06 | abnormality

(n) a person, thing, or event that is far from normal

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The night had rolled in over Gotham, bringing with it a threat of a heavy storm. The air was still, heavy and thick clouds blotted out stars. The once blue sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black. The moon was a wraith-silver disc hanging in the lonely sky. Lasers of moonlight were as bright as diamond-flame.

I drifted into my thoughts as I stared at the beautiful sky.

In my personal opinion, it is very awkward to hate a person solely on the basis of their physical appearance or on such things which are uncontrollable, for example, their face, color, height, race or religion etc,.

I have heard of people hating on the Joker because of his looks, his hair colour, his skin tone. That is wrong. Most of the human population judge people based on their looks and that is bad and I refuse to be that way.

My mind was circling all this thoughts round and round as I watched the bright moon shining down upon me.

Ring

I picked up my phone, smiling slightly at the caller ID.

"Hey!" I said, picking up my phone and answered Debby. I rested my hands on the railing of the balcony, admiring the night view, as the cold breeze blew my hair around, chilling my skin.

"Hey!" She said in a cheerful tone. "How's life in Gotham?" She asked.

"Interesting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I confirmed. "What about you? How is life in California?" I asked.

"A dream." She said, sighing. "I met this guy and he is so hot. Hotter than Tom Yankins." She squealed with excitement and I had to move the phone away from my ear or it would have caused some damage to my eardrums.

Tom Yankins was this hot dude in the orphanage that me and Debby grew up in. I mean, he had blonde hair, brown eyes and pink lips and sure every girl present in our orphanage had a crush on him, including me. But, my crush was not really that strong and I never told about my feelings to anyone because the girls would then pound on me like werewolves and shout 'mine' repeatedly, marking their territory.

Its terrifying.

"Good for you." I said.

"Don't tell me you haven't met any guys yet." She said, her voice showing her shockness.

"Um..." I wracked my brain to think of any guy.

My boss?

But, he is probably 30 years old or something.

Who else?

... Joker ...

I don't find him hot. I just find him interesting.

Nope. That does not count. He is my patient.

"No actually. No one." I confirmed and she gave out a wide gasp.

"Aww.." She cooed. "Poor you." She added.

I laughed.

"Its okay." I said, still laughing. "Got any job?" I asked.

"Oh. I did." She said. "I got a job at this local cafe in the beach. Its really good. There are always people there." She said and continued to talk about her job life and I felt myself drifting away to my thoughts.

After she rambled on more about how sweet the guy she met was, I decided to end the call and go to bed.

I could feel the drowsiness in me and closed my eyes for a second, feeling the ache. I opened them and looked at my unmade, messy bed. My eyes automatically went to the pillow and I smiled, expecting a present to be there. I walked towards it and digged my hands in them, just like I thought, I could feel the rough paper of the envelope brushing my hands and I pulled it out, eager to read what was inside.

Harleen,

       Thanks for the ring. I am wearing it right now, thinking of you in my bed, or probably dreaming of you in my head. By the way, I have got you something pink to match the colour of your lips. Look inside your cabinet.

Your favorite patient,
Mr. J

I melted.

He sure does know how to charm girls. I smiled and walked towards the cabinet, inside, there was a glass vase and there was a single pink rose in it.

There was a card hanging and I looked closely into it.

Pink rose = admiration
I admire you, Harleen.

I could feel my cheeks blushing brightly as I read it. He is such a gentleman for a serial-killer. How can any girl not fall for him?

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"Remove his jacket please." I ordered the guards and they politely did, but I could still see the hesitation in their actions.

"Dr. Quinzel, someone is calling you." One of the guards said and I quickly stood up from my seat, annoyed a little by the fact that they had to call me during my session with him.

Nevertheless, I opened the glass door to found myself face to face with Mr. Fox. He smirked down at me and I kept my face hard, not letting my emotions leak out.

"Mm." He said. "Its a surprise you are still continuing to go with him even after three sessions." He said.

"Why? Is there a problem?" I asked.

"Is he not bothering you?" He asked.

"No." I said. "Infact, he is warming up to me already." I said. "I am sure I can gather information from him." I said confidently.

"In that case," He paused. "I want you to gather something from him during this week and I will be expecting the file in my office at the end of this week." He said, his voice stern.

My eyes widened.

"What?" I asked.

"Are you telling me you can't do that?" He asked and I remained silent. "He is a criminal Dr. Quinzel, and the Prince of Crime himself, you said yourself that he is warming up to you and you have to use that, how long are you going to wait? It has been three sessions already. Others have already gathered piles of information from their fellow patients. There is none from you. Do this if you want to prove yourself to me." He said, his voice went deep in the last part and with that he walked away, leaving me astounded.

This week?

What am I going to do?

But, I have to gather something.

I have to prove this bastard wrong and I am not backing down no matter what.

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