A/N So I'm back. I re-wrote the story, Added a title, I didn't get a beta, mainly because... well, just cause. Please, please tell me what you think of this wonderfully re-written story just for you! :D

Oh! BTW, this used to be Insert Title Here. So, Yeah.

Chapter 1

The silence was deafening. I didn't say anything, he didn't say anything. I never said anything. He sighed. Then the silence was back again.

"I never knew what happened to my father." I all but whispered, my head down. My dark brown hair covering my face. I could feel his eyes on me. Those piercing blue eyes. I held my jean-clad legs against my chest. I tilted my head slightly towards him. I could see him through my veil of hair. Dr. Jonathon Crane, my psychiatrist. Alfred had sent me to him about 8 months ago. This was the first time I was telling him anything. I hardly ever talked. Alfred Pennyworth was my adoptive father. He was old, British, and the kindest guy you would ever meet. He did have his rules though.

"Tell me about him." He said his face betraying no emotion.

I shook my head. It was still painful to talk about. Dr. Crane nodded, and stood up to leave. I followed him with my eyes on his way out. Just before he got to the door, I began to speak.

"He was tall, about 6'2"." Dr. Crane froze, then turned around to look at me, surprise evident for a second, then it was gone. "He had brown hair like mine; I got my eyes from my mother. His eyes were brown. I got my skin tone from him." I looked down at my olive-toned arms. He nodded, then sat down, gesturing for me to continue. I laid my cheek down on my knees, caught up in the memories.

"My father was a fun loving man. He was always happy. Always. I have no bad memories of my father. Everything I had known him as, was happy, optimistic, there was not a bad bone in his body." I stopped. I felt the pricking between my eyes. I knew I was close to tears. I turned my head down again. I didn't want to look into Crane's stone cold eyes.

"What about your mother?" He said, his voice impassive.

"My mother was a drunk. She skipped town the day after I was born. She didn't care about me." I said, bitterness seeping into my tone. I clenched my jaw. I looked up at him again. His face showed no emotion, it rarely did. "My father had always taken care of me. He took me to work as a baby, and a toddler. When I was old enough to go to school, he put me in the best school he could find. I was always Daddy's little girl." I smiled a small smile at the thought.

"What happened to your father?" He asked, his voice showing no emotion as well.

"He disappeared on my 15th birthday. It was a Friday." I clammed up at that. I could feel the tears going down my cheeks. Dr. Crane gestured for me to continue, I shook my head. I couldn't.

He nodded, then stood up and left. An orderly walked in with my coat. A young blonde woman, looked about 23, with bright blue eyes and a contagious smile. I gave her a small smile.

"Come on dear," She said in a sugar sweet voice, "Your father's waiting for you." I nodded then stood up. She lead me to the waiting area where Alfred was waiting patiently for me. He lead me to the car. The drive uptown was silent.

"As I woke the morning of my birthday, I was considerably gloomier than usual, as if my body knew this was the last day I would see my father. I went through my morning routine almost robotically. I was not entirely conscious of what I was doing." I sighed, then continued.

"When I got home from school, the day he disappeared, he wasn't there. He sometimes wasn't, but he got off work before I got home. To be able to get off early, he was usually at work before I woke up. Whenever he wasn't home, he would always leave a note, telling me where he was, or when he going to be home. But not that day." I shook my head. "I waited, for almost 2 days. He never came home. His company called, wondering why he hadn't shown up for work. I didn't know what to tell them."

"After almost a week, I grabbed whatever cash I could find, and got on a bus. I didn't know where the bus would take me. I didn't care. Without my father, I had nothing. I didn't want to tell the police. They would send me to my mother, if she was even still alive. If she wasn't, I would go to a foster home. I didn't want that. I had only heard bad things about foster homes. Somehow the police found out anyway. 2 days after I left, they found me. I had ended up in Chicago. They took me to Social Services. They couldn't find my mother for months. They put me in foster home after foster home for almost a year. No one wanted to keep me. They always said that I was too anti-social, or too dark, or things to that effect. I was almost 16 by the time they found her, dead, a Jane Doe in a morgue in New York." I stopped, I was close to tears, I didn't want to talk about my father anymore.

"What happened after that?" He said, scribbling something down into his notebook.

"I was put into a couple more foster homes." I continued reluctantly. "Then finally I was put with Jackie, the nicest lady you will ever meet." I smiled a little, "She never thought I was too dark, or too anti-social, she thought I was little shy, but that was it. She never sent me back. She was the only one. I had this routine of wake, eat, school, eat, sleep. I never did anything. I never talked, I never had friends. Nothing. Some of the other foster kids were nice to me, but once we were out of Jackie's sight, that ended quick. Now, don't get me wrong, I like her, I just didn't want to stay." I shook my head, to caught up in my story to notice much of anything else. Dr. Crane was scribbling something about me down in his notebook. "The foster home was just out of town, close enough to get a bus to Gotham. And that's what I did. I skipped school one day and took a bus to Downtown Gotham." I smiled grimly.

"I had little money, just enough for a bus ride and back, not that I was planning on going back. That's the day I met Alfred." My heart warmed a little at that thought. Just then an orderly came in. That same one as the week before. I still have to learn her name.

"I'm sorry for interrupting Dr. Crane, but some of the high risk patients are acting up again." She shrugged apologetically. Dr. Crane nodded then left.

She turned to me, "I'm going to get your coat, I'll be right back." She smiled, and turned to search and ended up walking away. Leaving the door open. I poked my head out, no one was there. My eyebrows knitted together, where was everyone? It was with that thought that I continued down the brightly lit corridor. There were no signs telling you where to go, no maps. Just hall after hall of white tiles and florescent lights. I turned a corner, expecting to see just another hallway. Boy, was I wrong. That's when I came face to face with what Arkham Asylum calls 'high-risk patients'.

I do realize that I haven't said her name, also her psychiatric appointments are at Arkham Asylum, if you haven't guessed. ;)