It's dark. God, my head feels like its spinning. Ugh, what's that smell? Owww...my shoulder...Ugh, where am I? I can't see anything...
Thoughts ran through her head. She couldn't comprehend where exactly she was or...why she was there, or how she got there.
Am I dead?
She thought this over and over.
I can't be dead. I still feel pain. I'm obviously breathing and have coherent thoughts. I am, by reason, still alive. But why am I here? In this utter blackness?
She kept thinking, trying to remember what she could. But the pain in her left shoulder was almost unbearable. She could feel the floor beneath her was cold, almost like cement. She began groping around carefully, hoping that whatever was around her might give her some clues as to where she was.
She felt the floor as far ahead of her as she could. All she could feel for at least three feet was cement. Then her hand brushed up against something that felt like a metal rod, obviously rusted by the feel. She felt up the rod, and realized there was a metal barricade in front of her. Almost like a cage. Groping around more, she felt it turn into a corner where she felt the hinges to this "cage". She felt for a lock. No lock...it was welded shut.
She suddenly began to panic. She was welded into a cage in...God knows where. She desperately groped, her breath picking up.
"Arrgh...my shoulder...what did I do?" she said aloud, finally. Feeling the her wounded side, she felt blood pooling in the socket. She lifted her injured arm over her other shoulder, keeping it above her heart. Self-diagnosis: Torn shoulder muscle...?
She had to calm down, she wasn't fully aware of her surroundings yet. She felt further along the bars, reaching a brick wall. She knelt down feeling what seemed may be rags of some sort; a blanket perhaps? Suddenly she felt something underneath the rags, something cold and fleshy.
The smell from earlier got stronger. She felt more and realized this thing had hair! She leaped back, letting out a terrified and disgusted shriek. It had to be a dead human body. She was in a cage with a dead body. How in the world did she end up in this thing? She was utterly horrified and trembling in a corner near where the brick wall and bars met. She realized that tears were streaming down her cheeks, and suddenly she was very tired.
She didn't know exactly how, but she had fallen asleep. Maybe a few minutes, maybe hours, but she was still in pain and terrified.
What did I do to get in this place? What...did...I...?
Suddenly, she remembered. The last thing she could recall was being at her work. She was a fresh new face at Arkham Asylum as a clinical psychiatrist, newly graduated from med school. It was the most renowned facility in all of Gotham, housing the most criminally insane from the public they threatened to infect. The patients were not classified by name, only by their given numbers. The list of mental illnesses seemed overwhelming on her client list. But one in particular intrigued her.
Patient #4479.
Sex: Male
Mental Diagnosis: Psychopathy (severe), Antisocial Personality Disorder (severe), Diogenes Syndrome (severe)
Age: (by medical examination) 29-30
Racial Classification: Caucasian
Notes: Patient seems to exhibit no remorse or moral emotion due to the crimes he has committed. Patient laughs uncontrollably at the misfortune of others. Patient is considered to be dangerous, unpredictable and deceitful. Any direct physical treatment given to the patient must be executed with high/extreme caution. Patient classification could safely be described as evil.
As she read this, her eyes fixed on the word "evil". Who was this patient? What did he do? She couldn't help but be curious.
She walked into her office, which had just been freshly painted on the outside window with her name. Dr. Harlene Quinzel. She was arranging her desk when suddenly the fire alarm began to sound. She quickly hopped up from her chair and looked outside her door. She could see smoke down the main hallway. She turned to go the other way and opened the emergency door. All she could remember was something of brute force hitting her right on the back of her head, and then...nothing.
Now she was here; trapped. She was scared and being alone in darkness seemed to make things even worse. She knew that the dead body near her had probably been there a while. The smell was terrible, even though after a while she got used to it. But the darkness was so mysterious and quiet she wondered what else may be lying around her. What other things were in this place with her.
The cage was cold, and the mixed smells of rotting flesh and mold were terrible. She curled up, slipping her arms into her blouse to keep them warm. She was still wearing her pencil skirt, which she tried to slip further over her goose-bumped legs. She couldn't find her shoes, so her feet and toes seemed the coldest. She sat in her corner, shivering. She wondered when all this would change.
Will I die here? Is this meant to be my untimely grave? I wish I could at least see some light before I died...
She bit her lips, which were cold and chapped. Her stomach began to growl deeply. She was very hungry. Even bad enough, she had skipped breakfast the morning she went to her new job because she was so excited, and now, she was suffering and very hungry. Even worse, she was thirsty.
The few moments she would fall asleep were filled with dreams of ice water, in a clear glass, dripping from condensation, looking so beautiful and quenching. She would reach and take a drink and feel...nothing. Only wake to darkness of her surroundings.
She was lying on the floor of her cage, when suddenly she heard something. She quickly pulled herself up. It sounded like footsteps. She stayed quiet, trying to keep her breathing short.
The footsteps got louder and grew closer. She debated on whether she should call out for help or stay quiet. Was this a hero come to rescue her? Or the one who put her in here? She wasn't sure, so she listened intently. The footsteps were finally right outside her cage, and she heard the rustling of clothing. Then, the sound of a full plastic bottle hit the cement floor inside her cage, near where she sat. She jumped at the sound, not knowing how to react. It was silent for a few moments, and after a while, she heard a wheeze-like snicker and footsteps walking away from her area.
She was confused, but she wondered what that sound was? She groped the cement, finding a plastic water bottle. She brought it to her face, removing the lid, sniffing the contents.
A bottle of...water?
She took a small sip, tasting the refreshing water inside. She quickly began to down the bottle. She drank almost all of it, until she realized she might want to conserve it in case the stranger didn't come back with another one for a long time. Setting the bottle down, she curled up back into her ball, and tried to sleep.
She didn't know how much time had passed. She had no idea of the date or time. Only that she was still in existence in this dark place. The smell had gotten worse, and Harlene barely ventured beyond her corner. The stranger had returned a few times, leaving her new items each time: A blanket, a bottle of water, and even 3 pieces of bread. She had survived in this place for what seemed like forever. She felt like a blind caged animal, having someone visit her and give her sustenance. She desperately wanted to get away from the dark. To shower. Oh, to shower! The stench of the body seemed to marinate her clothes, and her blonde hair was greasy feeling.
As if something had heard her silent pleading, suddenly she was blinded by a bright light being snapped on out of nowhere. She was startled and shielded her eyes, still huddled in the corner. She tried to focus but such brightness after so much dark made her eyes sensitive.
"Let there be light..." said a strange voice. Harlene turned her head to the sound.
"Whose there?" she replied, still trying to focus her sight.
"Too bright? Oh, I'm sorry." said the voice. The light began to dim, and she could see a hand on the large lamp that was pointed right into her cage.
"Is that better?" the voice asked. Harlene rubbed her eyes, trying to figure out who was talking to her...
To be continued...
