Gotham's Discontent
Chapter Seven: Content with Discontent
Group Therapy.
While the community meals and "leisure" activities were taken place within the communal cafeteria where she would be able to accompany Sionis, Odd Dobbs, Greenwood, Jerome, and Aaron, Group Therapy took place within a smaller room made up of six uncomfortable steel chairs in a circle (the other option was to sit on a similarly uncomfortable, concrete floor with no mat), and her only saving grace was, actually, Robert Greenwood. It would have made Group less painful if Deedee had been blessed with Sionis's quipped sarcasm or Jerome's comedic effect in therapy (although the doctors didn't like his distractive behavior, Deedee appreciated the break from the over-serious tension in the room). Greenwood might have been a joy in class if the doctor had been a buxom beauty with a tight blonde bun and rectangular glasses; however, the doctor was an older man in his fifties who more placated the lot of them rather than actually treated them.
In the last year, Dr. Boring—Sorry, Dr. Boren—had only ever introduced the idea that the reason why his patients could never leave the sanitarium—sorry, asylum—was because they persistently blamed everyone else for their troubles and if they could admit that what they did was wrong in their hearts, then they could progress and eventually gain the ever-wanting certificate of sanity. A permanent release from Arkham Asylum, unless they committed a heinous crime within the year of release…
Dr. Boren was a man whom didn't believe in good and evil, but the metaphorical wolf one feeds—the conscience or the impulse.
Aaron had the mind of a child—he acted on impulse because that is what children did. Truly, the man-child probably didn't think he actually did anything wrong when he killed his family; he never talked about them nor showed any real remorse. Deedee sometimes wondered if he actually knew why he was in the asylum to begin with; but Aaron would likely never see freedom.
Greenwood, well, he was a man whom had a long list of grey morals that would take years to review; the man literally fed impulse. Cannibalism is and was an act of dominance. Probably not evil at all, but nobody would want a cannibal sitting at their dinner table. As far as a conscience goes, Greenwood wore his eaten baker's dozen like a badge of honor, didn't blame any of his prison time on anybody. Hell, he'd have gone on a riot if someone tried to take credit for his murders. Greenwood would never see freedom.
Deedee's brow raised at the idea of Sionis ever seeing the outside of the four walls—the man didn't act on impulse. However, Richard Sionis had killed more than twenty-five people, and it was out of sheer amusement than actual impulse. His conscience was probably non-existent. Deedee was about 90% sure that if Sionis ever saw daylight again, he'd probably buy out his company that had been leased to his second-in-command and start up his office games at the first chance he could. Though he'd probably never see freedom either.
Odd Dobbs…Strangely acute and intelligent, although peculiar in his own demand—He had never expressed remorse and in passing conversation, he'd give small insights to his own crimes that were strangely valuable. He had no remorse for his heinous crimes—homicides and rapes alike—only owing to the fact that he knew the line of consent. He crossed that line several times knowingly. He just didn't care that he did. Odd Dobbs, child-like sometimes and peculiar intellect, would never see freedom due to his own knowledge of his pathology.
Jerome Valeska. Ah, Jerome…Deedee smiled to herself. A clear psychopath who only had feelings for Deedee, whom sought out to kill their own mother because of her incessant nagging and he described the feeling as freedom. In Arkham, he felt as free within the walls as he would outside his cell. He had no remorse, and although his temper would flare, he still held a great restraint toward impulse. He fed both wolves accordingly, conscience toward Deedee, and impulse if he thought it would be funny. Likely, he'd never see anything more than the backyard of Arkham.
Deedee Valeska…
"Deedee." Dr. Boren said calmly in his elderly voice, gazing at her from over the line of thick-rimmed, oval bifocals. "Deedee, are you still with us?"
Greenwood nudged Deedee subtly in her ribs, clearing his throat. Deedee glanced at him obtrusively, but faced Dr. Boring with wide eyes. "What?"
"How are you feeling this morning, Deedee?" asked Dr. Boren curiously.
"I'm bored." Deedee said, gesturing to him. "We do this every day. We talk about the same things, every day."
"This is to help you," said Dr. Boren.
"Half of the people you 'treat'," Deedee sarcastically mimed air quotes, "are either too far gone or they don't care. The cops put people like us in here because they don't think we'll ever 'recover'. If there's actually anything to recover from." Deedee pulled her long red hair off to one shoulder and crossed her legs.
Dr. Boren, a man who spoke with monotony but was admired by his fellow medical professionals for his tremendous patience, slowly took off his bifocals with a shaking, elderly hand and placed them in his lap. He gave Deedee his most empathetic gaze.
"Do you think that you're untreatable?"
"I don't need to be treated. I'm free." Deedee said with conviction. "Aside from being in a very small room, I am content…with being discontent. I've been for the better part of my life until Mother died."
"Your brother is responsible for your mother's death." He said it in such a way that made it seem as if he thought that Deedee was sad about their mother's passing. "If you showed remorse, you could be free from Arkham Asylum. You showed the utmost praise for your brother's crimes, and you murdered an officer here inside the hospital, causing disruption in the East Wing. Show contrition, and I can help you—"
Deedee held a hand up with a small laugh, "Listen, I know that you must have your heart in the right place, but you're beating a dead horse, Doc. I don't feel sad about Lila. I'm glad she's dead—As I keep telling you every day in Group. And Jerome didn't take anything from me when he killed her. We had planned it. If you had grown up the way I had to, you'd have done it too, Doc."
"You're blaming your mother for what you've done, Deedee; that is not how we recover—"
Deedee felt her face burn. "I don't feel bad for Lila's death. I don't feel bad for Lawrence Greenburg's death. And the way I feel now, with you talking about how I shouldn't blame Lila for every—single—bad—thing that has happened to me, I wouldn't feel bad if I shoved your glasses down your throat."
Greenwood nodded with a small smirk. He indicated toward the good Dr. Boren that she'd make good on her word with a wave of his hand.
Dr. Boren sighed. He turned to her full-bodily, now taking a one-on-one approach. Deedee's lips pursed and she felt the grit of her teeth as her jaw clenched. Dr. Boren had a way of getting under a patient's skin, but it wasn't ever how he had intended. He thought he was really doing something, trying to make a difference in his empathetic psychological approach; but all it ever did was rile his patients. It always felt more like gaslighting than therapy.
"Deedee, in order to move forward, you must understand that Lila is a thing of the past; you can move on. Put it behind you. If you can see that the problems you've endured and the people you've had to face were in your control the whole time…"
"I didn't put me here." Deedee snapped. "Your precious government did."
"You were your brother's accomplice."
Deedee scoffed. "The system is rigged. Unless you want to explain to me how two underage teenagers were placed in an asylum when they should have gone to a hospital for juveniles because we were both victims of domestic violence—"
"The system is put in place to protect innocent underage youths, not murderers." Dr. Boren said.
Greenwood stared at him incredulously. Deedee shook her head. She'd kill him where he sat if she didn't leave.
"Fuck this…" Deedee breathed, and she rose to her feet—when she did, she grabbed the head of the steel chair and shoved it, where the barred frame landed at Dr. Boren's feet with a loud crash. Deedee threw her hands up.
"If you walk out of just one group therapy session, you will not see daylight!" Dr. Boren warned her as Deedee headed for the open door.
"Then darkness is my ally!" Deedee called back without turning her head, waving goodbye to a certificate of sanity.