Certain death or potential death? Be discovered as an armed mental patient and immediately shot by law enforcement or attempt to slash through a crowd of the weapon-toting criminally insane playing Hunger Games? She looked back at the clock in the visitors' center; twelve twenty five a.m.; five minutes until the fire alarm would go off, opening every cell door, every exterior door, and every other door in between, releasing a bloodthirsty mob of psychos to stumble upon hidden weapons and take out their issues on security guards, doctors, other patients, and anyone or anything else in their vicinity. Masked henchmen would flood in through emergency exits and add fuel to the fire, exciting the patients. Most importantly, the door separating her from all of it would unlock and allow her the chance to make a run for it.
Kala tried to imagine the most terrible images she'd ever seen; grisly pictures of wounded soldiers from overseas on the news, disfiguring wounds, horror movies, violence, blood, guts, surgical procedures, terrorism. She tried to convince herself that she'd probably seen or written worse. She was one hallway away from freedom; that freedom being the third floor fire escape and a black SUV, promised by her doting therapist, Dr. Crane.
A few minutes prior
Holding a hand over her face to protect her ideas from the sudden blinding fluorescent lights, Kala stumbling into the visiting area. "Dr. Crane?"
He stood on the either side of the glass where the loved ones would sit, motioned to one of the booths, and picked up the phone fixed to the divider.
After adjusting to the bright light, Kala's eyes landed on a large, pristinely wrapped, brightly colored present with a big bow sitting in the chair in front of the booth where Dr. Crane sat. It looked like it belonged at a child's birthday party rather than an asylum. She picked up the box, sat in the seat, placed it in her lap, and curiously picked up the phone mounted on her side of the divider.
"Hello Kala."
"Dr. Crane, I hate to be cliché, but why are we in the visitor center instead of your office. I know you're about to correct me and tell me to call you Jonathan, but if you want to be on a first name basis why did you want me to meet you in such an impersonal place rather than in the intimacy of your office?"
"You should open your present. It would be rude not to, considering all the trouble I went to preparing it for you. I thought the wrapping was lovely. Reminiscent of a better time." He smirked and gestured toward the gift.
She raised a confused eyebrow and suspiciously, but carefully peeled back the wrapping paper to withdraw a garment box. She placed it on the table and lifted the lid. Inside laid a worn clown mask, a black janitor's jumpsuit, and a long knife with a red and black handle. With a gasp, the phone slid out from being wedged between her chin and chest. She stared in disbelief at the man across from her. He motioned to the phone again, looking pleased. She picked up.
"What the fu-"
"You're breaking out, we're causing a scene, and it is being set up to frame none other than Harley Quinn herself."
Kala's mind spun, "What the hell are you talking about?!"
"I'm sorry dear, but I'll have to make it quick. All of the security cameras have been disabled as they are every night, but they won't reactivate tonight, or ever. As we speak, your drawings are being collected from your room and a corpse, mutilated beyond recognition is being placed in your bed to account for your disappearance. The door you came in through locked itself upon closing, so you won't be able to exit until the door reopens at exactly 12:30. When that door opens, so will every other door in the building including cell doors and emergency exits-"
"The only way that would happen is if you somehow hacked the-"
"Fire alarm? I have my resources, which I can clue you in on now because you'll either help me or die. Now I apologize for being cliché with my villain speech. Upon the Joker's death, I stole his files on his henchmen and gained their favor with promises of amnesty. Your file was in his stack of potential recruits."
"The Joker wanted to recruit me? Why?!"
"You're brilliant. Your mind is twisted into producing morbid ideas and plans."
"My sketches?"
"Precisely. You have a criminal mind."
"So you want to use me? Now THAT'S cliché and I kind of saw it coming."
"While I won't deny wanting your talents on my side, I'm equally intrigued by you as an individual, warped but beautiful. I'm in need of a companion, a business partner as well. Talking to myself is bound to drive me crazy after a while."
"So not only do you want me to be your horror idea whore, but what? Your accountant? Your actual whore?"
"What do you want to be?"
"Not a mental patient. Or a case study or sidekick of yours"
"Kala, you would be none of those things. I'm trying to help your escape the stigma of the mental patient. Again with the cliché, but a chance to start over; new identity, new life. Finish school under a different name, open your own special effects business with my capital. All I ask is that you help me brainstorm along the way to start up my business. With the Joker gone, I have my chance to ruin Gotham-"
She burst into hysterical laughter, "You've GOT to be f***ing with me."
"More than likely, eventually of course." He smirked. "You need to get into the suit. We don't have much time. You'll get away unidentified and looked like one of the late Joker's cronies which will have presumably been sent by my ex colleague, Dr. Quinzel. So this suit is temporary, but if you'd like to help me full time, we could figure out a new one. I was particularly fond of the female reaper you drew."
"Slow down! What happens when the door opens? All the crazies get released? Then what?"
"More clown henchmen flood the building, bringing weapons for the patients. Chaos ensures, guards are slaughtered, by the time emergency services arrive, it will be a bloodbath. I will have a black SUV parked on the opposite side of the building waiting for you."
She ran a hand through her hair thinking, "So where's the secret passageway I'm supposed to use?"
He laughed, "There's no passageway."
She scooted back, "But…but the exit on the other side of the building is ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BUILDING PACKED WITH WEAPON WIELDING MANIACS!"
"Which is why I provided you the knife." He explained, coldly, clearly unaffected by her panic.
Kala froze, wide eyes staring at the floor. Her face flushed and her eyes began welling up.
"Don't worry, the patients will not have weapons larger than yours, and the clowns won't shoot you, provided you're wearing the mask."
"That doesn't matter…Some of those people are bigger than me…Some of them have a history of going nuts and slashing people! Some of them have used weapons before!...I haven't." She sniffed, "I'm going to die tonight, aren't I?"
He sat back, jaded, and didn't answer.
"Aren't I?!" She yelled into the phone, tears spilling over. I'm really a goner. This is it. This is wrong. I could be waking up in my cell tomorrow morning, marking off days until my release and instead I'm going to be slaughtered in the same damned building. I'm going to die in here. I'm never getting out. I'll die before I finish my degree. I'll die before my first legal taste of alcohol. I'm dying a virgin. I'm dying and no one outside will notice or care and it's all his fault. You should've known better than to get involved. You should've reported him then stayed away. STUPID! STUPID!
"That's entirely up to you." He licked his lips and leaned forward towards the glass, "Make it to the car, and you'll never see this place again. You'll be happy, and wealthy, and free. In twenty four hours you and I can be sipping wine in a candlelit hot tub. And I suggest you learn to withhold the tears, you're better than that."
"You bastard! You rigged all of this, so you could've just as easily gotten me out without this mess!" She stood, panting, tensing her hands into fists, and pacing. He could've saved you, but instead he's going to ensure you die. What to do? What are you going to do Kala?
His unamused expression tipped her over the edge.
The knife still sat in the box. She ran her hand over it, then in one swift moved, grasped it and lunged at the glass divider. "YOU!" THWACK! "COULD'VE!" THWACK! "SAVED ME!" She furiously slashed at the bullet proof barrier.
Dr. Crane grinned, "You know what they say, hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn." With that, he stood, and placed the phone back in its cradle.
THWACK! THWACK! "YOU CAN HELP ME!" THWACK THWACK THWACK! The glass didn't even crack. "HELP ME! PLEASE! TAKE ME WITH YOU!" THWACK THWACK!
From his side of the wall, he only heard the clicking of the blade against the several inches of glass. Her voice was faint and sounded like it was coming from underwater. He was calm, his side was quiet aside from the steady tick-tock of the omniscient clock behind him.
She was screaming loud enough to make her throat hurt and her ears ring. "GET ME OUT OF HERE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! YOU BASTARD!" THWACK THWACK.
Finally, he screamed back at her, excited in a sadistic manner, "YES! Channel that anger! That's exactly what I want to see! Use the violence! Yes! That's how you swing the knife! I'll see you on the other side my pet!" He turned and went towards the door.
"DON'T GO! JONATHAN! DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE TO DIE!...JONATHAN!" He exited without a word.
After several more swings, she gave up and collapsed into a sniveling fetal positon on the freezing, speckled tile. Another moment later she realized that wailing would do her no good. She sat up and wiped her eyes and nose with her hand, then stared at the opened gift. See you on the other side? Dick. My pet? Asshole. I hate him. You shouldn't have gotten involved. Moron. Why wouldn't he just break me out? Why all of this?...This has to be a test of some sort. A test of my ability to kill or my ability to keep from being killed? I get out and he's gonna make me do horrible things, isn't he?
She stood, reluctantly and held out the suit. She put it on. What if I have to kill someone in order to save myself? That's not wrong, right? Yes I've considered what it would be like to kill someone in the past, but that was different. Not real people with lives and families. Just flesh and what it would be left to cut or rip into. You can't deny you've thought about those things. How hard do you have to stab someone the make the knife go all the way through? How hard do you have to squeeze an eyeball to get it to burst? I can find out without penalty here. It's not like these people, these patients have lives…their families practically abandoned them. Hell, most of them were practically corpses already. But killing for fun is immoral. Murder is only ok in self-defense. I'll have to defend myself, so I'll probably kill somebody. Let that sink it. She stared at her reflection in the glass as she put on the clown mask. It's not that long a hallway. You can sprint across in twenty seconds or less. Maybe I won't have to even use my knife.
Return to the present:
Or maybe I want to. He said channel the anger. I'm mad at him. He could've save me but instead he gambles me in a game. Bastard. I'll make it through this. I'm going to save my life to end his. I'll sprint the distance, jump down the fire escape, and slash his throat. Then I'll take the car and run away on my own.
The clock's ticking took her out of her deeper thoughts. Ten seconds. She shifted back and forth on her feet as she stood before the door. Nine. Eight. Seven. She felt the heavy weight of her weapon in her hand and shook out the tension. Six. Five. Four. She took several deep breaths. You're gonna kill him. Three. Two. One.
The lights cut off.
The generator buzzed.
Red exit signs glowed and illuminated the hallway.
Her door clicked unlocked as did every other door in the building. Confused patients sat up in their beds, woken from the clicking and red glow.
AHRUUUUUUUUUUGHAAAAAA! The alarm sounded. AHRUUUUUUUUUUGHAAAAAA! Show time. Do or die to a whole new level. It was like those torture movies she liked. The face of the target faced puppet appeared in her head and his voice grumbled, "Live or die, the choice is yours." She rammed into the door and ran for her life.
