Addicted

Memories from Arkham pt 2

༻!TW!༺

✧Violent depictions 

✧Swearing

⛧Enjoy

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Joker- Arkham asylum, seven and a half years ago

Harleen Quinzel.

I lay in bed that night in my cell, reliving the conversation I had with Harleen. Maybe it was an introductory meeting, not a formal session. It seemed rather short. I wonder what she's doing.

Not thinking about you.

Shut up. You're a piece of shit.

We're a piece of shit.

Nope. I'm not you. You're not me. Even I have limits, and you're off-limits.

Oh, but I am you. Just a darker, more twisted version. Which is saying something since you're almost as dark and twisted as you can get. You're evil. Too evil to love. Too evil to have friends. You deserve nothing but pain. Nothing but-

"GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!" I finally scream, slamming my head into the glass wall of my enclosure. Aaron startles awake and stares at me in horror as I hit my head into the glass over and over and over until I fall over from the dizziness, laughing in hysterical pain. I curl up in a ball on the floor, bruises forming on my head as I pull my hair out and slice myself with my nails and sob through the early hours of the morning.

Harleen Quinzel.

She visits me at the exact same time as yesterday. What a punctual woman.

Harleen Quinzel.

"What happened to your forehead?" She asks, looking a tad concerned. I sit in silence, looking at the floor.

"Hey," she says, lifting my chin to look at her. I'm in a straitjacket because of last night's episode, so I cant do anything about it. 

You could bite her. 

"Did the voices win?" She asks.

"How did you know-"

She pulls up the sleeve of her shirt, exposing rows and rows of thin scars covering her forearms. I stare. She pulls her sleeves down again, embarrassed to have shown me something so personal so soon. "They say things to me too," she whispers. "They say I'm not good enough. That I'll never be good enough. What about you?"

I pause. "Mine say I deserve nothing but pain. Sometimes.... sometimes the only way to make them go away is to cause myself pain.. It proves them right, but I don't care. It gives me silence."

She looks at me, blue eyes sorrowful.

Alright. Enough of this feeling bullshit.

Yeah, you're right.

I giggle. She blinks. "I slammed my head into the wall," I snicker. "It was oh so fun, doctor. You have noooo idea how much I laughed last night," I chuckle. "And you know what? I was thinking about your question last night before my little head smashing thing. Why do I do what I do? Because it's funny. That's right, I said it. It makes me laugh to see people scream and hide and fear me like no other."

Her eyes are wide as saucers.

That's right. Scare her. Make her go away so we don't go soft for anyone ever again.