We're All a Little Depraved

3

The Joker was holding a folder labeled 'Criminal Case 301: Avarice' on it. I held out hands as if to calm someone. But the Joker was calm. In fact, he was grinning maliciously.

"Please, let's not be hasty. Just give me my profile." I pleaded.
The Joker opened it.

"Don't." I warned.

He began reading, slowly, with vicious intent.

"Subject refers to self as Helena, perhaps she has an identity disorder. When referencing real name, subject becomes uncomfortable and if provoked will lash out. Recent tests prove mild identity disorder and copious amounts of strange chemicals in subjects blood stream."

He licked his lips and continued.

"Subject refused to be medicated, claiming she was perfectly fine. Security dug up tapes from three years ago, the start of the subjects quote unquote career. Tapes show subject entering the Gotham chemical plant at 21:37. Then the subject begins shady business deals with minor criminals at 22:45. Batman attempts to fight then apprehend the subject. He fails to do so, resulting in the subject falling into a chemical mixing vat at 00:01. Batman leaves at 1:27. Subject surfaces at 2:34. The tapes then show the subject leaving the chemical plant, her hair and eyes drastically changed, but otherwise the subject seems to be unaffected."

All eyes were on me, some piteous, some curious.

"Subject avoids speaking about home life or the accident and under force only shares bits and pieces. Subject tells of poverty as a child. She admits stealing to help her younger sister and widowed mother starting at age 15, a year before her accident. Subject seems proud of her criminal achievements. Subject admits to calling herself Avarice because of her supreme thieving abilities." Joker finished giddily.
"Why?" I asked dully.

There was no emotion, in my voice or on my face.

"Now let's read your information profile!" Joker said, as happily as a green haired clam.

I had to be restrained from whaling him over the head with a lamp.

"Ooh, your name is a lie? I'll save it for last. Let's see.. Your age is 19. Gender is OBVIOUSLY female." He said with a pronounced cough.

I scowled at him.

"Your race is Caucasian. Your skin used to be normal. Your real hair color is black. Your real eye color is grey." He said gleefully.
"How dull!" He happily insulted. "Your height is 5'8" Your weight...110 lbs. You are considered dangerous and not to be trusted. Your powers force them to use hand blocks whenever your psychiatrist visits. You fear m-" Joker paused and looked at a dark haired man.

The man, previously reading, perked up when he heard the word fear.

"I assume our dear Doctor Scarecrow would LOVE to hear this..?" Joker drawled. Scarecrow nodded once. Joker went on amusedly.
"Your fears are mild Androphobia, the fear of men; Athazagoraphobia, the fear of being abandoned; Autophobia, the fear of being alone and...how peculiar. My dear, you have Achluophobia? Otherwise known as the fear of the dark..?" Joker asked.

I hoped it was rhetorical. It wasn't. My face turned ashy grey.

"Vaugely." I snarled.

The Jokers eyes held slight pity for me, but his smile was permanent.

"And our lovely avarice's name." He continued.

I thought maybe he would have mercy, but I was wrong.
"No.." I whispered. "Don't."

He was about to speak again. I dashed into the hall. If I had to hear that goddamned name ever again...

"Alaina Elyria Doll."

I slammed against the wall harshly. I heard murmurs and finally Harley came out of the office.

"Are you okay, Ala-"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT." I yelled.
"It was worse when they read mine." She smiled ruefully.
"I don't need to hear your backstory. I already did." I snapped.

I felt bad, but I don't need friends. I've gotten along just fine without them. I never had them anyway. She looked hurt.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't need your damn lecture right now." I told her.
She smiled again, this time sadly. "You're a lot like I used to be."
I hung my head. "Now everyone knows."
Harley beamed. "I know how to cheer you up!" She claimed.
"How?" I said, mildly interested.
"I'm gonna play matchmaker for you!" I gave her a hard stare. Damn she was dim. "Harley, I'm afraid of being in relationships with men."
Her face fell, but she quickly brightened.
"So I'll set you up with girls!"
"No, Harley."
She frowned. "I'm setting you up with a guy no matter how much you resist!"

And with that, she ran off. I held my hands to my head. It hurt, everywhere, snapping. Breaking.
Mina Mina Mina. Alaina. Sisters, big bear, little bear.
Lisa and Tom. Parents. Dad went to sea. Pain. Six months later. MIA. Tears. Widow. Worn. Sisters, big bear, little bear. Tent fort. Mina. Lisa. Tom.

"Aaahhhahaha!" I cried.

I can't do this. It hurts, so bad. Ripping. My back to my stomach. Tearing into little Helena pieces.
I crouched, covering my ears with my hands.

"Ahaha-haha!" I was becoming hysterical.

As if covering my ears would block out the words I hear, every time I hear that damnable name.

"Woah, you really aren't faking crazy, are you?" A feminine voice mocked.

I glared, then slumped my head down. No one fears me here. No one loves me here. I'm not here to make friends.
Selina crouched next to me.

"Aw, it's all right. They're just giving you shit cause you're new. Once a shiny new play-thing comes along, they'll stop toying with you." She assured me.
I looked at her dubiously.
"They do it to everyone. You'll be all right. I promise." She said kindly.
She held out her pinky. I hooked mine on. I bit my lip.
"I promise." She said again.

Then my walls burst down.