Drowning in the Roses and Flames

The Therapy Session of a Harley Quinn

  A Harley Quinn is someone sweet, crazy, free, and most importantly loyal. She believed in love so much that despite everything he had done she always returned by his side. People know when she enters a room because she lights it up with her wild child spirit. When the people are gone that's when you truly see who she is. When she takes off that costume, there are hundreds of scars in which he left. The heartache lingers,  she looks into a mirror, and she realizes that in getting lost in love she has lost herself. Welcome to the Shitshow. Would you like a front-row seat?

My name is Hailey, and I have learned rather quickly just how much life sucks. My capability of choosing a life partner is a ticking dumpster fire, the concept of "finding yourself" is impossible when it changes every day, and most days I have no idea if I despise the chaos or thrive in it.

There's a man that I speak to regularly, and funny thing I don't remember how we met or even know his name. The two of us bond in social awkwardness, and through loneliness. He said something to me the other day, and it made me genuinely take a step back for a second and think.

"But there's a thing about this kind of relationship and I think you have trust issues which is going to make it difficult for you.."
Trust issues...
I have lived in a world that in every step has proved time and time again that you can only trust yourself. It is clichè and sounds like an old man screaming for the kids to get off the lawn. The thing is that when push comes to shove the person who says they will never leave will be first to master a Houdini.
       I sit in a small office staring at the new patient papers lost in my thoughts. I click the cheap pen knowing that these need to be filled out, but I know this is a mistake. I have stood before judges, police, and social workers, and no matter how much I have screamed no one has been willing to hear me.

"You may be crazy, Hailey, but you are not stupid. Drop it, or maybe we need to consider your capability of being a mother." The memories of the cop pinning me in a corner flash through my mind.

I try to shake off the pain of the memories, and yet like dust in a dusty room, it has settled. For the girl who has been told her whole life, people would never abandon her she knows it was all surface deep. I have to pay for someone to hear my screams, and pray to the god who abandoned me that this person can hear me. 

      A person walks out of the back room with a smile on their face, and an older gentleman walks behind him. The first man walked out the door feeling incredibly happy

The moment the two of us met eyes my body freezes up like a deer, and my heart is racing. Any second I'm going to have to face what I wrote about why I'm here, and I can't help but worry that he is going to just judge me like everyone around me.

The two of us walk into the back room, and I notice a neatly stacked set of books. A half smile made it across my face excited that I enjoyed reading too. Walking over to the couch pressure builds in my chest as I forget to breathe.

"My name is Jaxon, it's a pleasure to meet you, so I glanced over why you are here—" The clusterfuck of a confession of someone who has nothing left to lose other than her life. Pain shoots throughout my body, but radiates the most inside my chest and behind my eyes.

He gives a reassuring smile that says everything will be okay, but I know it's never a guarantee.

       I look at the baby blue walls that complement the waterfall noise that is supposed to create a calming effect. This place is so beautiful, this guy seems so kind, and here I am to dump the turmoil of my life everywhere destroying it all.

"My name is Hailey, and I just..." Suicide would have been my first option, but three babies need to be protected.

He starts talking, but everything that he says is completely muted by the anxiety. What the serious fuck  am I doing? Why am I even here?

    Of course, to protect the young girl from the sick fuck who preyed on her in the psychiatric ward. She was looking for someone to protect her from the sick world, and the sweet whispers of his words melted her walls. Bryan destroyed two women, and she is going to be his third trophy in completely nuking another person's sanity. Is it that? Or is it possible the true reason behind getting help is the incapability to accept that he is happy?

The therapist is staring at me waiting for a response, but my thoughts are racing so fast that there are no words to be found. Anxiety is like a million insects are consuming my body, and I find it impossible to breathe. Distractions... anything in this damn room... How is this room damn empty?

"I need help... no I need to cry...  I just need place to cry... I can't cry in public people will stare... I can't cry at home because my children... I just..." I grab a tissue, and allow just a single small fragment of the pain I've endured to escape.

The rest of the session was silent though it doesn't mean that communication was dead. I know that the man saw a girl desperately trying to put tmthe pieces of the broken mirror together. Constantly grabbing pieces of broken glass, and bleeding everywhere desperately trying to put the thing back together. Though the man was silent I knew for the first time someone could finally hear me. He reassured me that he was never going to give up on me, and for first time in my life I believed it.