Her Broken MInd

He drove me insane.
His charisma and moniker of the clown prince of crime drew me in like a moth to the flames.
Through months of interviews he drew me in. Breaking my mind into pieces he could manipulate like the pieces on a chess board.
Sometimes I hate this life his out bursts and near fatal jokes drive me deeper into my insanity. Drive me down deeper into the darkness of his creation. I was once respected as a psychologist. Publishing papers and journals about the psyche of the criminal mind.
Now books are written about me. His touch lights me on fire and his fist breaks me and remakes me every time. His manipulation has thrown me up one end of the spectrum and down the other. Emotions lost in the haze of humiliation and fear. Mixed with love and adoration. He keeps me hooked with moments of tenderness that remind me he his only a man.
Sometimes I hate this life. The bat always trying to tear us apart. Always fighting him like he is his equal. Like he knows what really goes on in that brilliant mind. The violence I enjoy. Pushing people around is a great feeling and never more so than when he praises me with a laugh.
His psychosis caused by so many things and yet nothing can reach the deeper sanity he holds inside. He puts this façade on for the world to see, but the only one who sees him is me. I see who he is I see why he does the things he does.
Inside this shattered mind of mine I see. I hold myself together with his laugh. I take his fist only to return it later. We kill each other every day and revive one another with a kind word. Our lives are wild inconsistent and always different. Inside this mind, this broken, shattered, and beaten mind he exists just for me.
My name is or rather used to be Dr. Harleen Quinzel, and this is my mind. Shattered and broken re-forged in the heat of his insanity. I love him as only one who understands him can. Battered and broken. He kills because it’s the only way he can feel. His insanity has become my own and what a blissful existence it is.