Harley Diaries (Harley's story)

One

Let's start from the beginning.

Ahem.

Out of a large family, I was the least favorite. I was the quiet one. I didn't give a care in the world what was happening around me, I only cared about my books and studies. At a young age, I wanted to be a psychiatrist. Mama and Papa hated the thought of me being the quiet one.

"Why don't you keep your nose out of those lousy books, Kid?" Papa asked drunkenly, spilling his beer all over my page. "Be a normal kid and go outside."

"Harleen doesn't do 'outside', Papa." One of my sisters, Clara pointed out.

"I'm not a child to play with sticks and dumb games like tag." I  said.

"Harleen, do what your father tells you," Mama said as she stirred the soggy oatmeal in a pot on the small wood stove. 

"Fine," I said as I stood up from the table while sneaking my book under my shirt. Papa notices and grabs my wrist.

"Give." He said with his other beefy hand open.

I glared at him begging him to do his worse.

"NOW." 

I handed him the book with a trembling hand, I watched in shock as he tore the book in half and in half again.

Now I would say that my father was a jerk, but that wouldn't even define what he was to me.

Anyhow, I grew up and graduated successfully.

I had my heart broken once or twice as you may imagine. 

You might know this story that happens next that always makes me smile ear to ear when I tell it.

The story of the time I met my puddin'.

I remember that day. It was my first day working at Arkham Asylum.

I stepped through those two swinging doors in my cherry red heals clicking clacking across the marble floor. I walked up to the front desk.

"Hi, my name is Harleen Quinzel, I'm the new psychiatrist." I said with a flashing smile.

"Ah, Harleen. Good to know you came here on time." The receptionist answered politely. 

"Right, what is my job for today?" I read the tag on the receptionist's chest, Melody.

"Let's see," Melody said while tip tapping on her keyboard. "You're working with-"

Just as Melody began to explain what I was doing that day, two men holding a fighting man in a straight jacket and green hair bursts through the door. I watched in awe. I've seen this man before, people called him 'The Joker'. He definitely represents the name as he showed me a crooked smile. 

"Hi, Beautiful." He smiled as a chill went down my spine.

His voice was strong, but surprising.

"H-hey." I muttered.

"Shut up, you prick." One of the guards shouted to the crazy man before me as he grabbed the Joker.

The two men drug the Joker through the back doors. 

"Hahahaha," Joker shouts in laughter.

"Sorry about that miss, that was the worst of the worst here in our Asylum. As I was saying before you have... erm..." Melody pauses in shock.

"What? Who do I have?" I was in a unsettled state.

"Joker." She says sadly.

"Oh." I say. Well isn't this surprising?

-----------------------------------------------------

I looked at the room number 120 above the door in agitation. Should I dare to enter it?

Before my hand touched the door knob, I breathed a sigh. I opened it.

My eyes adjusted to the single light in the middle of the room, a man in a straight jacket sat in a chair before a table.

"Well well well, look who it is." The spine-chilling voice says in the darkness.