We're All a Little Depraved

Chapter 2 - initial meeting

"So why do you call yourself that?" Dr Drew asked.
"What?"
"Avarice. Why do you call yourself Avarice?"

Helena grimaced. She didn't have a dying urge to discuss her trauma, but she doubted Dr Drew would take 'no reason' for an answer.

"Well, do you know what avarice is?" She said, a sarcastic smile curling the corners of her lips.

"Avarice is the biblical name for the sin of greed." Dr Drew recited. "Do you think you're greedy?"
"Well, I tried to steal thousands of dollars yesterday, so I'm sure I look that way."

Now it was Dr Drew's turn to smile.

"Ah, but you were only trying to take care of your mother and sister, weren't you?"
"That ain't gonna fly if the bank takes me to court Doc. Why're you defending me?" Helena narrowed her eyes and folded her scrawny arms across her chest.
"Helena, do you understand that poverty is a form of trauma?" The doctor asked carefully. "Trauma can impact your brains ability to function properly."

Helenas scowl melted into an expression of surprise.

"Insanity plea?" The words rushed from her mouth before she could stop them.

Dr Drew nodded. "It will keep you out of
prison, which is what your mother wants."

Helenas eyes met the floor as her scowl returned. "I find that hard to believe."

"You need help, Helena." Dr Drew ran a hand through his pitch colored hair. "We will start you on a three month program. Daily monitoring and weekly group therapy. You will also meet with a counselor to discuss your goals. We want you to be able to go back to college. You can't drop out. No establishment in Gotham will hire you."

Helena wouldn't meet his eyes. Her fingers dug into the soft flesh of her arm.

"I fucking hate this," she rasped. Tears pricked the corners of her tired eyes.

"I understand you're frustrated. We want to help you—"

Helena rose from her chair quickly, the legs screeching in protest.

"I don't need help! I need money. I need to not live in a shithole! I need to not get hassled in the Street because I live in the gutter of Gotham, I—-" Helenas voice rose sharply and then broke into a sob and she sank back into the chair.

"There will be plenty of time to share what you need in therapy. For now, the guards will escort you to your room." Dr Drew said quietly.

The two muscular men that had been standing by the door grabbed Helena by the wrists, escorting her into the hall. She glared back at the doctor as she was was forcibly walked down the hall.

-

As they came upon the women's ward, Helena wore a look of horror. The rooms, as Dr Drew had called them, were tiny cells with glass walls. They bore more resemblance to prison cells than anything else. The taller of the two guards unlocked one such cell and the other prodded her back to force her in. As the door locked behind her, she allowed herself a horrified gasp. The cell had a plain cot on one side and a toilet on the other. In the middle, two chairs resembling the ones in Dr Drew's office sat. Helena sucked in a breath and hunkered down onto the bed.

This was a nightmare wasn't it? This could not be real. Helena laid on her side and tucked her legs into her chest. A few hot tears escaped her eyes as she hiccuped. How did these quacks think they could help her. She imagined her mother taking her sister home to their shitty apartment. She imagined her mother going to fetch her sister a bottle, and finding no formula in the jar. Her mother would go rifling through her purse, and find only a few crumpled dollars. Her sister would have to go hungry, again.

As the train of thought ran off the rails, Helena sat up, and tried to shake the thought from her mind. But her mind had gone off the deep end. How expensive was this program? How much was she costing her family for her mistake?

Helena froze. But it wasn't a mistake. She meant to steal that money. If only the dark knight of Gotham could mind his business. How could he be so soulless? To take from those who already had so little? The more she thought, the angrier Helena became. Wasn't he meant to help? How could he do this? They had nothing!

Helena got out of her cot and began to pace, the tears streaming from eyes as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

He was putting their family in harms way! If her mother could not afford her program, they would lose their house. Why couldn't the vigilante just let her be?

A tapping came from one of her cell walls, breaking her from her thoughts. It was the girl from earlier...Harley? She was sitting cross legged in front of the wall that separated their cells, one red stilleto nail tapping impatiently. Helena went to the wall where she sat, and mirrored Harley, so that she faced her.

"You ok, pumpkin?" Harley had a strong Boston accent.

Helena didn't know what to say. Harley didn't sound malicious at all. She had the same soft lilt to her voice that you would expect from an older sister.

"No," Helena mumbled, surprising herself. "I guess," the words kept tumbling out without her permission. "It just— it fucking sucks cause I just wanted to help my family and now everything's worse." She admitted. She didn't meet Harley's kind stare.

"It'll be ok, sugar. Things gotta get worse before they get better." Harley placed her palm flat against the glass, and rested her forehead there as well. Her blue eyes searched Helenas face. Helena felt more hot tears pulse out of her eyes as she once again mirrored Harley, finally meeting her gaze.

"You got this baby. I can see it in you, you're a fighter."