In the Mind of Madness

Kenna sat on her couch in a ratty tank top and tracksuit pants, eating ice cream out of the carton and spacing out as she watched American Idol. She should have been going over The Joker’s paperwork, but he had made her too mad earlier that day to want to think anymore about the psychotic clown.

After forcing herself to go and see him on Wednesday (not able to deal with him at all on Tuesday) Kenna had sat for two fruitless hours while The Joker kept feeding her false stories. He wouldn’t even tell her the condition on which he would give her the truth. Kenna had stormed from the room after listening to some other cock and bull tale about The Joker’s time working for Doctors Without Borders in Cambodia.

“Freaking liar. Doesn‘t even try to be convincing anymore.” Kenna mumbled, shoving more rocky road into her mouth. Then she grumbled to herself, knowing it sounded crazy, but needing the comfort of a human voice. “Tells me I’m a bad shrink…reverse psychology…dumb clown…eight years of college…how dare he…”

She muted the TV and grabbed her laptop, turning up her guilty pleasure. Pop music. She clicked the song According to You by Orianthi, and as she took the carton back into the kitchen she danced a little and sang along. Kenna never really let loose unless she was alone, and her good mood from hanging out with Darla was long gone, due to The Joker.

There was a noise outside her window, and Kenna spun around.

“Who’s there?” she called, holding out her spoon as if it were a weapon.

Silence met her challenge, and Kenna convinced herself that she was hearing things. That could happen when one spent extended periods of time with a madman.