Chapter 8
Why So Stressed?
"Are you still hurting?" I asked Dr. Arkham after I had finished dressing the wounds.
"Yes." he said. I can't say I was surprised.
I leaned forward and looked at his wrists. To my disappointment I found handcuffs on him. If it had been rope or duct tape or something else, I could have loosened it or maybe even found a way to cut it off. With handcuffs, he was stuck.
"Do you have any family?" I asked him sitting back on my heels.
"I have a wife. But I'm afraid that I will never see her again." he almost whispered, tears filling in his eyes.
""Don't say that. I'm sure when the Joker's had his fun and he's ready he will let us go. He's just gathering allies here. Once he finds enough henchmen, he'll leave." I said in a reassuring voice. But whether it was to comfort me or Dr. Arkham, I wasn't sure.
"Do you honestly think he'll let us go?" Dr. Arkham said. There was a hint of anger in his voice that startled me.
"In the end, he'll have to let us go. I mean, he can't drag us along forever. I'm sure of it." I said touching my hand to my chest.
"How can you be so sure?" He said glaring at me.
"Because of the Batman. He always comes for those who need help and I highly doubt that it will go unnoticed that the Joker took over Arkham Asylum. We just need to wait this out." I said.
I knew I had to leave the room soon or the Joker would get pissed. I stood and looked at the broken man on the floor.
"Hang in there." I said and moved to the door before leaving.
Standing with my back against the door I fell to the floor crying. Dr. Arkham was right. How could I be so sure? No one had noticed that the Asylum had been overrun by the Joker and its inmates. And Batman wasn't coming for that reason. We were both dead. Gathering up my sorrow and turning it to anger, for the Joker and what he had done to Dr. Arkham and me, I stood and moved down the hall quickly, with great determination.
Standing outside of Dr. Arkham's former office, with shaking hands, I slid the nurse's card key in the slot and threw open the door before yelling, "Joker, you…" I stopped short before freezing. The Joker stood behind the desk with his pants down, a strong erection in his hands.
He smiled as I stared.
"See something you like?" He asked, teasing me, before sliding himself into his pants and zipping up. Too embarrassed and shy to move, all the anger was gone for a moment, replaced with utter mortification. I stepped forward, the anger coming back at the thought of Dr. Arkham.
"Haven't you heard of knocking? You know it's rude to barge into someone's office, especially when they're busy." he said sitting down in the chair behind him.
"Busy, what? Masturbating while someone dies on the floor in another room?" I shouted, letting the anger flow in hopes of winning this conversation. Perhaps fighting might let me win. If only I could stand my ground.
"I'm under a lot-uh of stress right now." he said while pointing a finger at me. His hand was shaking.
"Well I would be too if I spent as much time as you did causing chaos and killing people." I all but shouted while walking over to his desk. I was now two feet away from him. Both of our bodies were shaking in rage.
"You have no idea what you are saying. Chaos and, uh, killing people, that's fun. Not that you'd understand. I bet you've never even tried it. It's the business end that's so stressful." he said, coming around the desk to face me. I was three inches from him now.
"That's why I came here. To help you handle that stress and hopefully help you get out of here legally. I fought to come here and now I don't want to be here with you. Not when you are like this." I shouted.
The room was filled with the resounding smack as his hand met my face.
"Don't you ever talk to me like that. I am your boss, you do as I say." He said.
I held my face in my hands at the mere shock of the hit. He had never hit me before. He was becoming more violent. And I had been the cause of it. I was not helping him. I was making him worse. But why? How? I had never failed to help a patient before. They either reacted to submission or to violence. I had tried both with the Joker and had gotten the same outcome both times. Why couldn't I fix him?
"Go back to your cell now! Before I take you there myself." He said, pointing to the door. I turned. My hand was still on my burning cheek and as I opened the door slowly. Before leaving, I looked back at his shaking form, which was leaning against the desk, his breath heavy. Then I left, silently shutting the door behind me.
I did exactly as he asked and went straight to my cell before crying myself to sleep. I had to think of a way to get Dr. Arkham out of here and fix the Joker. Both tasks so hard to do. And yet I was determined to get them done. Although I had little belief in myself now that I knew he would always win until he himself wanted to change. I had to make him want to change. I had to make him lose his own game and then when he was in utter failure, comfort him and help him win in order to change himself. But would he let me help him?
