© Ellie Goodson 2016

Chapter Eleven-I'm not a Doctor I'm a Psychiatrist

~Arabella Jones~

I had only been awake for a matter of seconds before someone pounded on the door. The volume of the noises that came from outside the room sent my heart into a violent race, and it woke me up enough to think straight. Running my fingers through my hair, I bolted to the door and threw it open. On the other side was one of the Joker's goons, a bulky man wearing a small mask that pinched at his face. He made a motion with his finger for me to follow him, and so-hesitantly-I did.

The goon took me down many halls and corridors that I hadn't had the chance to experience yet. I followed behind silently, my shoes not making a sound on the solid floor. I kept on running my fingers through my hair and wiping under my eyes, sure that wherever I was about to go, it'd be public and I didn't want to look like a mess. Where was he taking me anyway? The Joker had told me that I wasn't to leave his room until someone came to get me, and this clown man had come for me.

The goon stopped in front of a door, solid oak and dark like all others except the Joker's, before knocking three times in an unusual pattern. He waited exactly five seconds before entering. But, before he entered he grabbed my wrist and pulled me in with him. "Hey! Get off of me you imbecile!" I yanked my wrist out of his grip and glared daggers into the goon.

"Imbecile?" Someone asked, but I was too busy glaring to pay attention to the voice.

"Yes, do you need a definition?" I turned my head to the voice, and stopped cold when I realised who had spoken.

The Joker shook his head, and amused expression on his face. I crossed my arms over my chest, glancing at the goons around me, wearing their unnerving clown masks. "Why am I here?" Multiple groans and moans surrounded the room, making it clear that the men were in pain. The only one who resembled happiness was the Joker himself.

"You're a Doctor right?" I rolled my eyes and sighed. Did I really have to explain this?

"You know, just because someone has 'Doctor' in their name it doesn't mean that they're a Doctor. I'm not a Doctor, I'm a Psychiatrist. However, I know basic medical needs." I stopped my minor rant, curious as to why the Joker had asked.

Turned out that I didn't need to ask, for I saw the Joker taking off his purple jacket. Underneath the purple jacket, on his right arm, was a deep slash with blood pouring out of it and a couple shards of glass caught the light. The blood drained from my face as I processed the grizzly sight. "I need a medical kit, make sure it has a needle and thread, not ordinary needle and thread either. I trust you have common sense." I said to no one in particular, hoping one of them listened to me.

It caught my attention then that many-if not all-of the other goons around me had injuries of their own, but I had already made my way to the Joker. "I...Um I need you to take off your shirt, carefully."

"But Doc, it's a little soon don't you think?" I rolled my eyes at the clown, gesturing for him to hurry up. One of the goons came back with a medical kit while the Joker was removing his shirt. I checked it and then thanked the goon for getting me one with all the equipment I needed.

Turning back to the clown, I sat down by his side and began to wet a white cloth with antiseptic. "This is going to sting like a bitch." I warned him, the cloth hovering above the injury.

"Thanks for softening the warning Doc." He replied sarcastically. Seeing no need for a retort, I simply pressed the cloth over the wound, sickeningly aware of how much it would hurt. The Joker yelled out loud and shot me a pissed off look.

"Oh do be quiet, I need to concentrate." I removed the cloth and began to gently dab over the bloody area, careful of the glass.

Placing the bloodied cloth down on the table in front of me, I picked up a pair of tweezers and a small metal tin. Resting the metallic cylinder on my lap, I began to inspect the open wound that was still leaking blood. Careful not to cause him a lot of pain-I'd done enough of that already-I started picking out shard of glass after shard of glass. There were quite a few pieces in the tin by the time that I was finished, and some of them are gorily large.

I started to gently pat over the wound with the antiseptic cloth once more, hoping that it wouldn't sting as much for the Joker. While doing this, I glanced up and the man to see him staring right back down at me. "Not much longer, just some stitches now. I'd recommend taking pain killers afterward but that doesn't seem like something you'd do." My mouth twitched up at one side as I spoke the words, knowing that I was speaking the truth.

The Joker remained silent as I threaded the needle and gently pricked his skin with it. I didn't wait, knowing it would be better and quicker if I just started. I sewed up the wound as best as I could, reminding him of the fact that I was no Doctor. When I finally cut the thread I sighed in relief and picked up a bandage. "I take it you don't feel like explaining to me how this happened?" I inquired the clown while wrapping his arm carefully in protective bandages.

"Not really, no." He replied, taking a deep breath. I finished wrapping his arm and placed the bandage in a position so that it wouldn't fall away.

The Joker got up and examined his arm carefully. "Thanks, Doll. Now you can start working on my men." With that, he left the room-leaving me with a dozen goons in clown masks. I gestured for one of them to take a seat and began my heavy duty of fixing up the Joker's men. I wondered what had actually happened to cause so much destruction, but it would probably be on the news tomorrow. There was all manner of injuries, bullet wounds, slashes from knifes and grazes by a bullet that just missed but none of them were like the Joker's, leading me to believe that something else had happened differently for him.

It occurred to me then that I was fixing up all if the Joker's men so that he could go out and cause more destruction and commit more crime once more. It also came to my mind the probability that perhaps he had been fighting Batman, which was amusing to imagine indeed. When the last goon had been stitched up and repaired, he told me that it was his duty to take me back to the Joker's room. I looked down at my hands and saw that they were covered in blood along with many other parts of my clothing. "I want some form of cleansing liquids, shampoo and body wash. You know what I mean. I checked the bathroom earlier to see that there was none and I'm not going to remain like this."

The goon simply nodded his head, leaving the room to guide me back to mine...the Joker's. I felt exhausted and slightly nauseous after seeing all of the blood and open wounds, and I again began to wonder what could have possibly caused such chaos. Shaking the thought off and telling myself that the past was in the past, I concentrated on following the goon. "Wait in here; I'll be back in a minute." It was the first time any of the goons had spoken to me, and it was odd to hear his voice sound so muffled through the mask.

I waited like instructed, and sure enough the goon returned in a matter of moments with two bottles. I thanked him and watched as he left before closing the door and running to the bathroom. The idea of a shower was blissful; the blood was beginning to dry on my fingers causing them to become sticky and tense. I started running the water, ensuring that it was hot, before stripping off the bloody clothes and stepping in.

Hot water, bubbles and shampoo suds ran over my body, it felt so good it caused shivers to run down my spine. I felt so much cleaner and happier as I turned off the shower water and started to dry my body. I needed that, even if it felt slightly odd showering in the Joker's shower, I needed to bring back some sanity in my life. I wrapped the purple towel around my body before stepping out of the steaming bathroom.

I had this bad habit of talking to myself, like the Joker's bad habit of licking his lips. I couldn't help it and I would sometimes forget where I was and start speaking to myself in public. It helped me focus, to process information. Scientists said that it was actually a good thing, and apparently old Albert Einstein did it himself. As I dumped my old and dirty clothes onto the floor by the bed, it struck my then what trouble I had just gotten myself into. "Shit." I cursed under my breath, realising I had no clothes to wear. "What a smart idea you dumbass, take a shower and then leave yourself with no god damn clothes to wear, why not?"

"It's not very nice to swear." Someone called from the door way, causing me to gasp and spin around. Standing by the door, which was now open, was the clown himself.

His eyes trailed up and down my body, making me extraordinarily self-conscious about how small the towel was and how little it covered. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" It was supposed to sound demanding and angry, but my voice came out quiet and wavered a little. My heart began to pound as the Joker started walking closer to me, further into the room. He nodded his head over to the wardrobe which I hadn't paid enough attention to earlier to notice.

"Go and check it." Sending the Joker a suspicious look, I hesitantly opened the doors of the red wardrobe.

Inside were clothes that looked all too familiar. Keeping a hand clutched at my towel, I reached up and pulled at the clothes with a confused expression. "But...these are my clothes!" I turned to face the Joker, who was smirking at me. He shrugged his shoulders and clasped his hands together. I shook my head, laughing lightly at his slyness. "How's your arm?" I asked while reaching up to pick out a top and a pair of trousers.

"Excuse me?" I turned my head to face the Joker once more, what was so hard to understand about that?

"Your arm, how is it?" I asked again, dumping the clothes and a few other things on the bed.

"It's fine." He replied simply, looking over at where the gory wound was.

I shrugged my shoulders at his confusion; did no one ever ask him if he was okay? The Joker obviously took my waiting in silence as his cue to leave, and so he simply left and closed the door behind him. Shaking his unusualness off, I turned to the clothes on the bed and started getting dressed. It was about time that I started feeling more like myself again. I felt saner after a couple hours of sleep and a shower, but I knew that there was more to come. Much more.