Warning: This is a revamp so please remember to read through all of the past chapters, all the major important events are the same but some more minor events are different along with more character development and details have been changed so at least skim them.
For the last four years I've been rotting in Arkham without much hope of ever escaping it's clutches. It really isn't as bad as many people say. Sure it houses some of the most dangerous people on the continent and what if inmates disappear from time to time. The place is old and filled with secret dangers. Sadly enough, it has become more of a home for me than with any of the foster families I lived with.
When I first came here that's all the doctors would talk about, my foster families. They constantly lectured me about them. They seemed almost desperate to hear that I had been brutally abused by them and that's why I'm the way I am. I mean sure not all of them were nice one or two were bad and seemed only in it for the easy money and someone to smack around but I got out of there quick. I'm actually quite lucky. Most of the families I'd been with were caring people who wanted to help me in any way they could.
However they caught on relatively soon. There isn't anything that can really fix whatever I have. I've never really bothered to hide who I am. They would get discouraged when they received disturbing reports from school and neighbors and then realized they were in way over their heads before passing me on to someone else. It seemed like a never ending cycle from family to family trying to 'help' me. I had no interest in becoming anyone's pet project.
The thought disgusted me; the image of them bragging to their friends about how they saved a poor damaged girl and turned her into a respectable and obeying child filled me with revulsion. Its not like I hated them for it I just knew that I was no more than a pawn in their game just like everyone else. They were kind enough to me but to be honest I almost preferred the assholes who would beat me when they got hammered. At least I knew what they wanted.
They didn't hide behind forced smiles and kind gestures they made sure I knew what I was to them, unlike the others. I never intentionally pushed them away I would just be myself like all the after school specials and Disney movies would tell you and for it I was discarded because no one wants me. They want their perfect image of me. For the first few families I had the hope that they would accept me and that I would be loved for who I was. I stomped out those hopes after the third rejection.
Its hard for me to understand why, whenever someone spends to much time with me I can see the realization dawn on there face. That there is something not quite right about me. I sensor everything I say but they always seem to catch on, I'm not sure how. There are times when I deeply miss being back in a real bed with a proper room and good food but then I remember that here no one really cares about niceties. They let you know what they want from you almost as soon as they look at you.
Well except for the psychologists of course. Its there job to try and lull you into telling them all of your deepest secrets so they can write a paper or book about it and become famous leaving you trapped in your cell with the whole world knowing your story. If there is one thing I refuse to give up its my story, its the downfall of so many. I hold it close not allowing anyone a peek into my thoughts and past. They still continue to try but they have lost the fervor that they once had. I give them only what they already know.
People already grasp to much from my records. The murder of my mother, no father, being placed into foster care with a good family that dropped me after three years . From there it was house to house without anything stable to keep me grounded and finally the incident that got me locked up in this place. It happened during the school year. School is both a blessing and a curse. I enjoy it for the familiarity of the classroom but hate the other students. They always catch on the quickest and once they do they never let it go and they make sure it follows you.
It didn't take long till I got some nicknames and then rumors spread like wildfire about my habits. I've grown to block out their insults and have mastered the art of ignoring people. However there is always one or two that always find a way to get under my skin and have me squeezing my bag or books in anger. There were two girls who were high on the social totem pole and they took great pleasure of reminding me of my standing in the social order. Their taunts seemed to constantly trail behind me filling me with rage.
So it didn't take long before I focused my needs onto them. Mostly I had gotten into the habit of stealing stuff, usually small things that would go unnoticed. There is nothing like the thrill of being inside of someones home while they rest unaware of your invasive presence touching and corrupting their safe haven. It wasn't hard to get into either of their houses, especially when the one girl's dog went missing. I began to take little things from their living rooms in the dead of night like a pen or a tiny figurine before I worked up the courage to go upstairs.
The first time I get to the second floor is exhilarating. I spend much of the first few times wondering what was upstairs, what secrets they hide in their rooms. So when I finally do go upstairs I spend almost five minutes just enjoying the notion that they are completely unaware of my presence. Then I make my way into the bedrooms and here is where things get really dangerous and tricky cause if anyone wakes up the game is over and there is no chance of coming back but it also has the greatest reward.
To be in someones sanctuary with them unconscious as you learn their secrets is a marvelous feeling that is difficult to describe. But in my joy of learning who these girls are I grew careless. I had worked up the nerve and stolen the diary of one of the girls a week ago and was searching the other girls house for any kind of private object she would miss. I was searching through her closet silently when I moved the hangers that proceeded to release a wave of shoe boxes that fell on my head surprising me and waking her.
She screamed when she saw me having no idea who I was exactly since I was wearing dark cloths that were little to big and hid my shape well. Hearing the alarm she was raising I moved without thinking. I tossed the nearest object at her before sprinting out her door. Her father had awoken and stood in the hallway as I ran by. I could hear his yell of anger and pounding feet behind me. Fueled by fear I sprinted across the quiet suburban neighborhood as his yells for me to stop began to awaken the slumbering families.
Thankfully I lost him as I took a short cut through some narrow streets that I had learned when I lived in another home near there. But my relief was only temporary as I learned at school the next day that she was in the hospital. I had thrown a vase that smashed into her face cutting up her once smooth spray tanned skin. The police were here and interviewing the students about her. I knew they would catch onto me since everyone knew that I was strange. I attempted to run away but my foster parents called the cops when they saw I was missing in the morning. They caught me heading towards the narrows. I was hoping to lose them in the close and dangerous streets of my childhood.
They found the things I had stolen from their homes in a small chest I kept under my bed. It held all of my secret prizes. My foster family got a decent lawyer who had me plea for insanity. So I was sent to Arkham at the age of fifteen to stay until I was of age where I would receive another trial to see if I was fit to reenter society or continue my sentence in Arkham Asylum.
Which is why at the age of nineteen I find myself being carted from the mansion back to my cell in the penitentiary with a lone guard to watch me. He was more for my protection than anything else. Even though the staff consider me a cooperative patient I still wear chains wherever I go like everyone else. I've never seen a point in starting anything with any of the guards, its too much trouble.
I have however been in a few skirmishes with other inmates but that was mostly when I first came here and they tried to room me with someone else. After a day or two my roommate would demand to be moved since I wouldn't sleep and watch them at all times. Besides that and the time someone tried to get grabby with me I haven't stirred up much trouble since I got here four years ago.
The trip between the east and west wings of Arkham is a relatively dull one with nothing but the snipers in their towers to keep an eye on you. The sharp cold breeze was the wailing theme of Arkham. No one saw it coming. It was just as we crossed the threshold into the west side of Arkham when the distant sound of screams and gunfire rolled through the air. My guard stopped as the gates to the west wing slid open to welcome a wave of the Blackgate inmates as they began attacking anyone near by.
My guard yelled for me to stay put which I of course ignored and ran for my life to the only place not currently swarming with crazed men, the medical facility. The chains made running difficult but I didn't allow them to stop me as I burst through the doors and down the hall with the secretary's frightened yelp behind me. As I entered the sanitarium doctors and nurses stopped to look at me. They called out that I wasn't suppose to be here and a guard started to approach me until the screams of the secretary and gunfire could be heard in the next room.
Heading towards the stairs hoping to find somewhere to hide I saw a vent and began ripping out the rusted screws. A guard grabbed my shoulder and tried to pull me away but I shook him off as the grate gave way and I crawled into a spacious air duct system. Just in time too, I could hear the doors slam against the walls at the prisoners entrance. I could hear the doctors scream as a few shots went off and I heard the body of the guard who was trying to pull me away fall. A pool of blood began to form staining the polished white linoleum.
Footsteps approached and I held my breath as I heard the body being dragged away. The deep voices of the escaped convicts reached my ears along with the occasional sob from one of the doctors. Having nowhere to run I sat in the corner hoping they would leave or that something would distract them so I could slip by. I waited with my heartbeat in my ears. Once the adrenaline wore off I began to wonder how I was going to make it through the night alive.