You drive me crazy

Patient 4479

Darkness. Darkness all around me. I feel trapped, like there's no way out. "Guy?" I shout out into the dark emptyness, but there's not only darkness. A little strim of light appears and out of it he comes. "Guy!" I cry out to him and start running forward to embrace him, but something stops me. Something in his eyes. They keep staring at what seems to be nothing. "Guy? What's wrong? Why are you not answering me?" I cry and takes his hand. He's ice cold. I feel a tear running down my cheek but I let it be. Usually I do never let anyone see me cry but when it comes to Guy I don't care. Not in this situation, not now. That's when I see it. The big knife through his stomach and the big scar all around his neck almost like it have been cut right off. I take the knife out and Guy falls to the ground and his head is rolling across the floor and into the dark. I'm not moving. I'm paralyzed. All I can think about is that I'm alone with no one to show me the way out of here. I'm trapped with my dead future husband, and with the murder weapon - the knife - in my hand, but suddenly I hear something. Footsteps, coming closer. I know someone's standing behind me now becouse I can feel his or her's breath on my neck. Why am I not afraid? And why am I not stopping him from moving his lips closer to my neck? He starts kissing it, and I feel safe, but it's not lips that are kissing on my neck, they're knifes and they're not kissing me...

I wake up screaming, trying to forget my nightmare about Guy. That was the sixth nightmare about him this week, and it was only Thursday. I watch as my cat Red runs away from the bed looking as he's seen a ghost. I suppose that he got scared by my screaming. "Sorry baby" I say to him, hoping that he'll forgive me. I know he will ofcourse, but sometimes it just seems like he's too afraid of me to even look at me again. I check the clock. "Oh, wholy shit!" I say and get up of my bed. The clock was showing 7:27am, I must have forgotten to set the alarm! I walk to my wardrobe and I have to kick Red to the side not to trip on him. I open the wardrobe and undress, throwing my PJ's on the bed. I put on a pair of black leggings, a black pencil skirt and a white, long sleeved shirt with buttons. I run straight to the bathroom and put on some foundation, mascara and red lipstick so that I won't look like I just woke up - which I did. I brush my blonde hair and put it up in a bun. The smile Harley, you can do this! I have to practise my smile for work in the mirror each day since Guy died from that heart attack. Guy... In three weeks I would've been married to him and on the flight to Europe for our honeymoon if it wasn't for that heart attack.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and did a last smile to the mirror that said; I'm fine, thanks! I knew it's not wrong to show your feelings, but it's just easier to lie. I walked out the bathroom and into the hallway where I grabbed my Louis Vuitton bag and jacket and walked out the door to my red lamborghini car, took out the keys, unlocked the door and sat down. I started driving and turned on the radio and something on the radio cought my mind.
I turned up the volume.
"... The criminal - or as he'd like to call himself - The Joker will not be placed in black gate, but in Arkham Asylum becouse of mental disorder. There has been many arguments about wherther or not he should be in jail, but according to Doctor Jeremiah Arkham it's safer and healthier for him and his mind to be in the asylum. Officer James Gordon on the other hand says - and I quote "that the town is way to easy on criminals." There has been a lot of people blaming this case on the former vigilante "The Batman" which..." I turned down the volume. All this talk about that bat-guy, though he had been gone for almost a year. Poor man was probably as brain damaged as that criminal on the news.

I entered the door to the asylum where I instantly bumped into my co-worker Pamela Isley - a red-headed woman with big red lips, looking like someone out of a fashion or makeup magazine.
"Oh, hi Harl! I was just looking for you. We're having a meeting about patient 4479." The red-head said.
"4479?" I asked her. We have no 4479 in Arkham.
"Oh, that criminal man who was all over the news today, well he's kind of special, that's why we're having a meeting about who should have him" She answered me.
Special? I thought, What's so special about him that he gets some kind of "extra treatment"?
"He really sounds like a challenge, that "Joker" or whatever he's called." I said to keep up the smalltalk with Pamela to the conference room.
"And you like a challenge, am I right Harley? I think you should take him."
"Hey, Pam - it kinda sounds like you're trying to set me up with this guy."
"Well, you need to get over Guy at some point and I just thought - the sooner the better!"
I laughed. Pamela always made me laugh. She was like a big sister to me. She always had my back and I had hers.
When we made it to the conference room, Jeremiah got up from his chair and pulled out mine and Pamela's. We thanked and he sat back at his chair on the short edge of the big dark plastic table.
"So, we've come here to discuss who should be taking care of patient 4479..." He said before Pamela interupted him;
"Harley could do it!" Everyone around the table looked at her and then at me.
"Do you suppose you could do that Doctor Quinzel?" Jeremiah asked me.
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't turn him down now that he had asked me.
"Well I-I suppose so." I answered with a very shaking voice which I hope that the others couldn't hear.
"Then I quess that this meeting is over" he said and chuckeled. "When do you want to start, with the latest day being Saturnday?" He asked me, and as Doctor Isley said - I do love a challenge.
"I'll start right away." I said and made a small giggle, surpriced over my own enthusiasm.
"Well, um, sure. This way Doctor Quinzel." He said and showed me the way to one of the patient cells.
Doctor Arkham left and I walked into the room and that sight on the chair. That person... His face was full of clown makeup - white face paint, black around the eyes, badly painted red lips. But there were lots of differences from a clown to like the scars in his face formed like a smile and the actual smile which was almost mean and almost kind, the sight was so... I got interupted in my thoughts as he started to speak.
"Good day Doctor, my name is The Joker - or as they call me around here - patient 4479.