Chapter 11: The Outburst

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As soon as he was dragged from the room I burst into tears. I covered my mouth with my hands in an attempt to muffle my cries. I felt myself internally cave in, folding into myself as the pain of the entire situation wracked my entire body. I gave myself a minute before I took a couple deep breaths to steady my emotions. I would not let myself continue to cry over this man. I wiped the tears from my cheeks, readjusted my glasses, and tucked my hair behind my ears before getting up from my seat and leaving the room. I set my notes back in my office, placing the tear stained papers in the Joker's file. Part of me was surprised that I had dismissed him so angrily, but I decided that he deserved it. He had put me through so much shit... Perhaps he was right, I had been better off without him. Yet, the true irony of it all was that just as I had finally clawed my way to the top, here he was in Arkham, ready to tear me down again. But I wouldn't let him, not this time. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall behind my desk, it was only noon. I sighed internally, knowing that I still had a very long day ahead of me. I tended to my other cases, appreciating time with my original patients on a whole new level now that I was treating my deranged husband. To say that I was not looking forward to our next appointment would be an understatement. It was all so confusing. I never wanted to see him again and yet all I wanted to do was look upon the face that had only haunted my nightmares before. It all made me sick to my stomach. I tried to distract myself from the conflict within me by investing all of my energy with my work. I extended my sessions with Arnold and Jarvis, and yet my husband remained in the back of my mind. He was like my own personal disease that was incurable once it infected me. It was subdued since I thought he had passed, but with Jeremiah's resurgence it returned. I had to get a grip on myself before I could continue treating him. I attempted to assign him to another psychiatrist but Dr. Carlisle insisted that I follow his case through, as I was the only one he would talk to. I feared I might have just ruined that by telling him that I didn't forgive him. I mean, how could I after everything I had suffered before and after his supposed death? I sat back in my office, contemplating on how I wished to move forward with the man who once had my heart, when suddenly the phone rang. "Dr. Quinzel speaking." I answered and I was about to ask the caller how I could help them when I was interrupted abruptly. "Code Red!" A man shouted into the phone and I was taken aback. Code Red meant that one of the patients in the hospital had been killed. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. They wouldn't have called me unless one of my patients was involved. "Who?" I whispered into the phone, already knowing the answer. "It was Joker." The man replied and I let out a shaky breath. I dropped my phone, abandoning all reason as I ran to the elevator and once I reached level "D". I was met with a wall of security guards and forensic investigators. I pushed past those who would permit me, getting a better view of the cell right next to the Joker's. It was the center of all the attention, and I gasped at the sight before me. The walls were covered in blood, the poor patient lying on the floor with his face caved in from whatever abuse had been done to it. But from the wristband the patient was wearing, I knew it wasn't Joker and I felt myself internally sigh despite the tragedy. I walked up to a police officer investigating the scene. "Im Dr. Quinzel, The Joker is my patient. What happened here?" I asked him. He shook his head, glancing back at the bartered carcass. "He beat this poor man to death. The sick bastard didn't even use a weapon, he did it with his bare hands." He informed me and somehow knowing that Jeremiah was capable of this level of brutality reminded me just how far removed he was from his former self. He was cold before, but never so violent. The investigators were scrapping the victim's brains from the walls and I decided that I couldn't look anymore. My blood was boiling, this was all a result of my session with him. I refused to let myself feel anything but anger about the situation because I wouldn't give him that power. Turning from the scene I looked at the officer seriously. "Where is he?" I pressed, unsure why I cared. "They've put him in the dark room. That's all I know." He told me and I left the scene and walked to the end of the hall, where the dark rooms were. Each room was completely pitch black and padded. It was intended to isolate the patient to give them a space where they can think about their actions while preventing them from being a danger to themselves or others. I marched up to the door with five guards, knowing that my husband would be found in the room behind them. "Let me see him." I demanded, my skin hot with anger. When they didn't budge I prepared myself to shove them out of my way so that I could give the Joker a piece of my mind. As I was about to make my attack, Dr. Carlisle stepped in front of me. "Harleen. I need you to turn around and leave this floor. He needs time to reflect. You will have your chance to chew him out tomorrow. Why don't you go home early?" He scolded me and I realized that I did need to take a step back. I was acting on emotion, angry that my husband had worried me and that he had killed a man because of me. Perhaps I was a hypocrite because I had blood on my hands as well. But Ecco was different... I thought that she killed the love of my life, which warrants her demise. A life for a life. What score was the Joker settling by killing this man? I couldn't find any reason in it, and I wanted so badly to put him in his place. He couldn't just kill people whenever he felt like it. I stormed away, grabbing my purse from my office and returning to my apartment. Neither Ivy nor Selena attempted to talk to me, as they could sense my anger. The whole day had been infuriating. Jeremiah had faked his death to protect me when I didn't want protection. He also had re-emerged into my life, interfering with my career by killing a man while under my treatment. They would say I wasn't careful enough with him, that I pushed too hard. And maybe I had, but I had no choice. I knew what I wanted to get out of him, and just how to get it. I had been irresponsible, letting my personal life interfere with my profession. I pissed him off, and he reacted. This was the typical behavior of a psychopath, a pattern used to manipulate someone to do something that they want. But what did he want from me exactly? I forced myself to sleep my emotions away, but as I closed my eyes the images of blood stained walls played behind my eyelids.

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