No Place in My Heart for a Criminal Like You

“So, I think we should start this session by getting acquainted. I’m your doctor, Dr Quinzel and I’ll be holding these sessions twice a week with you.” The man in front of me did nothing but continue staring at me with a lick of his painted red lips and one of his purple covered legs fidgeting rapidly. “I want you to know that I don’t want you to be intimidated by me in any way and I’d like for you to answer any of my questions without hesitation.” He laugh snorted as he rolled his eyes and turned his head away from me to look out of the window a few meters to the right of him. To be honest, I didn’t understand what he found funny.

“Now that you know who I am, could you please state your name?” As I asked this he looked at me as if I was the one who was crazy. I shot a confused look back.

He cleared his throat as he adjusted his body in his chair then licked his lips before asking, “Uh, you don’t watch a lot of news do you?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t you know who I am?”

I obviously knew he was. He’s the one and only. How can anyone not know who he was? It’s the Clown Prince of Crime himself, The Joker. New to Arkham Asylum, even though he had been in multiple times before. “No, no, no, no, no. Let me clarify my question. What is your real name?”

“…What does it matter?”

“I was just asking a question. It’s my job. Now, please tell me your name.”

He ignored me and turned his head to the side again. I sighed, feeling as if this session wasn’t going to go anywhere fast. I clicked my pen hastily, agitated. “Fine,” I sighed. “We’ll skip that question for now. Next question. The scars. How did -”

“Do you ever get bored of doing this?” The Joker interrupted me.

“I’m the one asking the questions. I’m only trying to help.”

He ignored me. “Do you like prying into people’s lives? Does it make you feel better about yourself?” He stood up from his chair; his hands handcuffed and began to walk closer to my desk. He leaned on my desk, with his hand holding the desk for support as he looked at me right in the eyes. “But then again, a pretty little perfect girl like you has probably got uh, a perfect boyfriend, with the perfect friends, living in a perfect house in a perfect town. A perfect life, for a perfect girl.” I tore my eyes away from his and looked down at my hands on my lap, thinking about how wrong he was. I was the complete opposite. I hated my life because I was so alone. He immediately knew what I was thinking by looking at my body language. He continued, “What? No? Maybe you do this for a living just to distract yourself from your own life, by finding people who, uh, have a more depressing life than you. Does it depress you to know how alone you really are?” I looked up at him and he was smiling from ear to ear. “Do me a favor and know yourself before you try to know another.” I could tell he was trying to intimidate me. I was trying not to crack.

“You don’t scare me, clown,” I lied. I was actually terrified. He already knew so much about me and I am the one who’s supposed to be the psychiatrist. This clown was one clever man. I instantly regretted saying it, when his smiling face changed from a smug grin to a sadistic one.

He began to walk around the desk so he could get closer to me. Edgy, I jumped up immediately. “Oh, but I do,” he stated as he grabbed my face with both hands since they were still cuffed. “I really, really do,” He clarified as he shook my head. We stood staring at each other for a long while. He did it to intimidate me, while I had no choice because I was completely paralyzed with fear. He broke the silence. “You still wanna know how I got these scars?” Since I was paralyzed I couldn’t scream for help or shake my head to disapprove. Instead, he grabbed my face tighter and nodded for me. “Well, my father was a drunk. And a fiend. And one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the knife to defend herself. He doesn’t like that,” he said as he shook his head, then glared at me in the eyes. “Not. One. Bit. So, me watching. He takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. Then turns to me and says ‘Why So Serious?” He quickly licked his lips and continued after a short pause. “He comes at me with the knife. Why So Serious?. He sticks the blade in my mouth. ’Let’s put a smile on that face’.” There was a long pause afterwards, until I broke it.

“Did he do both of those scars?” I don’t know what made me ask it, but I did it without thinking.

He smiled and said, “That can wait till next time.” He winked and clicked his mouth. He let his hands drop from my face and slowly walked back to his seat, watching me while he did it. I looked at my watch and decided that it was an appropriate time to end the session.

“Okay…I think that’s enough for one day,” I smiled at him, but inside was still screaming for my life. I opened the door and called for nurses to take him back to his cell. They strapped him into his straitjacket as he smiled at me.

“Farewell…Dr Quinzel.” He said, eerily extending my last name. He gave me one final stare before being lead back to his cell, leaving me feeling alone and lost.

I never told anyone about what happened in that session and how he made me feel. Even though I felt petrified and terrified of seeing him again in the next session, something inside of me wanted it to happen. Something about him intrigued me. It could be that he knew a lot about me without knowing me at all. Or it could be just that I was fascinated with his story. Maybe I wanted to know more about him. Only time could tell.