Hey guys. I am so incredibly sorry that I have not been on here in awhile.

School, work, personal health, etc., all have a hand in my long absence from here.

Hopefully with this new fanfiction I can get back on track.

Enjoy!


The lack of sleep was really beginning to grate on her nerves. The hallucinations were back and were in full swing, lack of sleep withstanding, so her nerves were already shot. The three hours of sleep Isabella was able to muster up per night was not enough to keep the images at bay, and it was time to figure out a way to get the sleep she needed. Pills were not an option for her. Well, technically, they were an option but she did not want to have to resort to those nasty little things. The pills they gave out here in Arkham were strange, and seemed to make the patients more volatile. There was one fact, though, that she was most definitely sure of:

At twenty three years old, Isabella was extremely tired of life.

If only her mother could have seen her as she stumbled forth throughout the years, hopping from foster home to foster home, until one of her foster parents had begun to whore her out. Her mother, the overzealous Catholic woman that she had been, would have had a heart attack had she known the prostitute that her daughter had become. The first ten years of her life having her mother beat her and tell her that she was going to become a harlot finally made sense. Her mother, in all of her strange overzealousness, had somehow known that this was the life she was going to lead. Then again, if the woman hadn't beaten the crap out of her so hard maybe then the school administrators wouldn't have noticed and then this whole "becoming a whore" thing wouldn't have occurred.

Maybe then she wouldn't be in an asylum where they kept the clinically insane criminals.

Now, Isabella didn't think that she was insane. Sure, she had hallucinations that enabled her mind to transport her into another world and let her escape from reality, but she was not insane. Then again, she had murdered the man her foster father had pimped her out to. Also, murdering her foster father probably hadn't helped her cause either. When the police officers had found her, she had been almost naked and had been covered in blood from the wounds that she had inflicted on that bastard pretend father of hers. The look in her eyes had been described as feral.

At the court hearing that had taken place about six or seven years ago one of the doctors from Arkham had determined that, due to the psychological abuse she had sustained from her mother prior to her being put into the system and due to the abuse she had suffered whilst living with her now deceased foster father, she had been driven to the point of madness that had, in theory, lead her to kill the ones that had chosen to harm her instead of going to the police.

Her attitude regarding the doctor's theory had been, "No shit, Sherlock." Seriously, how else was she going to handle it? The foster father had been a former police officer and had laughed after she had threatened to go to the police. "You can't go to them. I am the police. Anything I say will immediately make you look like a lying whore", he had told her. The slap and the beating that had come after that first threat had been the worst that she could recall. After that was when he started to pimp her out.

Anyway, needless to say, the doctor had recommended that she should be placed in Arkham after she turned eighteen since she was most likely permanently a danger to herself and others.

Once she had turned eighteen though, she could have sworn that her life was merely drifting by.

Each day was the same routine: get up, eat breakfast, take first dose of pills, recreation, meet with psychiatrists, eat lunch, free time in their cells, dinner, second dose of pills, visiting time, and then bed time. The cycle would repeat the next day, and the next, until the days just blended together. If it weren't for the calendar she had hung up in her cell Isabella wouldn't know what month or day it was. Hell, if it weren't for that stupid New Year's party that the Asylum threw for the patients and staff each year she probably wouldn't have even know what year it was.

Letting out a soft sigh, Isabella turned to look out the window of her cell and couldn't help feeling listless. The sun was barely beginning to peak out from the horizon which meant that it was almost five thirty A.M. "The joys of being an insomniac", she whispered to herself as she peered up on her tiptoes on top of her bed, "You always get to stay up to greet the sun every morning."

As the sun began to rose, Isabella couldn't help looking at her reflection in the mirror. The former short dark brown locks from when she had first entered this establishment were gone. In their place after six years of being institutionalized were platinum blonde locks that, when she didn't have them up and out of her face, rested at her mid back. With money that she had earned doing menial chores around the asylum, the young woman had managed to bribe one of the guards into purchasing and bringing back some of the blonde dye.

The change had been an interesting one to say the least.

The color had washed her out and, since she already had pale white skin, she looked like a wannabe vampire that had been living inside for most of her life. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than they used to be with the new coloring from the dye. The lack of sleep didn't help though, and the fact that she didn't eat much probably didn't help either. The food here was positively disgusting, but the cooks probably didn't care since the people that they were serving were crazy ass bastards anyway.

Sighing to herself, Isabella fixed up her hair in the reflection from the window before hopping off her bed. She would have loved to have a mirror in her room but, alas, due to the fact that she had tried to commit suicide and the fact that other patients had tried to commit suicide had prevented the usage of mirrors to be used in this establishment. Some bright SOB had thought that breaking a mirror and using the shards to cut his sorry ass self up in order to escape the birds that liked "pecking" at his skin. She had seen that episode of suicidal intent during the first six months of being here, and that had left a frightening impression on her.

Slicing up one's arm was just not the way to go if she wanted to die.

At this point in her life, though, she was too stubborn to die. There was so much life that she had yet to experience, and she hoped that one day something exciting and new would come whisk her away from this boring day to day bullshit.

Sighing once more, she couldn't help but to look back at the window and marvel at the blue sky outside. It was so clear and blue. The type of blue that came very rarely nowadays considering the air pollution and the light pollution that seemed to take on a mind of its one. It was a beautiful blue. Almost a periwinkle blue. Her jaw dropped, and her lips parted; her mind utterly absorbed by the complete blueness that had taken over the sky. The glaze that usually went over her eyes during a hallucination began to occur, but she didn't fight it.

The sky was such an incredible blue that Isabella barely noticed the hand that had grasped onto her shoulder.

"Miss. Romaneau?"

Jumping with a start, Isabella quickly whirled around and came face to face with her doctor.

"Dr. Crane?"

"How are you this fine morning, Miss. Romaneau?"

Her confused expression was enough to tell him that she had been on the cusps of another hallucination. The furrowed brow and the puzzlement was enough to tell him what he needed to know about how her morning had been going so far. He knew her, though, and knew that her pride would get in the way of telling him the truth.

"I'm doing okay, Doctor. I had a problem sleeping again, but what else is new?" She said matter-of-factly as she shrugged her shoulders. It had merely taken a minute, but she had managed to put herself back together again.

"Well maybe you should head down and get some breakfast. A full stomach might help put you to sleep, and ease your mind, hm?"

The tone of his voice was gentle and kind; the slight interest in his eyes managed to convey a sense of caring. Over the past six years that she had been here, Isabella was still not entirely sure what to make of this man that stood in front of her. The best thing to do, though, was to agree with him. Hell, the best thing to do while in this place was to agree with anyone that was here.

"Yes, Doctor. I think I will do just that."

On that note, Isabella gave him a smile and quickly made her exit from the room. She hoped to God that the food would put her to sleep like the Doctor thought, but she held little hope that it would. Whilst she was meandering to the cafeteria, the Doctor was still standing in her room. The smirk on his face was enough to make anyone squirm.

"Such an interesting woman. Unfortunately, I don't have time to merely focus all my attention on her now that," He paused a bit in his musings as he took out a notebook regarding the details of his next patient, "This new patient of mine is going to be taking up my time. He's such a little anarchist."

The picture of a seemingly handsome man in his thirties stared up at him and he couldn't help marveling over his new potential specimen. The devil may care attitude that the man seemed to possess just in the picture alone made him want to get in a room with him, and just observe him for a couple of hours. The man had murdered countless of civilians due to the mere fact that he was bored, and wanted to cause chaos. A man with no name, and no fingerprints who just happened to piss off the wrong people was being sent here to be placed under his supervision? The challenge was utterly titillating.

The same challenge he had with his little patient, Isabella, as well. That woman refused to let him in and to let him observe how her inner mind worked. The hallucinations were, of course, through the medications he had prescribed her in order to make her lean on him and open up to him. The woman, though, was still too stubborn to open up despite the physical and mental limitations his little pills had on her. The woman was by no means insane, but the fact that she had refused to let him in had astounded him.

That was the only reason why he had recommended her to be placed her at Arkham.

Mere and utter fascination.

Sometimes it truly was a pleasure to wield the title Doctor. Labels and categories appealed to the law enforcement in Gotham, and he loved wielding this status of his.

Suddenly the Doctor's cell phone went off, and he couldn't help feeling a similar feeling of glee that little children felt when they had discovered a new toy. With a flick of the wrist he opened up the phone and pressed send, placing the phone to his ear as he accepted the call. The deep tone of one of his subordinates radiated throughout his ear, and a sense of calm washed over him. A deep smile crinkled his face, and made the glasses on his nose slide down a bit.

The new patient had arrived.

This indeed was going to be an interesting twist to everyone's day-to-day routine.


Oh my goodness!

My first chapter posted in over a year. I feel so proud of myself that I finally got one back on here.

woot!

Anyway, let me know how this chapter was and in merely a constructive way, let me know what is working and what isn't working.

Also, please let me know if you I should post a character profile for Isabella. I know for some people it helps give a clearer picture as to who the OC is.

Alrighty. I am going to go crash. I hope you all have an awesome night.

And please review!