Chapter 6
Joan and I had completed our tour of the facility and then I met with my first patient. His name was Thomas Schiff and he suffered from paranoid schizophrenia. He was small, slim with dark hair and an olive complexion. The first thing I noticed about him were the multiple motor tics. It made him twitchy and nervous and I was going to have to increase his dosage of Klonopin to help alleviate it. It took me thirty minutes to get him to even speak to me, but eventually he began to open up and overall I felt it was a good session.
The rest of my sessions were pretty standard, nothing all that interesting, but productive all the same. I was sitting in my office waiting for my last patient of the day to arrive. She was a twenty-year-old depressive with a self-injury compulsion named Renee Lylo. I have had a good deal of experience with this particular compulsion in the past and successfully treated it, so I was very hopeful I would be able to help her overcome it. I glanced at my wall clock and noticed she was fifteen minutes late.
You may not be aware that not all of the patients here are committed by the state. Actually most of the patients at Arkham are there of their own accord or committed by family members on a temporary basis. As such, they have complete autonomy and do not need to be escorted to sessions. The patients in those wards, A, B & C Wards respectively, have many freedoms that the patients in Intensive Treatment and Special Containment do not get to enjoy. There are common rooms with television, games, arts and crafts and musical instruments available. A cafeteria where all three wards met for meals and an outdoor area where patients could garden, play basketball or just walk the grounds.
Since I had been cooped up in my office all day I decided to stretch my legs and walk up to B Ward to retrieve Renee for our session rather than send one of the orderlies. I grabbed her chart and headed to the east wing elevators. I arrived at the third floor and headed towards room 308B. When I got to her room the door was closed, so I quietly knocked suspecting that the medications she was currently taking may have fatigued her. When I received no response I knocked a bit louder and after a third knock with no response I threw open the door.
I was in utter shock at the scene before me. Renee was lying on her side on the floor in a large puddle of her own blood. I raced over to her body, knelt beside her and quickly turned her onto her back. I immediately felt for a pulse and it was there but it was very weak. I ran my eyes over her body and saw the source of the blood. She had a deep cut on her inner arm just below the elbow. Lying beside Renee's body was a surgical scalpel. I had no idea how she had gotten it but I speculated that she attempted to make a shallow cut and misjudged how keen the blade was causing her to nick the basilic vein. I grabbed my panic button from my pocket and activated it, then while applying pressure to the wound looked around frantically for something to use as a tourniquet.
Within seconds two orderlies and a security guard burst into the room. I turned and pointed at one of the orderlies, "You, I need a gurney in here stat!" I looked at the other two. The orderly was in scrubs but the security guard wore a uniform, a uniform with a belt. "And you take off your belt and give it to me, NOW!"
Once I had secured the belt around Renee's upper arm the other orderly arrived with the gurney. Without discussion we picked up our patient, strapped her onto the gurney and began running hell bent for the infirmary.
Moments later we burst through the infirmary doors. Ben was on duty and when he looked up and saw me soaked in blood he sprinted over to us.
"Dr. Quinzel, what happened!?" He looked me over frantically, saw I was fine then approached my patient and started to examine her while I explained to him how I found her. He looked up at me, "She's lost a lot of blood. I need to get her into surgery immediately." He began to wheel her towards the surgical suite at the rear of the room. Ben glanced at me over his shoulder. "Stay here and I'll have one of the nurses come update you when she's out of danger." Then they were through the doors and I was seemingly alone.
I was still shaking with adrenaline when I looked down and finally noticed the state of myself. My grey skirt was soaked with blood from the hem to about mid-thigh, my blouse and lab coat were also drenched in gore. I examined my hands to see blood drying on my skin and seeping into my cuticles and underneath my nails. I looked around the room. On either side there were three medical bays separated with curtains for privacy. I spied a sink with a mirror towards the back of the room and headed over to the sink to wash off as much of the mess as possible. I looked in the mirror and noticed I must have brushed my face with the back of one of my hands because there was a smear of blood across my forehead as well. I grabbed a handful of paper towels, ran them under warm water and began scrubbing at my stain on my face.
"Oh, don't do that dollface. It's so rare to see a beautiful woman drenched in blood in this dismal place, unless I'm the one who did it to her of course."
I turned as I heard the familiar titter of laughter. There strapped to the bed, was the Joker. He was fully restrained, thank God. Heavy leather straps crossed his calves, thighs, hips, waist and chest. Both of his ankles and his left wrist were individually cuffed to the bed frame. He was lying at such an angle as to make him have to lift his head off the pillow to look at me.
"You're supposed to be sedated." I replied warily. His facial swelling had gone down significantly since I saw him last, but he was still severely bruised. His left arm was in a cast and he was still missing a front tooth.
"Yes, yes, the doctors here like to protect themselves from my sudden fits of inspiration" He cackled evilly and continued. "But they can only give me so much without killing me so, here we are!" I ignored him and continued to lather my hands with soap.
"You know toots, I really think red is your color." I continued to focus on the task at hand refusing to acknowledge him. "Come now, sunshine. You don't have to be shy with your Uncle Joker."
I glared at him and I could feel the color rising in my face because he was pissing me off.
"My name is Doctor Quinzel, and if you can't use it I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from talking!" I was still envisioning throttling him for what he did to my car.
"Well, aren't you feisty?" He leered at me unpleasantly, "I like that. So, why the hostility Doc? Have I killed someone you know?"
"You can really stop talking now." I had removed most of the blood from my skin and silently prayed that the nurse would come out soon with an update so I could get the hell out of there
"No that's not it, is it? Oh come on, Doc! Throw me a bone here! Did I blow up your house, or maybe run over your puppy?" I started walking away to get out of his line of sight.
"Awwww, don't go yet. It's so boring in here all alone. How about keeping a guy company for a while? I swear I haven't slit a throat in weeks! Or was it days? I can never keep track! Hahahahaha!" Since I didn't reply he just kept on talking. "So Doctor Quinzel, you must be the one I hear people whispering about. Am I wrong in assuming you've had a chilly reception so far?" I studied my cuticles and pointedly continued ignoring him. "You should hear the terrible things I've heard them gossip about. Clearly they're just jealous of you. Bright young doctor, a pretty little thing too, getting too much attention from dear Dr. Arkham. I guess you already know what everyone assumes about that?"
I had figured as much but it still hurt to hear it out loud, even though I knew the Joker was goading me. Still, I found myself walking back toward the medical bay and stood with my hands on my hips and a smirk on my face.
"Gee, isn't that what everyone assumes about successful women these days. God forbid they have a brain in their head, no, a woman can only get ahead with what's in between her legs. You're not telling me anything I don't already know, Joker and if you think it bothers me you've got another think coming."
"Quinzel, that's an interesting name. What's your first name, Doc?"
"None of your damn business, that's what it is." He raised his eyebrows.
"Oh ho ho, have I struck a nerve doctor?"
He kind of had at that, I liked my name fine but I knew the connection he would make out of it. In that instant the doors to the surgical suite opened and Dr. Stone stepped out and approached me.
"Harleen, good you're still here. Ren-"
"Your first name is Harleen? Oh that is just too good! That is hysterical! Pretty. Little. Doctor. Harlequin. That is just fantastic!" His guffaw filled the room and I finally lost my cool.
"I've heard it before! So can it clown, before I give you a knuckle sandwich that'll leave you asking Santa for your two front teeth for Christmas!" In response he just chortled and cackled until I looked up at Ben.
"Can we discuss this outside please? I've heard just about enough outta this jerk!"
I stormed out of the infirmary with Ben following behind me. It occurred to me that I let my accent slip out and hoped he hadn't noticed.
"Harley, I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was conscious. I just sedated him, I never would have left you alone with him otherwise."
"Its fine Ben, just bring me up to speed on my patient."
"We were able to cauterize the vein and I stitched her up. I had to transfuse her, she's on her second pint now. She should be fine but she needs to stay in the infirmary on suicide watch for 72 hours." I sighed.
"Ben that was not a suicide attempt, I promise you. You can't keep her here with…him."
"If that wasn't a suicide attempt then what do you call it?" He asked impatiently.
"She's a cutter, Ben. Trust me when I tell you I know the difference between self-harm gone wrong and a suicide attempt." My already thin patience was growing thinner by the minute.
"Look, Harley the state dictates the rules, not me. She ne-"
"Look! Don't try to tell me what she needs, she's my patient and I say the worst thing we can do is keep her here!" Ben was getting annoyed with me, I could tell.
"How do you know for sure this wasn't a suicide attempt?" he asked coldly.
I grabbed the bottom of my blouse, pulled it out of my skirt and lifted it so my right side was exposed to just below my bra. Ben gaped at seeing a line of straight scars that ran the length of my side, many of which you could tell had been deep or had been re-opened over the years to have so extensively scarred.
"Because I've had a lot of experience Dr. Stone!" Ben backpedaled and softened his voice when he responded.
"I'm sorry Harley, I didn't know."
"Listen, can't we flub the paperwork? I can't leave her here!" I looked at him pleadingly as I lowered my shirt. A tall orderly brushed past us and entered the infirmary doors behind me. Ben exhaled through his mouth as his shoulders relaxed.
"Okay Harley, but if something goes wrong in the next 72 hours it's on you." I admit I squealed a little as I threw my arms around his waist and squeezed.
"Thank you, thank you!" and then realizing I was hugging my co-worker I let go abruptly and smiled shyly. "Um, sorry about that. I've had an emotional couple of days." I pushed my glasses onto the bridge of my nose and regained my composure as he chuckled at me for my indiscretion. "I totally owe you one, Ben. Thanks again." I looked down at myself and realized I still looked like the victim in a slasher flick. "Crap." I deadpanned, "Now what am I gonna do?"
"If I were you, I'd go home, take a long shower and have a few drinks, or a valium."
"But I still have to update my files!" I whined.
"There's no rule that says you can't do that at home, ya know. Word of advice though, keep an overnight bag in your office from now on. You just never know what's going to happen here in Arkham on any given day." He gave me a brilliant smile and I returned it.
"Good idea. I think a shower sounds like heaven right now! Thanks again, I really appreciate it. G'night Ben."
As I took off down the hallway so I could grab my purse and head home I noticed the same orderly slinking out of the infirmary. He looked down at his shoes and wouldn't meet my eyes. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but I would later.