From her eyes || Poison Ivy

6: November 28th

Thursday
11:00am

It had been a week since I'd seen Harleen, and I couldn't deny that I'd missed her when she didn't turn up for our usual session on Tuesday. I'd gotten used to her bringing me a homemade meal on the Tuesdays so I could have it instead of the inedible asylum provided meals, much to the dislike of the guards. When they'd come to bring me my clean jumpsuit the next morning, I'd received a bunch of comments that they'd eat the homemade meals themselves if they felt like it, or insinuating that my tricks to seduce Dr Quinzel were working.

I'd rolled my eyes at that - I wasn't trying to seduce her, if anything she would be the one coming on to me if there was any flirting going on. I just rolled with the punches, anyway, my pheromones didn't work very well in this cell practically full of pesticide. If only I could get out of here I'd show those guards what I was made of.

My thoughts were cut short by the commotion of the doors, and the entrance of my doctor Harleen.

"Here she is, lady of the week he-" I started, before my eyes fully landed on her.

Her lips were set in a line, and there was now settling but very dark bruise noticeable on her neck, which she had tried to hide with her high collared shirt.

"Baby," I started, my eyes widened. "What happened to you?"

It seemed as if she had pursed her lips in order to stop her from crying as as soon as I began to speak softly, the tears began to fall. She tried her best to hide her red eyes behind her hand, but I ushered her over to where I was sitting.

"I'm sorry I missed our last session." she sniffled, wiping her wet face to no luck and sitting down next to me.

As the door guard seemed to be not in this world at the moment, I took Harleen's feminine hands in mine and looked her in the eyes. "Don't worry about it at all, I'm just worried about that fucked mark on your neck. Now come on and tell your friend Ivy what happened." I murmured, giving a comforting soft smile; I hadn't seen this side of me in years.

She took a deep breath. "One of my other patients did it, he used me to escape. Choked me until I almost blacked out and used me as a meat shield so the guards just had to let him go. It happened early Tuesday so I was excused for the rest of that day and yesterday." she explained, her eyes focusing downward on my green long nailed hands which were holding hers.

I assumed she also noticed as they tensed up at her words. "Who was it?" I asked, my words without tone.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, it's fine." she replied dismissively.

I leaned in further. "Harley. Who did this to you. Tell me, please." I repeated, my words this time were harsher and more demanding. I felt as she shook in my hands.

"I- M-Mr J, the Joker I mean." she stammered, looking everywhere but my eyes.

"They gave you that clown as a patient? Oh those sick bastards..."

"No! No! I asked for him as a patient, this is my fault!" Her face was burning up with shame and I felt like a mother warning her child. A strange feeling.

I was unsure of what to say but I was curling up with rage, my hands were most likely shaking as much as her now. Nevertheless I stroked my thumb over her knuckles and listened to her angered breathing as almost silence fell between us.

She started first. "You know what the worst part is?"

I looked up at her reddened features. "What?"

She dared to settle her eyes on me at last. "I'm more upset that they'll take me off his case, than I am about what he did."

The words I could possibly have expected didn't fall out of her mouth, and so I grew silent. My thoughts fell to Jason Woodrue, and how I'd felt as those chemicals boiled my blood and tore at my skin from the inside. But also how I'd felt as I watched him take one look at me dying, and had dropped everything and ran. The pain I'd felt as paramedics somehow found me, and brought me to Gotham General as my heart stopped and left me dead, before bringing me back again, and killing me once more. When one dies in considerable pain, something about their person... their mind or soul, is fractured, and cannot be brought back when they're resurrected.