How long had it been since they'd locked you away in this cold, dark, hell? Days? Weeks? Months? It certainly could not have been years, but then again who knew? Your entire time spent in Arkham felt like a blur, you moving slow as everything around you raced by. All you remembered was sleeping, puking, and shots. The screams of the other inmates told you that you weren't one of the worst off. However, as each second that ticked by on the clock in your head, and as you blankly and silently watched all the little doctors and nurses run around like panicked ants, ideas started brewing in your mind. With each maniac that screamed, cried, laughed, and spit in your face before being hauled away for his or her pills, your patience for this place grew more and more fragile. And so it was one fateful night of unrest that you started building a little story in your head…
A wonderful story, about a little scarlet witch and a world she would make her own.