Addicted

Memories from Arkham pt 5

☼︎ TW!!

☾︎ Electrocution

✩ Enjoy!

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Joker

I wake up in a sterile white room that reeks of hand sanitizer and antiseptic. I squint my eyes to compensate for the harsh fluorescent lights shining directly into my eyes, trying to figure out where I am. It seems to be a hospital room, but no one is to be seen.

As if that triggered something, a man wearing a blue shirt and grey joggers under a white doctor's coat walks in through the doorway, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Well, well, well. Assigned to the Joker himself," he says, taking wire-rimmed glasses out of his pocket and putting them on. "That's an honor, now isn't it."

Why is everyone so obsessed with me? God, its exhausting. "Where is she?" I growl, hands clenching in their bindings.

The doctor laughs, coming to stand on my right. "Your little corrupted therapist? She's been let go, I'm afraid. Can't have insane, love-infested psychiatrists running around here, now can we? But I have a present for you from her," he says, stepping to the side and revealing an odd looking machine that I hadn't noticed before. It's rectangular and resembles a microwave, but with more tubes and more dials. There's a large red button that looks fun to push.

I refuse to speak, even to ask what it is. I read his nametag. Doctor Callagan. Well, he's wasting his breath. I don't talk to anyone but my Harley.

Callagan misinterprets my silence. "It's what I'm going to use to cure you," he says gleefully. "I wouldn't advise trying to get out of this one, Joe," he continues, running his hand down the side of the machine lovingly. "That's right, I know your name. It's obvious that Joker is an alias for Joseph Kerr, one of my old classmates. He went missing right before you appeared. I found it rather sad, seeing as we were school chums. But now, I have the chance to make it all right for you!"

He thinks I'm-

Humans are so stupid.

I let a smile slide onto my lips, a giggle trickling out. "You're a fool," I hiss, shaking with silent laughter.

Instantly, the doctor's face hardens. He leans down right close to my ear. "No, I'm a genius. How do you think I'm so young and working in Arkham Asylum? No one gets in here but the best."

He turns to the machine and starts furiously adjusting knobs and dials, flipping switches. The machine hums to life, steadily gaining volume.

Young? He has to be around my age, and I'm thirty-seven. Not that thirty-seven is old, but it certainly isn't young enough to use as an accomplishment.

The doctor picks up two metal and rubber suckers attached to cords from the machine and sticks them on my bare chest, one on each side. The machine's hum grows louder and louder.

I start to get a bad feeling.

"That precious 'Harley' of yours?" he whispers, leaning into my face. His shirt looks like it's made of wool. "She was gonna do this to you."

He presses a large red button and a jolt of electricity arcs its way into my chest and down my back. I'm immobilized by the wave of pain, frozen in agony. Callagan smiles and presses the button again. A scream starts low in my stomach but dies out as it reaches my throat.

Show no weakness.

I'M ON FIRE

I'M BURNING