After abandoning the car, J and I walk through a small path in the woods that leads to a clearing with various paths splintering off in all directions. I struggle to keep hold of both my shoes and dress, terrified of what would happen if I dropped either one in the mud. It occurs to me that I probably (definitely) look like crap, and am in desperate need of a shower if I am to convincingly sneak onto a yacht party. I look up and see that Joker has walked ahead while I was daydreaming, and I walk quickly in order to catch up to him, narrowly avoiding the gnarled tree roots twisting at my feet. As odd as it may sound, the last thing I want is to be separated from J. besides, I've come this far and I'm not about to give up my chances of seeing Harley again; even if it means becoming an accomplice to the Joker. A thought I've never had before enters my mind and it honestly scares me to death; I have no idea what's going to happen on this yacht. I know J wants me to distract Bruce Wayne with my "pretty face" or whatever, but he never told me what he is doing to do (besides steal some paintings here and there).

We continue on the second to last trail on the left for a good ten minutes, the whole humid trip spent wondering why we aren't just driving, before reaching another clearing, this time a house in it. The structure, more of a shack to be honest, has virtually no windows and is made of dark wood. It's a fine space – but I'm confused as to why we are here. With a quick glance back to make sure I'm still following him, J proceeds into the cabin and, as always, I follow him. As someone who is not very tall – being somewhere around 5'3" – I rarely struggle with fitting into spaces, but the doorframe of this cabin is so low that I have to literally bend over to get underneath it without slamming my head. I'm sure J would get a kick out of that. The interior of the cabin matches its outside; run down, small, dark, and unwelcoming. From what I can tell by first glance, the cabin is only a single, open room with a bathroom in the back. J disappears into the bathroom. In the left corner, there are some cabinets mounted to the wall above a kitchen counter. On top of the counter, there's an unopened pack of water bottles. I silently thank God because I am literally parched. A sink next to a dishwasher and a stovetop complete the area, the space lacking a refrigerator. J reappears and takes my dress and shoes from my hands, replacing them with a towel and shampoo.

"There's a shower in the back and a makeup bag and brush on the counter. We leave at dusk, so don't take too long," he says with surprising bluntness. I expected something else from him. Anger, maybe? He seems inexplicably polite. I give him a single nod and a "Thanks," understanding his instructions and not in the mood to talk, before heading back to the bathroom. When I close the door, I drop the towel and shampoo on the floor and sink to the ground. I don't cry, I'm just exhausted and dehydrated and so, so, so tired of being here. I miss Harley, and still haven't confronted J about what will happen when we get her back. I haven't been alone in days. The deadline for rent has probably passed and will have to deal with the landlord when I get home. If I ever get home. J keeps surprising me. I'm surprised that he keeps surprising me, as I went into this "adventure" on my toes. I don't know him very well personally, but from what Harley told me, I know that he's unpredictable. Looking around, I notice that the bathroom is very nice – much nicer than you'd expect an abandoned cabin in the woods bathroom to be. It has a certain rustic charm that doesn't fit my particular situation. I can easily imagine myself living here forgetting my doctor dreams (which are pretty much crushed at this point) and having a nice dog. Maybe a German Sheppard? Either way, the Joker wouldn't be here with me.

This thought propels me off the ground, suddenly aware that I've been sitting on the ground for too long and my butt is starting to become numb. I quickly strip and turn the faucet handle, giving the water a moment to heat up before jumping in. The shower has limited hot water, so I quickly scrub my hair with the shampoo I was given and attempt to rid my body of the dirt and sweat that has accumulated over the past several days. The water pooling around the drain goes from clear to sudsy to dirty to clean again, just like me. Just as I'm finishing up, I feel the water begin to lose it's appeal, growing colder by the second. I slam the handle down, stopping the water flow, and hop out of the shower. I wrap the towel around my body and shake out my hair, small water droplet splattering the mirror and wall. Running a hand over the fogged mirror, I have a moment to look at myself. I'm much cleaner than I was before, and the bags under my eyes have slightly reduced since this morning. Placing my hands on either side of the sink bowl, I press myself into the cool marble surface.

I've always used the expression "stuck between a rock and a hard place" sparingly, and usually reserve it for when I'm discussing tough patients in the asylum. This, however, is possibly the most extreme rock and hard place I've ever been in. if I have the opportunity to talk to Bruce Wayne – Batman himself – do I tell him my situation? Or do I say quiet and do what Joker tells me to, and maybe getting the chance to see Harley again. I impatiently tap my fingers on the countertop, frustrated with my own inability to make a decision. A sharp rap on the door pulls me out of my thoughts, the gruff voice informing me that I need to get ready. I give myself one more look in the mirror, nodding once in determination and preparation for the upcoming hours. Clutching the towel close to me I turn and open the door, cool air rushing in and meeting with the humidity of the bathroom. J is nowhere to be found, and the guard leads me to a bedroom where my shoes and dress are laid out, as well as a plethora of makeup and hair products on the vanity. The guard nods towards the clock mounted on the wall, informing me that I have until 6 to get ready. I thank him, although I'm unsure why I do, and I'm left alone to my thoughts once again.