Something To Look Forward To
Ever since I told Harley about the Joker being alive a few days ago, she was acting like a completely different person. It was obvious that something had to have happened to make her mood change so drastically basically overnight. I really really hoped she didn't tell anyone that her change in attitude was thanks to me. That would be a whole lot of attention I didn't need right now. You just had to make friends with her didn't you? Well, on that front, I had at least succeeded. I had sat by her and Ivy in the cafeteria the other day, but noticed Eddie kept his distance. I figured there had to be some bad blood between him and the two girls or something. I was starting to learn how much certain villains really didn't like other villains. At this point though, I had basically adjusted to life in category 9 as well as any person could.
One thing that continued to bother me was these shots I kept getting everyday. I hadn't really brought it up again around Eddie and especially not anyone else. In all honesty, it was starting to worry me. If Strange had me on some special drug, I'd really prefer to know ahead of time so I could have a heads up before I legitimately lost my mind. I kept trying to question Kim about what was in the syringe, but she really did seem to have no idea. Every time I asked her about it, she repeated what she told me the first night, "I'm sure whatever it is will help you." Easy for her to say, she wasn't one of Strange's patients.
Speaking of Strange, therapy had been pretty uneventful after the first session. We were still talking a lot about my past and how hanging onto it was making my psychosis worse. Most of the time, as bad as this was, I really did feel like he was someone I should be able to trust. I mean, he seemed like he genuinely wanted to help me. Yeah, but that's his job and everyone knows he royally fucked that up once already. I just didn't know what to believe. I'd much rather be in a different asylum under a different doctor in a different state, but once you go to Arkham Asylum it's like a vortex-you can't get back out.
Strange seemed to have it in his mind that my insomnia shouldn't be something to worry about because he would prescribe me sleeping pills and my depression was basically my own fault since I got myself into the situations I did. I mean, I guess that was true, even though it was arguable that a lot of the stuff that happened to me was the product of my environment, not my own actions. What he really talked about was my other diagnosis. I was reluctant to talk about my possible dissociative identity disorder because I was worried about how bad it actually might be.
Before the night I robbed that convenience store and got thrown into Arkham City, I don't think I was crazy, and I still don't, looking back. When I was admitted into Arkham Asylum though, that's when things got bad. I didn't know what to think about the voice I sometimes heard in my head. It would happen at random times. I didn't really think anything of it at first since I thought I was probably just that stressed out and that's what was causing it, but lately it was getting worse. It started out as more of a whisper in the back of my mind, but now it was loud and interruptive. It was hard for me to go through my daily life now and not hear it screaming inside my head. It told me things like not to trust people. I didn't want Strange to know too much about it honestly. I mean, hearing voices wasn't exactly a good sign.
The previous day, Strange had me lie down on a couch and basically "revisit" the night my life went to hell. I'd heard about these techniques before, but I didn't realize psychiatrists still used them. He asked me what I was thinking about when I was on my way to rob that store. All I could recall of that night was Harper, Channing, and I going back to the condo and going to bed, then next thing I knew I was smacking some kid over the head with a baseball bat and being put into the back of a squad car. I wasn't sure if he believed me when I told him I couldn't remember how I had even gotten to the store because he just stayed quiet, taking more notes on his pad. All he told me was that these periods of blacking out were "troubling" and could be a sign of my progressive multiple personalities taking over. Thatalone told me I shouldn't let him know about the voice I was hearing.
So here I was, lying on my bed after another sleepless night. Strange never did give me those sleeping pills he said he'd prescribe me. That was odd too. Last night I really looked at myself in the mirror after my shower and thought about how utterly different I looked from six months ago. My dark, shoulder length hair was now creeping towards my waist and looked dull, my eyes had dark circles under them that I was beginning to think would never go away, and my skin had lost any and all color it had. Honestly, I just looked like someone had locked me in a closet and forgot about me for a few weeks. I didn't look like me anymore.
Lyle knocked me out of my thoughts by opening the door to my cell. "What're you waiting for? Get up!" Oh, it's going to be one of those days. Bolton was in a bad mood ninety percent of the time. In this case, I would imagine it had something to do with the GCPD snooping around Arkham again after Milton's murder. I had heard through the grapevine that they didn't let Gordon in to see the body, just told him it was a suicide or something. They wouldn't dare let it be known that the inmates were still as unmanageable as ever. When I found myself seated across from Strange again, as I was sadly getting used to, I noticed he was smiling. I wasn't used to seeing this guy smile. Like Bolton, it usually meant something bad. I braced myself against the chair.
"Hello, Violet. How're you this morning?" I felt myself uncoil a little; this wasn't out of the ordinary for him to ask. Although, I wasn't sure what I was expecting him to say.
"Fine. I didn't sleep last night." I figured I should mention the sleeping pills to him, "Wasn't I supposed to be prescribed sleeping pills for that when I got transferred to category 9?"
It was so subtle that I wasn't even sure it happened, but I swear when I mentioned this I saw his hand tighten on the pen he was holding. His smile remained on his face though. A carefully practiced show. "Of course, I don't know how that could have slipped my mind? I'll write up the prescription for you as soon as our session is over. My apologies." He started writing on a piece of paper on top of his desk. Maybe making a note? "Were you trying to clear your mind at all last night?"
"Yeah, I tried that. It didn't really work." I didn't want to tell him I'd been up all night reading a book I got out of the rec room. Eddie let me know we were allowed to do that, even in category 9. So, for the past few nights and on my breaks, I busied myself by reading romance novels. Not something I would have ever read on my own before my life became a disaster, but I found it provided a better escape in this place than some classic novels they had there.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps you should keep trying." Strange continued to write whatever he always did on his notepad. I always found this to be awkward, since there would be random silences where I would just have to sit there and look at him. "Before we start getting into things today, I wanted to let you know that this Saturday is a visiting day." My heart fluttered. Visiting hours must be on Saturdays when you're a category 9 patient. "When I spoke to your parents on the phone the night you were transferred, I mentioned it to them, so I just wanted to give you a heads up, should they come and visit." Should they come visit? I didn't like the way he made that sound.
I just nodded my head and said, "Oh. Okay." I was honestly a little pissed off, even though I knew I shouldn't be. I was a disappointment to my parents now. The crazy daughter who killed their other daughter. Well maybe they should look at themselves. They were the people who raised you. They knew you had something wrong with you and they just chose to ignore it. And now they ignore you. They didn't even come to the last visiting day. I didn't like listening to the voice in my head, it always seemed so negative, but in this case, I think it was right. It was like one part of me was telling the naïve part what was right and wrong.
Strange started asking his daily questions and getting into the session, but my mind was still on the revelation that visiting day was coming up. They wouldn't come and visit me. They wouldn't want to see me. Not now that I had killed yet another person. Why would they want to see me? If I was being honest with myself, did I even want to see them?
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The cafeteria was uneventful after the fight on my first day there. I wasn't worried about going to lunch, until I walked through the double steel doors and my eyes landed smack dab on Two-Face sitting at one of the tables on the left side of the cafeteria. Staring at me. Like he had been waiting for me to walk right through those doors. I watched as he turned his head and smiled at someone across the cafeteria. My eyes followed his line of sight and to my utter surprise I saw Roman sitting there. He wasn't supposed to get out when Two-Face did? If Roman saw what Two-Face was trying to do, he hid it well. His eyes were on mine instantly. I watched as he straightened up in his seat while I walked toward the line. Stay calm. If you were smart, you'd just avoid them both and sit by yourself. Too bad I'm not smart.
I gathered my tray, not even paying attention to what was for lunch today, and walked towards Roman's table. I made sure I kept my eyes on him the whole time, careful to not even glance in Two-Face's direction, lest I inadvertently start something again. For some dumb reason I began feeling nervous as I got closer to Roman. You mean Black Mask. Don't think you two are buddies just because Eddie seems to think otherwise. You barely know the guy.
"You're supposed to still be in solitary?" I ask, standing there, still holding my tray. I was still deciding whether I really wanted to sit with him or not. Or if he even wanted me to sit there. I didn't really want Two-Face to get pissed because he thought I was picking Roman, no, Black Mask, over him.
"Gee, it's nice to see you too." He replied lazily. He was staring pointedly at me. I didn't move. "Well," he nodded to a seat near him, "are you going to sit down or what?" Dammit Violet, don't sit down. I sat down on a chair two seats away from the one he was on. He rolled his eyes, sighed, and simply scooted his tray over towards mine before moving himself over as well. Why was he doing this?
"You didn't answer my question." I asked him, looking at my tray instead of his face…mask. I glanced to the other side of the room where Two-Face was glaring our way. When he caught me looking at him, his glare turned into a smile. Not a nice smile. I felt a hand wrap around my arm in a tight grip.
"Don't look at him." His voice startled me. It was low and fierce, just like it was the other day when he threatened Two-Face. His eyes were now boring holes into my own.
Suddenly, I got over any nervousness I had around him and yanked my arm out of his grip, "I'll look at whomever the hell I feel like." I wasn't going to be told what to do by someone who I barely even knew. Seriously, who does he think he is?
He put his arm on the table and just stared at me for a second. I actually thought he was going to hit me from the look on his face. I braced myself, but to my surprise he just let out a humorless bark of a laugh and shook his head. "You're killing me, Violet." He looked back at me. "You really have no clue about how to function in here do you?" He looked at his tray and poked at his food a little before muttering, "Figures."
That pissed me off a little, "Then please, by all means, explain to me the inner workings of Arkham Asylum, if you know so much about this place." He had the gall to laugh at me again.
"You're letting your age show." He became serious, "Edward told me you've been hanging around Quinn and Ivy. What's the deal with that?" I didn't know why that would matter.
"I like them. They seem like decent enough people." Well, Ivy did. The jury was still out on Harley. She seemed too mercurial to be someone I could ever really trust. "Decent enough anyway."
He looked incredulous. It's odd how well I could read his emotions since he was wearing a black, wooden mask. He had expressive eyes I guess. Stop thinking like that. "Ivy likes you because you're female. If you weren't, you'd be public enemy number one. And Quinn. She's just as crazy as the Joker. Maybe not as dangerous, but just as crazy. You shouldn't associate with either of them."
"Some people would tell me the same about you." It slipped out before I meant for it to. I noticed his face go blank behind his mask.
"You know what? If you want me to leave you alone and act like I don't know you, please, speak now. Because I will gladly walk away from the shit storm coming your way."
"What is that supposed to mean?" What shit storm? What was he talking about? He looked smug. Asshole. "You know what, on second thought, maybe I'll just go sit with Two-Face. I'm sure he'd appreciate my company." I made to stand up and move away from the table, but his hand shot out and grabbed my arm in a bruising grip.
"Sit down." There's the growling voice again. He sighed and ran a hand over his face…mask. Whatever. I sat there waiting for him to speak again. "First of all, you need to get over yourself right now. You're bottom of the food chain here and contrary to what you may think, I'm trying to help you." He didn't break eye contact when he said this. I knew I shouldn't believe him, but it was hard not to. He's in an asylum for a reason. He's crazy. Don't trust him.
I looked at him. "Why?" Why did he want to help me? That's a girl. He had no reason to now and it seemed out of character for him. Although, so did that kiss. Bad Violet. "Why are you trying to help me?"
Judging from the silent stare he was giving me, I caught him off guard with this question. He looked away quickly, "I don't know." I could tell he meant this and to be completely honest I was a little disappointed. Had I expected him to profess his love for me? No. Had I expected him to say it was because he liked me at least a little? Yes. Don't expect things from psychopaths. Obviously.
"Well that's not really an answer." I looked at my tray. I was trying to reason with myself over why I should be able to trust him. There wasn't much evidence in favor of this other than I didn't die when I "trusted" him in Arkham City. That would have to do for now until I mustered up the courage to really talk to him. I had a lot of questions I wanted answered. "Will you at least tell me what you meant when you said there was a shit storm coming my way?" I'd like to know if there was some planned attack against my life or something else that I didn't know about.
He seemed apprehensive now, but he answered, "Well, shit storm might have been an exaggeration." I gave him a look. "Or not. I'm not sure yet." He looked around us, eyeing up each guard in the room. "Look, I can't really talk to you about it in here." I was about to protest, ready to tell him he was full of shit when he elaborated, "Just go to the rec room today and I'll explain everything there. Until then, we're done talking about this." And just like that we sat there, basically in silence, finishing our food. Against my better judgment, I felt safe next to him. I didn't think he'd let anything happen to me; he didn't really have a reason to. Well Violet, he doesn't have a reason not to either.
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I spent my hour break thinking about what Roman was possibly going to tell me. It was driving me nuts that I had next to no clue what this could be about. Being naturally curious, I had to know. So, when Jerry came and got me, I naturally hustled it to the rec room today. I could tell Jerry thought something was up based on my behavior alone. Calm yourself, child.
"Uh, see you in an hour okay?" I thought I heard Jerry say as I all but fell through the doors to the rec room. It was a nice day again so Ivy and Harley were, I assumed, outside, meaning the rec room was more quiet than usual. I walked in, looking around for Roma-Black Mask...oh, screw it. Roman. I didn't see him though. I was about to take a seat and wait for him when I heard someone call my name from over near the bookcases. I could make out Roman's outline in the dark section of the bookcases where I had talked to Harley the other day. I walked over into the row and was swiftly pulled into the very back of the rows so we were up against the wall.
"Hello." I said, trying to downplay the fact I had been frantically looking around for him not even a minute ago. I hope he hadn't seen that. "Mind telling me why we're standing in the dark?" I raised an eyebrow, which was useless since I could barely see his face. Well, mask. It was especially bad in the dark though, since he kind of blended in.
"Because no one is going to overhear us back here." He was speaking in a hushed voice, even though I figured no one was listening anyway. No one important was in the rec room today. There were usually two guards sitting somewhere in the room to make sure nothing fishy went on, but I had learned they didn't really pay that much attention to the inmates. I saw one taking a nap the other day. Roman took me by surprise when he grabbed both of my shoulders and held me at arms length, looking at me closely. "Are you okay?"
That was kind of a dumb question. "I'm in an insane asylum. Yeah, I'm just spiffy." I surely couldn't look that bad these days. I mean, how could he even see me back here?
"No. I wasn't talking about that." Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darker lighting, I could see his eyes a little better. They were looking right into mine, "Edward told me Strange has been giving you some sort of shot instead of medication?" I felt the familiar twinge of worry rear its ugly head in me again. I wish other people would stop talking about this; I was worried enough as it was.
"Yeah and before you ask, I don't know what it is and I don't know why he's giving it to me." I hope this wasn't what he meant by a shit storm coming my way. "Unless you know something I don't?"
He shook his head, "No. I don't know what it is, but whatever it is it can't be good. I don't know of any other patients getting shots, Violet." He then moved a hand to my forehead and felt for…a fever? I wasn't sure. "Do you feel different lately? Like you're sick or anything?" Why was he asking? Because you look terrible, probably.
I thought about it. I really didn't. Nope, just your normal crazy self. "I mean, I haven't been sleeping, but that's nothing new." I was wondering what this meant when a scary thought popped into my head, "Do you think he's poisoning me?" My voice unintentionally cracked. I swallowed once, trying not to show how scared I suddenly was.
Roman didn't answer, making me feel even worse. I was starting to feel sick now. "I don't know." That's reassuring. He could just be lying. "A few years ago, before Arkham City was built, there was a doctor here experimenting on patients. But, I don't think Strange would be that bold. He doesn't have a reason to target you, you're not special." That hurt more than it should have, even if he didn't mean it the way I thought he did. He thinks you aren't special. If only he knew how crazy you actually are. "Listen, I want you to tell me if you ever feel off about anything. Alright?"
I wasn't going to just acquiesce to that. "Why?" I looked at him pointedly. "Why should I tell you anything? I don't even know you?" His hands dropped from my shoulders when I said this. My heart began fluttering with nervousness over the inevitable confrontation we were about to have.
He sighed and shook his head, "I'm not explaining anything to you."
He started to turn away like he was going to leave the isle, but I reached out and grabbed his arm. It was sturdy and lean with muscle hidden just beneath the surface. "Roman." His head snapped around and I was suddenly aware of how badly he could hurt me if he wanted to.
"What did I tell you about calling me that?" He got in my face, speaking in his growling voice again. "I told you-"
I cut him off, "Look, I really don't give a fuck what your name is. Okay?" I could tell he was going to protest, but I was having none of it, "I don't know you. Why should I just trust everything you tell me?" I laughed, albeit a little hysterically, "I mean, I don't even know why you decided to help me that night in Arkham City?" I stared at him seriously now, "And I really don't know why you kissed me that night."
He got closer now, backing me up against the cold brick wall, and trapping me there, placing his hands on either side of my head and bending down to get in my face, "How about this, I didn't help you that night in the City. I left you outside Riddler's hideout because I wanted you to just disappear. I was honestly glad, relieved even, when I came out of his hideout and saw you weren't there. The entire night I didn't care about what happened to you. You were nothing but a piece of meat to me. That kiss? It was impulsive. I hadn't been with a bitch in a while, and you were all too easy to manipulate. It meant nothing." He was breathing heavily and had a manic gleam in his eyes.
But you know what, I didn't believe him. He may have convinced himself he didn't care, but I wasn't taking that as an answer, "You know, Roman, you say you didn't care about what happened to me that night, but someone who didn't care wouldn't have been concerned enough to take me out of the steel mill when I'd been shot to make sure my wounds were clean. Someone who didn't care wouldn't have taken me to the gates of that prison and made sure I made it out of there. The way you watch me isn't the way someone who doesn't care would look at someone." He was stock still, "And someone who didn't care wouldn't have kissed me. Period." Walk away now, Violet. Shut up and walk away. No. I needed to say this. "So you can tell me how much you didn't and don't care about me even if your actions say otherwise." I paused, swallowing, "I don't know why you would care about me, I really don't. And I don't think you know why either." Neither of us were moving, "So, until you do, I don't want or need your help."
I thought for sure he would say something in response to my rant, but he didn't. He just dropped his hands and moved to the side. I took this to mean he wanted me to leave. I wanted to look back at him, but I didn't. He had a lot to figure out, and I couldn't help him with that. I didn't know if he was in denial or just straight up lying to himself. But until he admitted why he felt the need to help me, and meant it, I wasn't going to trust him. I may not know him, but he didn't know me either. I was a lot more capable of taking care of myself than he could possibly imagine.
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