[Author's Notes: this narrative is Harleen Quinzel (Harley Quinn) for the chapter. Not every chapter will be like this, but this chapter centre's on her so follows her description of events like in her own head. When a chapter is based on the character I will like to follow this narrative. Much like you're reading their journal. WARNING: there is a sequence of domestic violence at the end of the chapter.Please do not read that part if this is triggering for you.]

Chapter 2: Dr. Harleen Quinzel

"Masked vigilante sightings were reported on social media last night. The GCPD page has refused to comment on the matter, but witnesses say, the vigilante engaged with a crew outside the Iceberg Lounge…"

That's enough Wednesday radio. Traffic is getting bad. Let this guy merge. So many tents on the streets today and it's not even camping season. How did they lose their homes? What drove this city into such squalor? My shift is beginning in 10 minutes, I need to get into the left lane. A kind-of-not-really big day today. A freshly cleaned lab coat, blouse and pencil skirt. I'm wearing my favourite gold earrings. Lipstick on point. Hair conditioned and twirled into a clip. I look as best as I can. As professional as I can. I should be feeling amazing today.

Okay, here we are. Arkham. Get to staff parking then you can have that snack. No one better have taken my parking space again. Click-clack-click-clack-click. Why am I using my signal I'm in a parking lot? Okay, pull in. Don't hit the car. Shift gear. Park. Sigh.

I open the wrapper of my granola bar with a growing lump in my throat. It feels like a frog. Like the expression, exactly. The height of this institution really humbles a girl, you know? You like to say you're the best. Are you the best? Can this place truly be purged? It's a living thing, almost. A haunting thing. As if it should say 'Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here' outside the gates. This place is starting to eat at me, I think. Or maybe I'm eating at myself. I am.

I check my phone again for some reason. The home screen is blank. Just the picture of myself and Daniel. No text messages. No 'good morning, I love yous'. Did I do something wrong this morning? Did my breath smell bad, or did I forget to smile at him? I didn't give enough of myself as I should have. Maybe he feels rejected or not good enough, too? I feel like I'm failing with him. I try and try to be the woman he wants, but I can't be. The woman I am is needed here. With these loony toons. Trying to make the impossible possible. Every mind I cure, his heart breaks a little more. How do I deserve him? I don't dwell on it for long as time is running fast. I step out of my sedan and my heels greet the pavement. Then I'm looking up at the beast itself. Arkham has a harrowing glare that is nearly impossible to describe. The architecture carried over from centuries. A barbarian castle with untold horror stories from years past. It dares you to come hither. It wants you inside. The barred windows all carrying two vacant eyes that follow you till you're out of view. You know the only thing on their minds is how they would kill you.

Time for work.

Walking into Arkham for the first time in the day is always a bit surreal. I go through the metal detectors, give away my purse to the officer, get it back. Administration is the first area after the doors. Then walk a little more, there is the doctor's lounge. Put all my things away and doll myself up a little more in the mirror before I have to go to the meeting room. 7:55am. It's in five minutes. Time to share the news with the others. I should be excited.

I walk inside the meeting room and there are already a few familiar faces sitting to the table. Warden Javier Santos sits to the front like a daddy at a wedding party.

"Ms. Quinzel."

"Warden Santos."

I greet him with a closed smile. One of the members of the board, David Kauf, sits to his right. I feel I should take the left.

"Mr. Kauf! It's so nice to see you again!" Is my voice too chirpy?

"Likewise, doctor." He barely moved a muscle as I nearly fell over the table to shake his hand.

Soon more correctional officers came through the doorway as I took my seat. My posture is straight, my hands folded to the tabletop. I don't want to seem intimidating. So, I smile to all who come through. Officer Bolton comes in with a few other brawny guardsmen. If they smiled, they would surely crack. But Officer Ruby Morello doesn't shy from smiling. She beamed one back to me before she made it passed the doorway. Oh, her hair is looking extra cute today. I love the natural black curls she just lets fluff. An afro, I think? No. Maybe not. Ruby makes that correctional officer get-up look surprisingly sheek. I wonder if her nose piercing hurt. She sat down beside me and greeted.

"Heya, Harleen. How's tricks?"

She sat her bag down beside her chair as she pulled up to the table, still smiling at me.

"Tricky, as usual. How about you?"

"Oh, shit. Dumbass man with a plan at home. I told him we would get daycare if he wanted to keep working at the mill, but he insisted to be the mom while I go work. I mean, yeah, I'd love to stay home with my baby, but in times like this you can't survive on a labourer income."

"Well, you do make more than him."

"Oh, trust me. He won't let me forget it. At least Tyler has his dad at home. Better than him with a total stranger, I guess. But, girl, I wish he'd stop complaining. You know how men are."

Check my phone again. Did Daniel text me yet? No.

"How is Daniel?"

Oh, god. Please don't ask me that I'll start crying.

"He's good. Busy with work. So am I, most the time."

The doors closed behind my colleague, Dr. Jonathan Crane, and the Warden spoke aloud.

"Alright, everyone is here. Might as well begin. Thank you all for coming. We have some new developments with our psychologists today regarding clinical trials. As most of you know, Dr. Crane is in the middle of a trial and to his discretion, will be taking patients for sessions upon his request. I trust you all to assist Dr. Crane in transfers."

The guards nodded, hummed and hawed. Dr. Crane sat at the end of the table. Middle aged dude. Neatly quaffed brown hair but couldn't tend to his stubble. Rectangle glasses. A bit of a reptilian gait about him. His eyes were always so still like he was processing every move of the faces in front of him. Trying to find out who they were with gestures and expressions.

He smiled and said, "Thank you Warden."

"Also, Dr. Quinzel had her Gotham Talks last night and it was received well. She may have gone a different turn in the end. But I have to agree that she was very right. The strength of Arkham security is crumbling. The inmates are angry. Their isolation is creating a mob mentality, especially in HRS, our top priority. We need to begin showing them that we are here to help, rather than hurt. Dr. Quinzel has applied for the grant for her trial. Positive Beginnings Program. If it's approved, she will be choosing a few patients for the trial and will be given full immunity to care for them as she sees fit. Those who haven't should read her article on it'll give you an insight on how the inmates should be treated from here on out."

A scoffing chuckle from Officer Bolton. Here we go.

"These are the animals that murder and pillage Gotham for fun. That psychopath Nashton flooded the city five months ago, and now you want us to treat them like little kids? We ain't here to coddle, we here to correct."

"This isn't Blackgate, Lyle," that's right, hit him with the truth Warden, "This is Arkham Hospital. Here we are held to a higher standard of how we must treat these inmates. Insanity is never a choice."

Morello spoke beside me, "But murder is."

"It's not black and white," the Warden said back, "Not with mental illness. We forget to empathize; we forget our mission statement. We need to quell the rage of the residents before they act against us. The iron fist and our own greed for revenge has only fuelled a fire. It's time to draw it back. Keep control of Arkham. That'll be all for the day. You can all return to your duties."

Time to go to work. Grab my clipboard. Who to see first? John Doe. Hah. Jay. It's shameful to admit a patient could make my morning. He's really good at it. A bit of a flirt, but he means well, I think. I look through his file and find it hard to comprehend he actually committed these atrocities. He's usually so well-mannered and charismatic. Whatever is wrong with him he hides well. I can't believe he's actually here sometimes. It took me a while to get over looking at the face, but after meeting with him and knowing him, I hardly see it anymore. I can almost see what he used to look like before the accident. Now it's all I see. I think he sees that and appreciates it as we go through our sessions.

"Mr. Bolton! Can you bring John Doe to my office, please?"

He looked back at me with a snark. Like his time was better spent eating cheezies and sitting on his fucking ass in the locker room with his guard buddies watching the hockey game on his phone. He didn't say anything, just nodded, then continued down the ivory hall passed the wards. The chain of the handcuffs on his belt rattled as his boots tapped louder and louder to the elevator to get to HRS. High-Risk Security Wing. The hottest place in Arkham. Where all the action is. Jay lived there. As well as most of my patients. My docket is pretty good today. I meet with Jay for our hour session, then Edward, my newest patient. Still hasn't opened up to me yet. I feel like I'm getting somewhere with him, though. Then Lazlo and Victor. Then report. Then home. Hopefully Daniel texts me soon. I'll keep my phone in my pocket so if he does, I'll feel the buzz.

It's been nearly twenty minutes since I sent Bolton to retrieve Jay. What's going on? I'll reorganize the pens at my desk. Polish the picture of Daniel and me. Oh, I hear chain and boots. Maybe…

The door clicked open, and the sounds of chains rattled louder as a frame of white and orange stepped before Bolton. Jay stepped in with the shackles and neck brace. He looked up at me and made a crooked smile and a childish giggle. Bolton led Jay to the chair before my desk. I flipped open my notepad and smiled back.

"You're looking smart today, Jay. You can leave us. Thank you, Officer Bolton."

"I'll be outside the door. Press the button if you need me."

Bolton slammed the door on his way out and I was now left with my patient. Just the way I like. The brain probing may commence.

"Guy should go back to the mall."

Jay said as he smiled at the doors. Always a sense of humour.

"How are you today, Jay?" I asked him like a friend on coffee break.

He just chuckled again and tilted his head, "Better now. How are you, Miss. Quinzel?"

"Fair. Let's talk about you. Any ruminating thoughts you want to dive into today? Last week you were fixated on Arkham being something like a monster eating you and the others. Are you still troubled by that?"

"I'm not troubled by much."

"That's true. You have your own way of dealing with things, I can respect that. What about the positive thinking exercises I told you? Trying to imagine things as a safe place."

"I did, actually, yeah. Very useful."

"Really? Do tell."

"I used to love classical music. Not so much that rap and pop shit. It's always calmed me down. I try to envision the cries and screams of the others like an orchestra. I'm the conductor."

"The screams of the others in HRS, it gets to you after a while, huh?"

"No. I just said it's an orchestra. Don't get sleepy on me now, Harley."

Sigh. "Jay. It's…"

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Accomplished and published psychologist. Child prodigy. And unbelievably smoking hot, I might add. I love your name. Rework it a bit and you get…"

"Harlequin. Like the clown. I know, I've heard it before, Jay. You never let me forget it."

"What? It's a name that puts a smile on my face. I wish it could put one on yours."

Oh, gosh. He's sure sweet. "You do that enough, Jay," we are deviating, "You find anything in your time to make you smile? You know, besides me?"

"Meh. Not really. There's always something to smile about but lately… it's been difficult."

"Tell me about it."

"Are you asking me or agreeing with me? Is there anything you want to get off your chest, Ms. Quinzel? I'm an open book."

I caught myself glancing at the picture of Daniel and I, didn't let my eyes wander long, "We're here to talk about you, Jay."

"I know. It's boring. I wanna talk about you."

"Sorry, Jay. It's your turn in the limelight. I thought you liked talking about yourself."

"Oh! Right back at me, Quinzel. Foxy."

Usually, my sessions with Jay went like this. He loved to jump around like a bunny while I tried to catch him— catch his secrets. He kept them in a vault. He sure loved toying with me, though. Strangely enough, the banter with Jay was refreshing. My daily dose of chatter rather than offering talk therapy. I just hope it's as beneficial for him as it is for me, and that a fly on the wall doesn't report our discussions to the Board.

After our session, he was taken back to the HRS with Officer Bolton. It's always bitter watching him go back to that cell. I can't imagine how it feels. By this time it was already 11am. No time to squeeze in Edward before lunch, might as well finish some paperwork before I leave. Morello might want to come to the drive-thru with me. Edward will have to wait till lunch break is over. Then suddenly, the intercom blared.

"Dr. Quinzel to High-Risk Security. Dr. Quinzel to High-Risk Security."

Oh no… what is happening now? It's 11! Oh god, if there is an incident, I'm not going to be able to take my lunch. Okay. Keep it together, Harleen. Let's go see what's going on.

I promptly leave my office and make a fast pace to the elevators. To HRS. I make sure my keycard is on me. Button for third floor. Deep breaths in the solitude of the elevator. Whatever it is, can't be good if they are calling me. Elevator opens and I wave my keycard for access to the gloom of HRS wing. Steel doors all in a circle and in the middle the main control panel. I see Officer Morello, Dr. Young, and Officer Bolton by the door of Coralline Atkins' cell. Screaming. Irate screaming. What is that girl gone done now?

I come up trying to remain calm, "What's going on?"

"It's Atkins," Dr. Young, an experienced psychologist, said grimly, "She's got a shiv. She's threatening to cut."

"Where did she get a shiv?!"

"Hey Coralline. Just take it easy, girl. You don't have to do this." Morello was still up to the door window.

"You take one step in here I'll open a fucking vein! Don't come in! Fuck off!"

Morello had an exasperated look, she said to me, "She won't come with me for her session with Dr. Crane. She didn't want him so I paged you. Maybe you can talk her down?"

"Okay. Move out of the way, Ruby," I stepped up to the window and could see her standing to the corner of the end of the room. The light was dim, but I could see her holding something at her wrist, but not what.

Coralline Atkins. Youngest inmate in HRS wing. Twenty-six years and now here. A life to serve in this hellhole. Clearly the place had taken a toll on the poor thing. More than a young woman can handle.

"Hey Coralline. It's Dr. Quinzel, what's going on, friend? What can I do for you?"

"I'm not going! Fuck that… fucking… scarecrow fuck! You can't make me go. You try I'll cut. Just go away!"

The other inmates were beginning to gather along their doors. Some even egging the girl on. Victor Zsasz could be heard in his cell.

"Just do it, already! What are you waiting for?!"

Lazlo Valentin was beginning to sing opera in his room so loud it was overwhelming. Blur out the noise. Focus on the patient. I can't risk her cutting. Even if she's not holding a shiv, we can't be too careful. Need to take every precaution.

"Atkins, put it down now. We are coming in." Bolton would you shut up!

"No! We can't. We can't risk her cutting!"

"Harleen is right. If she cuts it'll be a can of worms." Finally. Thank you, Morello. A voice of reason.

Reason with her. Don't scare her. She's scared enough. "What can I do for you, baby? I just want to help. You don't have to hurt yourself."

"I just want to stay in my cell, Dr. Quinn! Please!"

"Dr. Crane can help you! He's a good doctor. Just put the shiv down and we can go together to see him, okay?"

"Fuck that! You'll put me in a fucking padded room!"

Suddenly I was pushed out of the way of the door. Looked to my side and there's Bolton. Fucking Bolton. One of these trigger-happy grease-heads we should have sent to the Middle East. He used his swipe card and Atkins door clicked open, then bam.

*slash* "RAAAAAAAAAAGGGH"

I jumped into the cell as I pushed through the metal doors.

"She's cutting! She's cutting!"

Inside the cell was thrown and ripped shreds of bed and blanket. The back of her toilet shattered, the walls travelling in scratch marks. My sights were fixed to Coralline. Such a dainty thing. Bare-footed. Her long black hair nearly covered her face, but I could see her fear. Her eyes bubbling in tears. Worst still, the blood pouring from her veins and onto the floor. She still held the shiv in her palm. I raised my hands in surrender and still tried to plea with her.

"Coralline, put down the object! Put it down!!"

Bolton went passed me like a large brute from a fantasy comic book. He didn't hesitate in manhandling her down to her bed. She definitely had her objections to that.

"Get off! Get off! Get off me! Get the fuck off me! Fuck you! Fuck you!"

Her feet cycled and lunged like an unruly wild animal. Flailing, kicking and screaming. Bolton uttered exasperated threats as he tried to restrain her. Howling and laughing could be heard from the cells out in HRS. Probably all enthralled for a bit of a show after days of untested boredom.

He picked her up effortlessly. She was like a rabid chihuahua in a dog catchers clasp. Snarling, slashing and roaring.

Morello came in with a pallor look, "Use these! For her wrists!"

She handed me hand towels that I tried to fold onto the lacerations, but her struggling proved it meaningless.

Bolton barked at me, "Just let me get her to Medical! She won't bleed out, now move!"

He carried her from her cell with Morello's help. Atkins howling drifted through the hall. Out of sight she was still heard. I tried to catch my breath. I was covered in blood that wasn't mine. My freshly cleaned lab coat and blouse ruined. My hair frizzed and dangling. I stepped from Coralline's cell, staggering my way to clean myself up. I looked to the other side of the hall. Jay was staring out the window to me. A hand against the glass. Edward's lenses following me as I huffed back from HRS. I left them behind. Behind in hell. A place where this kind of thing just happens and it's normal. In a way, I knew why they were staring at me. This grant couldn't come soon enough.

I made my way to the lounge and took off my lab coat. Found a generic scrub top (definitely not my colour) and left what was soiled in my cubby. Then I went to Medical, anxious regarding Atkins condition. When I got there, she was okay. Her wrists were bandaged. She was drugged definitely. Her eyes were vacant but wide— not even blinking. Just slightly nodding back and forth from the sedatives.

"How is she?"

I made it around the corner to see the Warden and Kauf staring at me like I dropped the ball.

"She will be fine," said the nurse, "Superficial cuts. Didn't strike vein. She should stay overnight for observation."

I couldn't help but stare at the welt on Coralline's cheek. Fresh and swollen. It was from brunt force trauma. A punch.

"How did she get that?"

Then Bolton spoke, of course it was him, "She bit my neck. Wouldn't let go so I reacted. She did stop after I did it, though."

"You punched her?!" What the absolute fuck is happening.

"Yeah. I punched her. You see how you do with some feral bitch biting into your neck, see how you react, huh?"

This isn't right, "I'll take the paperwork on this."

"No, Bolton can. He assessed the situation and handled it. He brought her to Medical. It needs to be him." The Warden explained, "The shiv in her room was made from a rat bone. Yeah. I don't know how she got it, but she filed it down razor sharp. Probably best she gets some shots, as well."

The nurse replied, "Oh. Certainly. I'll prepare them now."

The Warden then looked to me. I was certain I was going to be chastised for something out of my control. But he only let out a pent-up sigh and said, "It's good you were there. A death in Arkham is the last our PR team needs right now. Morello tells me you reacted calmly and provided comfort. Atkins is extremely behavioural. I'm certain it would have been a lot worse if you hadn't been there."

"It was worse, Warden. Your CO opened the cell after firmly being told not to."

"Leave Bolton's actions for me to address, Harleen. We are introducing a new approach and it'll take time for the officers to get on board. Can I speak to you privately?"

Yes. Yes, there is something I need to ask you. This never should have happened.

"Yes, sir."

Warden and I went close to the exit from Medical, everyone else still by Coralline's bed.

"I need to outrank Crane with this patient, Warden. Atkins is not benefiting from his sessions. This whole incident came about because she didn't want to go to his office. I think I can make headway with her if you let me…"

The Warden started, "We can talk about that later, Harleen. But I have some news from Kauf regarding your clinical trial."

My heart lifted to my throat. I tried to fight the tears, not able to control the flushing of my cheeks. It was denied. Of course, it was denied.

"You got it." His smile matched my own excitement. I didn't react right away. Maybe I was in denial.

"I got it? I got the grant?!"

The Warden grabbed my upper arms and breathed a light chuckle, "He just told me! Your Talk last night really impressed the Board. The funds for preparation will be in tomorrow morning. It's in your lap now, your baby, you can take it and raise it to whatever you want to be. Your compassion for the inmates is unheard of and maybe that's exactly what this institution needs."

My hands clapped to my mouth. The tears of disappointment were now tears of joy! This is actually happening! I couldn't help but leap and squeal. The Warden hushed me down.

"Shh! Just wait to celebrate, we will tell the staff together when the funds actually arrive. But I'm elated for you, Harleen. This trial will not only put you on the map, but it will mould your entire career. If it actually works, you'll be a legend. Arkham will be the pinnacle of mental health care if you pull this off."

I nearly forgot about Atkins. I forgot about the bull-headed Bolton. My only thoughts now were getting my baby up and running as much as I could before tomorrow arrived. Even if I had to use my own credit cards— heck— the Board will reimburse me! The potential of the Therapy Room is finally a reality. I was going to make it happen.

"We'll talk soon," said the Warden, "Congratulations!"

It was such a rejuvenating feeling. The feeling of hope. The misery of this place was finally turning around. I walked back to Coralline's bedside as Warden and Kauf made their exit. The nurse had just finished giving Atkins her shots. Then Bolton pulls out a pair of handcuffs. Before he could grab Coralline's flaccid hand, I snapped.

"You can't restrain her if she has cut wrists, Bolton. That's regulations 101."

He curved a brow, "She needs to be cuffed. You know her track record."

"She's right. Page 56 in the Orientation packet. You cannot restrain slashed wrists," Morello added sternly, "I can stay with her. I'll pull a double."

The nurse added, "I'll give her doses of Morphine through the night. She won't try anything."

Bolton audibly scoffed before leaving our company, grunting under his breath, "This place is turning into a fucking Sunday school."

Not even Bolton's scornful glower was enough to bring me down. I was ecstatic. Finally, the plan I had been putting together for months was going to be put to use. This work would become my life's work. My mission for mankind. To fix what could not be fixed. To heal what shouldn't be healed. To reap all of the benefits and rewards for doing so when I see the results. My name in university books for decades to come! I can't wait, I need to start now!

I cancelled my session with Edward and the other clients. I had no choice. Too much to do now— preparation. Got my laptop, my booklet, my gummy worms. It's time to really plan how this day will go tomorrow. Who will be the patients? I can only have four. So, who would meet the criteria? Needs to be high-risk patients but not ones who would tarnish the trial. Jay. Oh, he'd be perfect. The Board may not think so, but he's proven he's willing to change. I'll argue the fact. Maybe Edward, but I need him to open up first. His obsessions need to die down. Put the 'Riddler' mask in the closet, for good. Victor Zsasz possibly, his reform would be extraordinary. Lazlo Valentin will be interesting. And the matter of getting all these people together and see how they communicate will be the real trick. Gotham's most insidious all sitting together playing cards? Having book club? Are they capable of it? I guess my observation sessions will be the real ticker to see.

Hours of planning went by, I didn't even notice the lab coats walking passed my office window and to the doctor's lounge. It was five pm. I didn't see it. I was deep into something else. Soon six pm passed, then seven came. I was busy online shopping, but trust me, totally related to the trial. A foosball table, cards, board games, tables and chairs. Will need to wait to access who will be in the trial before I order anything else. I couldn't help myself. I knew I would vouch for Jay and got a few things for his little corner. Oh god; I can't wait to surprise them! Suddenly, I felt a buzz in my pocket. Daniel!

I scrambled for my phone and there it was! He texted me, finally!

[where are you?]

[ Babyyyyy! I got it! I got the grant for the trial! (: ]

[when will you be home?]

[probably not till after 9. I need to get my research down pat. You'll stay up for me?]

I left the phone on my desk as I continued to click-clack on my laptop. Smiling ear to ear. Walking on Sunshine from Katrina and the Waves playing on the speakers. Then the phone buzzed again… another buzz… another buzz. I lifted my phone.

Incoming Call: Daniel

Then I went cold. My lips parted but didn't let breath out. He's mad. He never calls me unless he's mad. Why is he mad? Why isn't he happy for me? I can't answer now, or I'll have to go home. I need to finish this tonight. We will talk about it when I get home. I'll buy him a burger and shake— peace offering. Let my hair down and go down on him as soon as he turns the corner. He won't have time to be mad. Only time for a burger and a blowie. Come on, any man should want that, right?

I turned off my phone because I knew he would keep calling. I couldn't deal with it. I felt guilt but I needed to do my work. A man who loves me should understand that. Just understand it!

Soon it was 8:15pm, I knew I had overstayed my time here. Daniel was mad. I had a big day tomorrow. My planning wasn't finished but the real world was calling me. I turned off the lights, left my laptop on the desk. I grabbed my things from the lounge, and I was on my way home. Another chapter of a day closed. Tomorrow was the chapter I was waiting for. A night of rest then a fantasy come reality. Officer John was doing the graveyard shift at the search before the doors.

"Have a good night, doctor."

"You too, John."

Skies were nearly pitch black. Inside Arkham all day, it's startling to walk outside to a dark evening lit by orange streetlights. Only felt like I saw day a few hours ago before walking in. It was twelve hours since I was out of Arkham. Tomorrow would likely be another. I got in my sedan, cranked the tunes, snacked on my gummy worms. Traffic was dead. No rush hour. No gripping the wheel howling obscenities at the Gotham drivers. Good news hanging over my head. It was the perfect ride home.

I stopped at Burger King, got that burger and shake for my man, applied lip gloss. That boy was in for a ride tonight. He was the one I really wanted to celebrate with. I couldn't wait to see him. Sure, he was mad, but once he sees me he won't be. He loves me.

I pulled up to my little condo. Daniel's pickup in the lot. I parked beside it and grabbed all my goodies before tapping my heels on pavement, eager to see him. Avoided eye contact with the dropheads by the trash bins on my way to the doors. Of course, they whistle and catcall. Too bad, dropheads, Daniel is the only one for this girl.

I clutter up the steps, rattle my keys. 104, my home. I come into my condo smelling the scents of home. Pumpkin spice candles, dryer sheets, and coffee. But there was a smell that stuck out between the familiar scents of home. Is that alcohol?

"Baby! I'm home! I brought you somethiiiing!"

No answer. Oh, Pfft. I'm the psychologist here, why is he playing mind games with me? I kick off my high heels and set my keys and take-out bag to the table. No Daniel yet. His truck is here, where is he?

"Baby?"

I hear footsteps come from our bedroom. Sluggish but moving quick. There he is! He's wearing that white v-neck I love so much. Baggy sweatpants. His blonde hair all scuffled. Poor baby, did I wake him from a nap? The smell of booze gets stronger as he comes closer. I smile at him, but he doesn't return one. Slowly I'm beginning to see how this night is going to play out.

"What the fuck, Harleen."

His voice was cold. His face unmoving but scowling.

Just be cute. Be the girl he loves, "What?"

"You get off at fucking five pm. You know how many times I called you?"

"Sweetie, I told you. I got the grant, I had to prepare. You know I was just at work. I'm home now."

"I don't give a shit about your grant, Harleen! You say you're gonna come home at a certain time, fucking do it!"

It's happening again. "You don't care about my grant? Danny, you know how hard I've been working for this and you're not even happy for me. I… I… I brought you a burger…"

Daniel laughed but his eyes still cold. He walked towards me, and I flinched. "Oh, well, thank you…" He snatched the bag with his burger and threw it in the garbage can. My lips shook. I didn't want to cry but I did.

"I didn't come home to fight with you."

"Then you should have fucking stayed at Arkham! I know you love it there! The psychos you choose over me mean more to you anyway!"

I stepped to Daniel, my hand out to comfort him, "Baby, that's…"

Then his hand swiped mine. Sudden sting of pain as his palm met the skin of my arm. Why is he hurting me? I looked down the hall and our bedroom door was open. Light was on so I could see a mound of mess. Clothes thrown. Bottles and paperwork in a mound. I stepped passed Daniel and the smell of booze was stronger now, much stronger. In our room my things were thrown every which way. Some of it torn to pieces. He did this. I now realize the smell of alcohol is beer— dousing over my belongings.

"What the fuck is this?!" My voice was breaking. My heart breaking. "Why did you do this?"

"Oh, fuck off. It's the least you really deserve."

Sadness became anger. This was happening again and kept happening. A fight for control. His fight that he's started time and time again. He wanted control of me. I turned back to him with tears in my eyes. Tears that he deserved to see. Can he see how much he was hurting me?

"You can't keep doing this to me, Daniel. This is… not okay. This is fucked up."

"I did this because of you. You keep making me do this, Harleen! You're fucking nuts! I love you so much, and you keep leaving me. You keep putting me aside unless you need me. I thought you wanted a life with me?"

The anger in my throat needed to come out. I stepped from the shambled room and to Daniel. "I was at work! I can't just leave my job to come and coddle you when you need it. You don't think I give enough of myself to you as I do? You get my money, my body, my love! All of it. I come home and I'm excited to see you! I wanted to spend my night with you! And you do this to me? Again? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Watch how you talk to me."

I can't stay here while he is like this. "I'm leaving, I can't."

I walked passed Daniel and felt a firm grip over my arm, pulling me back with force. Then my body getting thrown against the wall. He was holding me there. The smell of the booze on his breath so noxious I could barely take it in. I already couldn't breathe that well from hyperventilating. The tears fogged my sight. I didn't look at him, I wouldn't dare. This wasn't my Daniel.

"You're staying right here! You're gonna go clean up that mess because you are the one who made me do it! Don't… fucking… push me, Harleen! I've had enough of this mind game shit!"

Is he even conscious in his own actions right now? Can he see what he's doing? The person that abandoned him left his problems for me. I should be dealing with this at work with a respectful distance. Not at home. Not in my retreat. His fingers were digging into my shoulders.

"You're hurting me, Danny. Stop."

Daniel began to yell, a horrible yell. The yell resonating troubling memories. The memories of a dysfunctional home. "You haven't hurt me enough?! You're a selfish… fucking…bitch!"

He threw a punch passed my head and into the drywall. My hands clasped my face. My cries muffled in my palms. My knees were weak as my spirit cracked with our drywall. He finally released me. His breath heavy as he stood over me— awaiting some kind of reaction. I wouldn't dare feed his anger anymore.

His voice broke, "You did this, Harleen. You fucked up. That's right, cover your fucking face. You should be ashamed."

He stomped to the walkway; I heard the keys jangle. Then the door opening and he left me. I slid down the wall with my hands still hugging my face. I started to wail. The ache in my stomach gripped and pulled like a knot. In that moment, I knew how my patients felt. In my dining room it felt like four walls closing in. Nowhere to run. No sanctuary to escape. I was stuck in this cell. In this love. Why do I love this man when he treats me like this? How could I love myself if this is how people I love treat me? I am Dr. Harleen Quinzel. A professional woman. An accomplished psychologist. Why am I in this cell I've sealed myself in?