Status: Complete! ❤
You Don't Own Me
one; this is gonna be fun
"Miss Baker, please tell me why you're here. In fact, do you even know where you are?," a male's voice echoed through Violet's brain. Her eyes finally focused and she could eventually see that it was her therapist, Brad. She still couldn't believe that was his name. Brad. It sounded so... douche bag from a movie made in the 80s. But Brad wasn't a douche bag in a movie made in the 80s. Not this Brad, anyway. This Brad was an asshole therapist sitting right there in present times.
"Of course I know where I am," she spat the words at him, thinking about how lucky Brad was that she was restrained and couldn't punch him. Man, did she want to punch him.
"Please share then, Miss Baker," Brad said to her in his obnoxious monotone.
"Will you please just fucking call me Violet?" she asked him roughly, straining against the straps around her wrists and ankles.
"Violet. Where are you and why are you here?" Brad persisted, and she reveled in the fact that she was annoying him.
"I'm at Arkham, obviously. The fuckin' loony bin, ya know? And I'm here because I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep myself alive," she said to him in an exaggerated voice, and he shook his head.
"That's not why you're here, Violet."
"It is, Brad," she told him, dragging the 'a' sound in his name out dramatically.
"No. You're here because you killed people, Violet. Twelve people, your own father included," Brad said, and she saw his eyes grow a little wide as her face clouded over in rage.
"I killed perverts, Braaaad. I killed my father, the man who had been forcing me to do unspeakable things to him for years. I killed eleven other men that had been doing the same things to their sons or daughters or what-the-fuck ever," Violet said, leaning forward over the table and baring her teeth at him like an angry dog might. Brad visibly backed up just slightly.
"You broke into a private recovery meeting and killed all of its attendees, including the moderator that had never had any known history of molestation or anything similar," Brad reminded her.
"Yeah, well, fuck him. I'm sure he'd done something to deserve it," she said, using the same defense she'd used every time someone mentioned the twelfth man.
"Why don't you want to get better, Violet? You know that if you'd just prescribe to our procedures and stop finding ways around taking your medications, you'd have a much higher chance of ever getting out of here. Don't you want out of here?" Brad asked her, and she shook her head pointedly.
"Mostly what I want right now, Braaad, is to bash your fuckin' brains in," Violet told him, smiling sweetly.
Without another word, Brad motioned for the guards on each end of the room and they lifted Violet roughly to take her back to her cell. Just as she did every time this happened, she thrashed violently in their arms, hoping to at least get a knee into one of their groins.
The guards tossed her into her cell and the bigger of the two removed her restraints roughly, making sure she fell down to the floor when he was done. She spit at his back as he walked away and both guards turned to laugh at her through a small window as she rushed the thick steel door as it closed.
"Fucking pigs," she growled, sitting heavily on her thin mattress and massaging the spots on her wrists where the restraints had almost cut through her skin.
A moment later, there was a huge commotion in the hall on the other side of her door and she walked towards it curiously. Peeking through the window, she couldn't believe what she saw. Two guards were dragging a limp body down the corridor, and even though his head was down and she couldn't see his face, she knew at once who it was. By the sound of it, all the other inmates did too. Most of them were screaming his name, and some were even screaming about how they were going to kill him.
As Violet watched, the guards carried the Joker and threw him into the cell directly to the left of hers. She listened as the thick door closed and then moved to the small barred window between the cells and peeked through it at him. She couldn't believe she was really looking at him. But with his bright greens shock of hair and the smeared makeup on his face, she was sure it had to actually be him.
"Well, this is gonna be fun," she said to his still body. She left the window and sat back down on her awful mattress. "A lot of fun indeed, Mister J," she repeated, unable to stifle the hysterical giggle that bubbled up out of her throat.
"Of course I know where I am," she spat the words at him, thinking about how lucky Brad was that she was restrained and couldn't punch him. Man, did she want to punch him.
"Please share then, Miss Baker," Brad said to her in his obnoxious monotone.
"Will you please just fucking call me Violet?" she asked him roughly, straining against the straps around her wrists and ankles.
"Violet. Where are you and why are you here?" Brad persisted, and she reveled in the fact that she was annoying him.
"I'm at Arkham, obviously. The fuckin' loony bin, ya know? And I'm here because I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep myself alive," she said to him in an exaggerated voice, and he shook his head.
"That's not why you're here, Violet."
"It is, Brad," she told him, dragging the 'a' sound in his name out dramatically.
"No. You're here because you killed people, Violet. Twelve people, your own father included," Brad said, and she saw his eyes grow a little wide as her face clouded over in rage.
"I killed perverts, Braaaad. I killed my father, the man who had been forcing me to do unspeakable things to him for years. I killed eleven other men that had been doing the same things to their sons or daughters or what-the-fuck ever," Violet said, leaning forward over the table and baring her teeth at him like an angry dog might. Brad visibly backed up just slightly.
"You broke into a private recovery meeting and killed all of its attendees, including the moderator that had never had any known history of molestation or anything similar," Brad reminded her.
"Yeah, well, fuck him. I'm sure he'd done something to deserve it," she said, using the same defense she'd used every time someone mentioned the twelfth man.
"Why don't you want to get better, Violet? You know that if you'd just prescribe to our procedures and stop finding ways around taking your medications, you'd have a much higher chance of ever getting out of here. Don't you want out of here?" Brad asked her, and she shook her head pointedly.
"Mostly what I want right now, Braaad, is to bash your fuckin' brains in," Violet told him, smiling sweetly.
Without another word, Brad motioned for the guards on each end of the room and they lifted Violet roughly to take her back to her cell. Just as she did every time this happened, she thrashed violently in their arms, hoping to at least get a knee into one of their groins.
The guards tossed her into her cell and the bigger of the two removed her restraints roughly, making sure she fell down to the floor when he was done. She spit at his back as he walked away and both guards turned to laugh at her through a small window as she rushed the thick steel door as it closed.
"Fucking pigs," she growled, sitting heavily on her thin mattress and massaging the spots on her wrists where the restraints had almost cut through her skin.
A moment later, there was a huge commotion in the hall on the other side of her door and she walked towards it curiously. Peeking through the window, she couldn't believe what she saw. Two guards were dragging a limp body down the corridor, and even though his head was down and she couldn't see his face, she knew at once who it was. By the sound of it, all the other inmates did too. Most of them were screaming his name, and some were even screaming about how they were going to kill him.
As Violet watched, the guards carried the Joker and threw him into the cell directly to the left of hers. She listened as the thick door closed and then moved to the small barred window between the cells and peeked through it at him. She couldn't believe she was really looking at him. But with his bright greens shock of hair and the smeared makeup on his face, she was sure it had to actually be him.
"Well, this is gonna be fun," she said to his still body. She left the window and sat back down on her awful mattress. "A lot of fun indeed, Mister J," she repeated, unable to stifle the hysterical giggle that bubbled up out of her throat.