She stared within the squared window, small bitten finger nails caressing the thick glass. On the opposite end laid an induced coma red-headed patient, the scaring along his entire face still healing. "Harleen?" A deep, sophisticated voice called out the young blonde's name. "Dr. Strange," she acknowledge, never turning away. "What are you doing here child?" The bald headed doctor questioned, pushing up the rim of his glasses along his nose as he observed the teen of thirteen. She questioned in return, her Brooklyn accent unhidden, "Do ya think he did it? Did he really cut his own face off?" The doctor calmly clasped his hands behind the white lab coat outlining his frame, "What do you think?" The blonde's face contoured between conclusion and confusion, "How could anyone do that to themselves?" In return the doctor replied, "Sometimes certain types of pain can be ... mistaken.. for pleasure." She wasn't convinced, "If he liked pain, why only his face? I don't see any other marks. If it brought him pleasure, wouldn't he mark himself more? Why is he here?" The doctor raised a brow, "Self infliction would not be a good enough reason for psychological therapy?" The teen defended once more, "He did not, do that to himself!" She then calmed and suddenly her facial expression soften into sadness and pity, "I heard him... before.. before his face was like that... when he was first here. He's not like the other patients. He's always smiling," and a smile formed on her face as well, "... always laughin' ... He's always happy..." The child's sentiment was very unusual and the doctor briefly looked up to instruct one of the guards for assistance with just a secretive nod of his head. Still curious to explore the teen's mind, he continued to feed her, "He killed his parents." Harleen analyzed, "Then why is he here at Arkham? Shouldn't he be in prison?" The doctor slightly elaborated, "He enjoyed.. killing his parents." There was a sudden change of emotion in Harleen that the doctor detected.
She was quiet at first and it seem as if she was struggling between idolizing and disappointment, but as the young blonde pressed both her small palms along the glass, looking deeper into the limited window, on her tippy toes, he did not expect her next words. "What did they do to him?" she whispered. "I beg your pardon?" the doctor asked. "He enjoyed it. What did his parents do to him for him to reach that point that he was happy to kill them? They must've done something to him and no one saw or cared to help him?" Slowly the doctor approached the teen girl, "You are justifying his actions? Interesting. As a professional, I am inclined to educate to you, that there are rules and laws we must abide. They keep order. Put us in check; Protect us. Without them, there would only be chaos and everyone will go off killing their parents." Harleen returned her attention back onto the patient, from the other side of the door and muttered against the glass, "... where were they when he needed them? I listened to some of the stories he told mama." The doctor stood side by side with Harleen, facing the cell, "that is to assume he's even telling the truth." The doctor turned towards her and crouched low enough so he was at eye level with her, then spoke gently, "Lets say what he did was justice. But what about when he escaped Arkham? He killed a lot of innocent people, because... he wanted to." The teen still kept her focus at the window. "Nobody just "wants" to do something like that. They get pushed and pressured.... manipulated... The same laws that are suppose'ta protect are the same that made him into this "monstah" everyone's callin' him. Now they're tryna make it right?" She turned to the doctor. With tears threatening to roll down from her eyes, she whimpered, "they did this ta him and now they're punishin' him? When are they gonna pay huh doctor? When are they gonna pay?"
Astonished he should've been, trouble-minded even, by this young girl's mind, but instead it was as if he heard this before. He just smiled at the child through his spectacles and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, "Ah, Harleen," he sighed, "The construct of your psyche is as advanced as some of our best doctors." He then whispered, "I will always acclaim your emotional intelligence, especially for someone so young." The child's eyes widen as she suddenly recognized what was about to happen. A guard closed in on her from behind and she shouted, "No! Nononono please No!" The doctor slowly stood back up with a frown, "You know you're mother doesn't like you lurking these corridors or listening in on her sessions. It is not healthy for you." Harleen tried to struggle out the arms of the guard that was carrying her into another room, "No please! I promise! I promise I won't say anything anymore! Hugo please!!" The door closed behind her. It was only a matter of minutes before the lights flickered as electrical current was being pushed to its limits and filling the halls with the muffled wails of a child. "They're not ready for you Miss Quinzel. Not just yet." [End]
