add, but he said he'd pass me if I designed and conducted an experiment. I decided on my theory, which basically stated that people will do just about anything for love. I used Guy to help prove this. My Experiment was: I was going to fabricate a lie – Dr. Markus tried to rape me and then pulled a gun on me when I tried to escape, I shot but didn't kill him and ran away—and I was going to see how Guy reacted to this lie.
That morning had started out bad. Guy wasn't acting like himself, stumbling around like he was drunk, dazed and confused. But I had decided to go on with the experiment as planned, silly me. I got to school and stayed a few hours in the library, working on my analysis paper for the whole thing, giving everything enough of a timeline to happen on realistically. After I calculated would be long enough, I packed my things and disheveled myself to look the part. I walked into the apartment slowly, horrified look on my face.
After I told the lie, Guy went crazy, cussing and screaming. He ran to our hall closet and got his baseball bat, and ran to the door. I blocked his way and he pushed me. I was knocked out by the end table's vicious corner. When I came to I rushed to find Guy. I ran to the Psychology building and in front of the building, rising on the sidewalk screaming and crying was guy. Two feet in front of him was a body that had been brutally beaten to death. The baseball bat Guy had was lying at his side, covered in blood.
Guy looked at me then, blood speckling his face, tears streaming down his face. He raised his shaking hands at me, and said, "I thought he was Markus, I only wanted to protect you." Sobs racked his body and he hung his head in shame. He looked at me again, except this time resolve washed his face. "Harlz, don't let them arrest me. I can't live the rest of my life in a jail cell, thinking about this constantly." Guy reached over to the dead man's body and pulled a 9mm out of his pants. He handed it to me and pleaded with me to end it.
Everything goes black and I find myself in my car again. My trembling hands fumble to turn the car keys and start the vehicle. Once on the path to Arkham Asylum, my head clears and I decide to remain numb for the remainder of the day, and preferably my life.