Protect Me From What I Want

My next session with Dr Reed had been rescheduled to a later time in the day thankfully, but unfortunately I wasn’t aware of this until after I had woken up early in the morning. Therefore I spent the majority of the morning wandering in circles around the recreation room searching for something the least bit interesting to occupy my mind. I was even attempting to watch the TV for awhile but the channel that it was currently on was basically a group of old people discussing politics. They could have at least put a channel on that people would actually enjoy and something that would cheer this dreary place up.

I knocked on the sliding, glass window to attract the nurses attention from the other side of the room. The young brunette looked up from placing specific pills into little Dixie cups and then slid open the window.

“What seems to be the matter, Miss Quinzel?” The nurse asked softly.

“I was wondering if it would be possible to turn the channel over, to a one that’s more interesting and entertaining?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, but that TV is on for everyone Miss Quinzel, not just you. Many others are interested in watching that TV channel now so it’s not fair on all of the other patients to turn the channel over,” she stated as she waved a hand in the direction of the TV. I looked over my shoulder and observed the patients that were “watching” the TV. To put it simply, they looked brain dead. The boredom had completely gotten to them and they no longer cared if the channel was something that didn’t interest them in the least. Obviously this wasn’t as clear to the nurse than it was to me.

“Fine, but can I at least go outside again or something to get some fresh air?”

“Miss Quinzel, you know that your exercise period is on Tuesdays only. I can’t possibly let you go outside.”

“Stop patronising me. I know that my exercise period is on Tuesdays and that’s why I asked if I could go out again!”

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Quinzel.”

“And I don’t appreciate yours!” I exclaimed and walked away from her, my tolerance finally reaching its peak. I was sick of all the nurses like her, always patronising and speaking to patients as if they’re kids. It’s about time someone slapped her across the face.

“Aw, Jane. Let her have her fresh air. Once a week isn’t long enough and people need to get out to absorb all of the beauties of nature,” I heard an unfamiliar voice protest as I made my back over to the TV.

“Stay out of this, Isley. I didn’t make the rules so don’t shoot the messenger. This conversation is over!” The nurse exclaimed as she slammed the window shut and returned to her previous task. I quickly looked up to see a tall woman with bright red hair walking down the corridor and then into a cell after a guard had opened it for her. She was holding something in her hand, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was.

The red head seemed to be the only other patient that seemed to hold the ability to talk. And she stuck up for me too. At least there was someone else in this ward that was as sane as me. I was shaken out of my thoughts when a guard grasped my shoulder and jerked it gently. I looked up still slightly dazed.

“Dr Reed is ready to see you,” he stated. I shook my head in acknowledgment and stood up beside him. He then began leading me out of the recreation room and down the corridor.

Just like last session, Brook was standing at the frame of her door awaiting my arrival to greet me.

“Hello, Harley. Come on in.” Without a word I entered and she shut the door behind me. I sat down cross legged on the sofa and patiently awaited her questions. “So, Harley. How’s your day so far?” She asked.

“Boring,” I replied simply.

“Care to extrapolate?”

“Ok. First I still had to wake up early because no-one told me that out session had been postponed. Therefore I had nothing to do at all. I tried watching the TV but the channel was mind numbingly boring. I asked the nurse nicely if she could turn it over. That was a no go. I asked her if I could go out instead. Still a no go. Apparently my tone wasn’t appreciated after that and so now I’m in a rotten mood.” My rant seemed to vent out a little of my stress from the previous predicament. Being locked up in Arkham can get to me sometimes, but having someone to complain to always made me feel better.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe I can arrange for patients to be able to have more than one exercise period a week perhaps.”

“Much appreciated.”

“As for now maybe you can try some sort of other activity possibly. Do you talk to any of the other patients here in Arkham?”

“No. They’re all nutcases! I can’t even walk near one of the other female patients without them flinching slightly, let alone try and talk to them.”

“You should try talking to one of them. It might do you some good to speak to someone other than me. Maybe the reason why they flinch is because of your title and what you’re now known for.”

“I doubt it. Even if I wasn’t who I am, they’d flinch. It’s not a flinch of fear, it’s more like a severe case of paranoia.” Which was true. I could easily tell that they weren’t afraid of me in general because I saw the way the reacted around other people other than me and it was exactly the same.

“You know what. I’m going to give you homework. When you walk out of this session, I want you to talk to some of the patients. Get to know them better. Make some friends in here. It’ll do you good and maybe you won‘t be as bored. I know how dull this building can get.”

“I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try.”

I decided to get straight onto the task given as soon as I left the session. As usual the sessions resorted to questions about The Joker and all the little stories me and him went through.

When I returned to the recreation room, everyone looked as if they were in the exact same position as they were previously. I sighed as I glanced over all of the girls. There was one girl sitting on a window sill staring outside at nothing in particular. I knew she was definitely someone I didn’t want to talk to. A lot of the girls knew briefly of her story. This one time in Arkham, she smashed the glass window of the nurses room in anger and attempted to use one of the shards of glass to kill herself with. The train track like scars up and down her arms were enough to say that she had already attempted suicide like that before. I didn’t know her name, but she was really the only one I had a vague idea on why she was here on. It seems like she gets angry at the littlest things, so I suggest I stay away from her.

I returned to scanning over the rest of the women, but all of them looked equally troubled and unpredictable. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.

“Okay everyone. It’s dinner time. If you could please make your way out of the recreation room from the corridor to the left,” the head nurse called out in the nurses office through the microphone. A few guards and nurses accompanied all of the patients as they were escorted to the cafeteria on the bottom floor.

I queued up in the dinner line staring at all of the monotonous colours in the room. It was surrounded by grey slabs, covering the ceiling, floor and walls and the metal tables and chairs nailed to the ground held a similar dull colour. All of the patients wore white to add to the consumption of boring colours.

As usual I sat by myself at one of the tables after I had received some kind of soup which didn’t really look appetising at all. Mindlessly, I began swirling the soup around in the bowl with my spoon and jumped slightly when I heard a bowl being placed next to me. I glanced upwards to meet a pair of light blue eyes staring back at me.

“Dr Quinzel,” he said monotonously as he sat down beside me.

“Dr Crane,” I retorted similarly turning my head back around to look at the soup once again. I groaned inwardly now that my privacy had been invaded. Dr Jonathan Crane otherwise known as Scarecrow was also once a doctor working in Arkham. He created a poison called the fear toxin, which revealed peoples deepest fear and attempted to fill all of Gotham with the gas. Basically, Batman stopped him and then was later sent to Arkham. Pretty tragic.

“So, Harleen Quinzel. What’s it like to be sent to the funny farm after once being a talented, respectable doctor?” He asked bluntly.

“I would have thought you’d know. Considering that the exact same thing happened to you too.” I replied smarmily. “Besides what I did, technically wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh, I heard about your little clown business. I’m assuming that The Joker “forced” you into doing it. Because apparently you have no will power at all,” he stated sarcastically.

“Did you sit next to me simply for the teasing or do you actually have a reason for being here?” I asked irritated dropping my spoon in the soup and twisting my body to look at him more directly.

“I thought you always looked so lonely, Quinzel. I thought that maybe you’d want a friend, so I started up some small talk.”

“Well, quite frankly the small talk is quite annoying. So if you don’t mind, can you please stop talking to me.”

“Feisty one, aren’t you? So if you’re not into small talk, let’s get into some deep conversation. How was The Joker?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” I questioned slightly confused.

“I mean, how was he? There must have been something about him that made you stick around for so long. It’s certainly not the fashion sense. It’s not the looks. It’s not the personality. So, he must have been good, right? Come on, everyone's aching to know.”

“Excuse me?” I asked quite shocked by the bluntness of the question. If he was talking about what I thought he was talking about then I have a right to be taken aback. What me and The Joker did alone was our business and wasn’t to be shared with anyone else.

“Was he good?” He repeated just as simply.

“Excuse-”

“Is he bothering you?” I heard someone interrupt in front of me. I looked forward and saw the same red head from earlier sitting on the table in front of mine. Her body was twisted around to face both me and Crane. It was just then that I noticed how perfect she was. She had amazingly bright green eyes in contrast to her bright red hair and her curves were extremely prominent even though she was wearing the patient scrubs.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure,” I replied friendly.

“Jonny, why are you such an ass?” She asked simply as she stood up from her table and crossed her arms agitatedly. Oh and she was tall to add to her list of perfections. She pulled out a seat in front of me and sat down on it.

“What did I do? I was just trying to start a mere conversation,” he argued sounding very laidback.

“Don’t mind him,” the red head whispered with a low and intriguing voice.

“I’m Harley,” I smiled happy that I had met someone that I was able to talk to.

“Oh, I know. I think everyone in Arkham knows who you are. When you blow up half of Gotham, it’s pretty hard not to. And before you start to protest against me, I know you’re going to say that none of it is your fault. I understand that. I think almost everyone knows that it’s all The Joker’s doing. I’ve heard stories about how manipulating he can be. I’ve only ever seen him maybe twice while I’ve been in Arkham, but stories and rumours spread fast. But I bet you have some great stories about him. There's a lot of rumours and stories about you going around and a lot of people still think that you're partially the reason behind half of Gotham blowing up. To some that's good, to others not so good. Anyway…my real name is Pamela Isley. But you can call me Poison Ivy.”