A Man of His Word

Chapter One: For the Record

"Why don't we start from the very beginning?" asked Doc.

"Where's the beginning?" I asked curiously, shrugging.

"The first time that you met him."

"It's a long story, Doc."

"You have my undivided attention," she said to me with a subtle confidence, as if to guarantee me that this was a safe place. Isn't that what these sort of people say in order to get me talking?

Her presence was a right sight better than her predecessors. She seemed kind, genuine, and although I wanted to trust her explicitly, I suspected that she had ulterior motives for treating me as one of her patients.

"What do you want to know?" I asked with narrowed eyes. I looked her up and down, attempting to absolve any signs of deceit. I couldn't find any. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to help you." Doc replied. She fidgeted absent-mindedly with a blue pen between her fingers. I wondered briefly how many times that she had to say that, or had said that to quickly move on to the real juicy details of a client's mental illness. Isn't that what they do, psychiatrists? Appease, please, and tease and then nothing.

Her real name wasn't Doc; but after all this time, their faces looked all alike. One psychiatrist had degrees just like the next. It didn't matter to me what her name was. I just knew that Dr. Arkham finally sat her down in front of me in my very own room that was assigned to me. I didn't feel comfortable talking about some of the stuff that happened to me to the male doctors. She might have told me her name once or twice, but I stopped asking.

"You're awfully quiet," said Doc. She collected her long, blonde hair into a very tight bun with a clasp, and she pushed her rectangular glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"You're awfully pretty for a psychiatrist," I observed.

"Let's get right into it, Costlee." Doc tabled my observation for a later date; I guessed that she already knew that I was trying to deflect her. "Costlee, why don't you want to talk about J—"

"I don't call him that," I objected.

Doc nodded slowly, and then she wrote something in that small pen pad that she held in her hands. It irked me. I wanted to know what she wrote down; but in a quick second, I had a feeling that whatever it was that she had written would just anger me or upset me. And I didn't want to feel angry.

"All right, so we won't call him that name." Doc pacified me. "But in order for us to move forward with your sessions, I do have to have you name him, for the record. Is that all right?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child." I muttered. I turned away from her. A slightly painful crinkle happened around my neck, and I knew as always that the sudden twinge meant that I was angry; but I didn't want to feel angry. So instead, I inhaled a long sigh, staring at the wall closest to me. Doctors, lawyers, psychiatrists—they all irked me so badly. Not as bad as cops, though.

"For the record. Please," Doc added. "And I won't ask you to say it again."

I consented. I nodded, and she nodded with me, as if to make certain for a second time that we were on the same page.

"All right. So. Costlee Price, for the record..." she referred to her pen pad, "Do you understand that these next few sessions with me are strictly voluntary and you understand that any point in time, you may ask to cut the session short, should you begin to have suicidal or homicidal thoughts?"

"Yes."

"Costlee, do you understand that the reason why I am here is to help you overcome your hostage identification disorder—?"

"I don't have Stockholm Syndrome," I sighed irritably. Why did they all try to sugar coat exactly what they mean? Just say what you mean, for God's sake.

"Your belief that you are in love with Joker despite your kidnapping, torture, rape—"

"He didn't rape me," I insisted. "It was consensual."

"But he did hurt you. But you're angry because I mentioned that." Doc replied incredulously.

"He has done some bad things, but he never," I heard my voice tremble, "used force like that when we were together. He killed people; and he kidnapped me. And he did some horrible stuff to his men..."

"We'll get to what he did or didn't do through our sessions, Costlee." Doc remarked. "I know, though, that you saw some things that otherwise wouldn't have happened if he didn't kidnap you. I'm here to help you through that. That's why I am here. You also complied with his crimes, went along with it."

"I did." I agreed with that.

"And in order to help you, you have to give me your account of exactly how it happened—what he did, what you did, what you heard, what you've seen...over the course of the last year. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I agreed.

Even the knowledge of this began to make my stomach lurch uncomfortably. But this was the deal that my attorney told me that we would agree to. A little urchin new to the law offices, I wonder if he had actually known what he was doing when we agreed to this. But honestly, I didn't see him standing in my room, guiding me through this whole ordeal. What's this 'we' shit?

Doc reached for my arm, and she placed a cold hand there to comfort me. I glanced at that red-polished hand for a second. I wanted to push her hand away, but I supposed that I almost liked her presence. It was easier, after all, to speak to a female doctor rather than the alternative: A nasty fellow, Dr. Hugo Strange, who was more interested in sticking some electrodes on me rather than speak to me.

"For the record, Costlee," insisted Doc. She placed a recorder on the bedside table. "Please."

I sighed, shrugged, collected myself.

"My name is Costlee Price," I said with concise clarity for both the recorder and Doc. "I was kidnapped by the one known as the Clown Prince of Crime, Joker, who held me captive for a year. I understand that Doc intends to provide therapy and counsel in order to move forward with my treatment."

"What did you call him, Costlee?"

"Boss. He asked me to call him Boss," I said with a shrug, trying to play it off. But a smile tugged at the corners of my lips, as I recalled it. "I didn't start out working with him, as I wasn't a willing employee of his at first. But he made sense...after a while."

"Tell me how it happened, Costlee." Doc said.

"From the beginning, then?" I asked.

From the beginning. Whenever you're ready."