Jerome & Harleen

9 • Undeveloped Feelings

December 14
8:00

    It soon becomes clear to me that the Joker, so often described as a raving, homicidal madman, is actually a tortured soul crying out for love and acceptance, a lost injured child trying to make the world laugh at his antics. It has been hard, I admit, to see him in this new light, but each time I look over my notes from our therapeutic sessions, or take a daring gaze into his dark eyes, I am heartstruck, left completely open in my feelings for him. I have honestly come to think that perhaps seeing him as simply a psychopathic criminal is wrong, when there's so much more behind his crazed actions. There's so much more to the Joker than that smile that meets the civilian eye.

    But there, as always, is the self-righteous Batman, determined to make life miserable for my angel. His low tolerance for Mr. Joker and failure to see behind that demented smile only fuels my growing hatred for the costumed "hero"...if I can even call him that. Who thinks to show up in a bat costume, in the middle of the night, to capture criminals? Even worse, not once has he revealed his true identity. How can people call him a hero if they don't even know his name? How can he do criminals justice if he refuses to acknowledge their mental and physical sickness, instead choosing only to them up with little to no mercy?

    The change in my aura since learning to understand all this has given me a new confidence. I stride the halls of Arkham as more than an intern these days. Instead, I walk around as the very best version of myself.

    In addition, I greet each session with a psycho as a new opportunity to learn. I've found myself more and more interested in those appointments with patients, including a girl named Ivy Pepper, a man they call "Scarecrow," and still, as always, Joker.

December 16
7:00

    I was granted yet another hour with the Joker today. It seems the staff is finally starting to recognize that my work with him has paid off and led to understanding his brain a bit better. In fact, I feel as though I know the Joker completely. Sometimes I get so carried away in my meetings, I begin to talk with him about my own issues. It's funny, really. But hilarious as it it, on this day, as we speak, something begins to shift between us.

"Yes, I admit it. As unprofessional as it sounds, I have fallen in love with my patient..." I blurt to him, "...Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Not at all. As a dedicated, career oriented young women, you felt the need to abstain from all amusement and fun. It's only natural you'd be attracted to a man who could make you laugh again." His words are strangely soothing in my ears. He speaks softly of this topic, as though a weight is resting on us. But...was my confession too much? Is it too...insane?

"I knew you'd understand," is all I let out, eager to please him.

"Any time."

I smile as he utters those words and as I walked out from our session, but something inside me has changed. A wall of denial has shattered, one I didn't even know existed. Emotion and shock hit me like a brick wall.

A doorway to my past has opened up, and finally I remember something from all those years ago...

    Jerome. His voice floods my mind. The boy who showed a peculiar interest in me...the boy who turned out to be completely psycho. His whispers in my ear, the names he called me, the brief meetings we had - it's all coming back. And that one defining night when I scribbled all over the walls of my room. The horror on my mother's face when she saw the destruction.

    Now I remember why I blocked it all out. She thought I was going mad. I thought I was going mad. Amidst the chaos, the crazy, Mom insisted we leave town. She picked up our family and moved us elsewhere. She forced me to visit a therapist, to speak about my demented feelings towards that murderer, but it didn't take. Instead of coping like normal people do, I chose to forget. To forget it ALL. Isn't that crazy?

    The only thing that doesn't add up about the past is...Jerome Valeske died. He was stabbed...in the neck...and the body was even shown. On TV. If the Joker really is the same person...well...is it possible he could've been...I don't know...resurrected?!

    At this point, anything seems possible. It appears as if my sanity is fading yet again. And this time...I don't quite seem to mind.