The Gotham Queen

Chapter 8

When I had seen the room yesterday, it had more of a 'Welcome to Hell' vibe to it instead of the 'We're Here to Help' vibe we're supposed to be going for. Or I hope that's the vibe we're going for. The room has no windows with a metal table and two metal chairs, all bolted to the ground like everything else. There're no cameras in the room, which is a big concern, but I guess they think two guards is enough. The fact that there are riots and escape attempts happening all the time, I have to disagree with them.

I frown as I walk up to the door to the therapy session room and see Dr. Smith waiting. Is he waiting for me? What could he want this early in the morning? It's only 8:45 a.m. He perks up when he sees me, and I raise my eyebrow at him in curiosity. He gives me a worried look, and I start to wonder if something bad has already happened.

"Where have you been? I thought you had already quit, Dr. Quinzel. You're late on your second day." He tells me, and I furrow my brows in confusion. I know I'm not late because I made sure to leave my office early like planned. I had just checked the time before I left, so I know I couldn't possibly be late.

"What?" I ask him, showing just how confused I am. He looks at me in silence for a minute, and then bursts out laughing and I flinch at the sudden noise. I mentally curse my paranoid and broken nature.

It's just a laugh, Harleen. He isn't that scumbag.

Surprisingly, the voice is what calms me down. Maybe because she's always been there, hidden away in the back of my mind, and everything happening lately is bringing her out more.

"I'm just kidding, Dr. Quinzel. You looked so confused and worried. You should have seen your face." He laughs harder, and I start to chuckle nervously as I shuffle on my feet. Everyone isn't out to get me, so I need to work on not being so jumpy. That's harder to do than it sounds. "Well, your first patient is already in there and waiting."

What? I thought I'd have a few more minutes to look over the files. Taking a deep breath, I nod my head and walk into the depressing room. Two guards stand along the wall behind the woman sitting at the table, her green cat-like eyes watching me intently. She's calculating my every move as I slowly make my way to the chair across the table from her and sit down.

"Hello, Ms. Kyle." I smile at her before I open her file and look through it. The woman sitting in front of me is Selina Kyle, A.K.A Catwoman. She stands at a tall height of 5'7" and weighs 125 pounds. She's a master thief and can kill a person with a quick swipe of her metal clawed gloves she had made herself. A master gymnast, and a clever fighter too. She's escaped from Blackgate Penitentiary several times, and this is her first time ever being locked up in Arkham. I frown. Why lock her up in an Asylum if she doesn't have any diagnosis?

"Well, Ms. Kyle. I am Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I will be your psychiatrist for the time you are here in Arkham and will be here for anything you need. You can tell me anything you want or need to, and it will strictly stay between us." I tell her confidently, and her eyes narrow at me. She watches me for several minutes, and I start to grow nervous. What is she trying to figure out? Did I say something to upset her?

"Can you pass messages between patients?" She asks me, her eyes never leaving mine.

"I'm sorry, but unfortunately, I'm not allowed to do that. If you open up to me a little, I can see what I can do, but as of right now, I can't." She nods her head once but slouches down in her chair and looks at the wall behind my head. I wish I could pass messages between patients, but I can't do that due to the confidentiality restrictions.

The rest of the session goes by with me trying to get her to talk to me, but she ignores me completely. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought, and I try to think of the different things I can do to get her to open up. I know it isn't easy to talk to a random stranger who knows nothing about you or your life, but sometimes a fresh perspective on things can help.

Hypocrite.

I block out the voice as I try to talk to her about the several gems she's stolen over the years, but that doesn't work. I even try to mention her known acts of helping some people, but she just looks at me like I'm more of an annoyance than anything. I don't know what to do to get her to open up, and I'm starting to run out of ideas. If the guards weren't in here, maybe I could get her to talk. Maybe I could secretly pass her message along to whoever it is she wants to talk to.

The hour session ends with zero progress, and I nearly groan in frustration. I need to prove that I can handle this job and do it well, or I'll be fired. The guards step forward to take her back to her cell, and I sigh through my nose. She stands slowly and nods her head at them, being nicer than I thought she'd be for a killer. As she passes by me, her voice floors me.

"You're lucky you aren't wearing red today. He has several sessions throughout the day." She whispers to me, and I whip around to ask her what she means by that, but she's already out the door with the guards trailing behind her.